They'll have you believe, these marketing types, that Bridesmaids is The Hangover for the ladies.
And evidence for their claim is everywhere. The master of blowing chunks with charm, Judd Apatow, is on producing duties. There are bodily functions misfiring at timely intervals (girls poo shocker!), there are untoward happenings beneath - and above - the sheets and a plane journey is pretty much wrecked by pills, alcohol and lashings of girlie back-biting.
But at its heart this doesn't stray too fair from the chick-flick-gal-pal formula that Sex And The City so successfully created then so dismally destroyed.
There is a substantial difference, though, from those by rote Aniston-athons and J-Lo-downs.
This has heart, originality, recognisable characters, belly-creaking laughs and a staggering performance from Kirsten Wiig as the woman whose life, loves and friendships crumble like the cupcakes she used to bake before life started kicking her in the teeth.
Wiig plays thirtysomething Annie, whose hapless descent into shambles and lonely bitterness is slowed only momentarily by the impending nuptials of best pal and childhood partner in crime Lillian (Maya Rudolph). Annie is put on maid of honour duties and has to rustle up the requisite rounds of carousing and weepy nostalgia.
Should she slip up, in the wings stands newcomer, perfectionist and perennially pretty Helen (Rose Byrne), an uber-bitch with a unfortunate line in excellent taste, mind games and easy wealth. As the battle for the bride's favours begins, Wiig finds herself in line for some lessons in humility.
The party of five each get a chance to shine with tubby Megan (Melissa McCarthy) finding plenty of meat in her character to steal a scene or two. And when Annie's lame link-up with Mad Men's Jon Hamm goes south, charming cop Chris O'Dowd is on hand to rescue her from loveless oblivion.
Aside from a curious cameo from Matt Lucas and the sugar sweet sentimentality at the end, there's rarely a wrong note anywhere. The comic setpieces are tuned to excruciating perfection and Wiig's race to the bottom punctuated with face-pulls and laughter lines that simply hit the spot every time.
This is Wiig's film by a mile (and not only because she was co-writer) and I doubt there'll be a better female performance all year.
She has come from bit-part obscurity but, after this showing, her diary will be full for a few years yet, (starting with a Bridesmaids sequel) leaving the likes of Applegate and Aniston ruing the dearth of accomplished scripts which prefer brutal truths to stale do-overs.
– From July 2011
