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Almost like a forgotten relic of the late 70s, early 80s, when even summer comedies came with a touch of social commentary and a bit of class consciousness — when they ate the rich instead of aspiring to be one of them.
It’s such a warm and pleasant and human and *humanist* little film that it seems a tad rude to suggest that *Quinceañera* isn’t all it needs to be in order to be a film worthy of wholehearted praise and recommendation.
I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard — I’m talking soda-comin’-out-my-nose-hard laughter. A lot of it was the laughter of surprise, of the I-canNOT-believe-they-just-did-that kind.
You embrace this film wholeheartedly, because after it gets the initial smacks of satire out of the way, it becomes genuinely heartfelt, full of raw emotional power in a way that isn’t about satire…
It may sound bizarre to say that a film about women under threat of vicious, violent death is a triumph of feminism, but there we are…
It’s stylish and classy and beautifully acted but it so disappoints in the end…
I simply cannot get past the male-cows-with-udders thing. It’s weird. Not a good weird, the kind of weird you want outta yer typical wacky animated movie. It’s an uncomfortable weird.
It all comes down to whether you find Jerri Blank sad or funny or a little of both.
It’s a bug’s life, apparently.
Forget the pastels and glamour of Mann’s 80s TV show — this is a complete reimagining that is resolutely of the moment, that doesn’t deign to a single winking nod to the past.
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