It has been said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Many people wrack their brains over attaining some semblance of physical perfection. It is a desperate attempt to not be drowned out in a world full of natural beauties. What they fail to value, however, is their own personal, unique self and its ability to win someone over. The Motown group The Temptations did sing that “beauty’s only skin deep.”
Could a realization like this materialize after a good bump to the head?
That is the zany premise behind “I Feel Pretty,” the directorial debut of both Abby Kohn and Marc Silverstein. Starring the unpredictable Amy Schumer, the film’s attempt at honest reflection by its main character is doomed by the ridiculous nature of its catalyst.
To say that Renee Bennett (Schumer) is a little self-conscious about how she looks is a bit of an understatement. Whether she’s watching the next glamour tutorial video on YouTube or applying the makeup she’s stockpiled in her apartment, she’s doing all she can think of to try and stand out. Working out of the uncomfortable confines of an oversized storage room for Lily LeClaire cosmetics company’s website has allowed her to acquire that stockpile.
While attending a fateful spinning class one day, Renee’s overzealousness to shed some pounds leads to her taking a tumble off her bike and hitting her head. When she comes to, she takes a look in the mirror and cannot believe what she sees. She’s…the same as she was before? To everyone but Renee, yes. Renee sees herself in a whole new light, however, and mistakenly believes she has undergone some sort of transformation that has made her beautiful.
Emboldened with a new sense of self-confidence, Renee interviews for a receptionist position with Lily LeClaire CEO Avery LeClaire (Michelle Williams) at their headquarters and gets the job. She also turns a cringeworthy initial encounter at a drycleaner with a guy named Ethan (Rory Scovel) into a meaningful relationship as her “rebirth” takes flight.
Williams’s performance in the film is a waste of her great talent and ability. Her mousy voice, combined with her unconvincing caricature of a fashion industry mogul, is more distracting than amusing. Emily Ratajkowski, playing one of Schumer’s spinning classmates, is a misguided decision. It is fairly clear that her inclusion in the film is solely to use her beauty as a measuring stick for what Schumer’s character aspires to be. Scovel gives the only redeeming performance as he injects a humanly awkwardness and genuine kindness towards Schumer’s Renee as Ethan.
The overwhelming issue with the film is the plot device used that makes Renee reexamine who she is. The simplicity of a blow to the head seems too lazy to sustain an entire film. When the characters themselves seem to be in as much disbelief as the audience probably is that Renee thinks she’s physically changed in the movie, that is a problem. It also doesn’t help that after the noggin knock, Renee delivers line after line of misguided assertions that she is a new woman. The dialogue quickly wears thin, to say the least.
Near the end of the film, Renee proclaims, “I’m me, and I’m proud to be me.” Isn’t it plausible that a more creative and entertaining approach could tackle this most intimate form of introspection? Minus the concussion, too.
