I knew a couple whose roles were similar to “Amy” and “Aaron”; volatile, electrifying, boozy Amy versus staid, calm, reliable Aaron; their combustible relationship would have been ephemeral if Amy had not righted her ways; they are still together, contented and happy.
Writer/actor Amy Schumer stars in this semi-autobiographical tale of her own dysfunctional formative years; her relationships with her father, sister “Kim” and myriad of boyfriends; she writes for a gossipy, salacious magazine, uses alcohol to anesthetize her nagging qualms and her body as the prime tool of communication with men; Kim lives an uneventful existence with her husband and stepson; a life Amy ridicules, but secretly covets.
If you can tolerate the first fifteen minutes of “Trainwreck”, the ubiquitous bastardization of the word “like” (I stopped counting at the millennium mark), copious copulation, inebriated soliloquies, something remarkable occurs; realization that there is a substantive, likeable, intelligent woman clamoring to emerge from dissipation into formidable legitimacy.
Amy Schumer stuns with profound comedic perspicacity; Brie Larson, as Kim is the perfect foil for Amy’s lacerating wit; Bill Hader is flawless as “ Dr. Aaron Connors” (sport injury surgeon) patient, kind, drawn “like” a moth to a flame, hypnotized by Amy’s flamboyant aura. Predictability ensues but fine writing and succinct acting keep the film at an athletic pace. LeBron James, (Cleveland Cavaliers) playing himself, is positively commanding as an actor, a scene-stealer, riveting, rollicking as the instigator of an “intervention” when Aaron is wallowing in self-pity over his personal ruptures.
“Trainwreck” targets a millennial audience, but sheds understanding and enlightenment to those beyond their halcyon years; in a milieu of constant connectedness, “Amy” rises above monumental vicissitudes, finds her groove and soars.