Review: "I Feel Pretty"

“I Feel Pretty” is explicitly in the rich tradition of body switcheroo comedies like “Big,” with the caveat being that star Amy Schumer doesn’t actually change at all. Her character just thinks she does, and that gives her the wherewithal to live a life so utterly without fear, she’s able to make all her dreams come true.

The joke is that Renee Barrett (Schumer) is a frumpy girl who believes she’s just reacting to a world that suddenly shines down its approval upon her because she’s become spectacularly beautiful, when in fact it is she who is acting in a way that makes people take notice, smile and wish good things for her.

It’s dangerous for a man to talk about women’s body issues without risking alienation, but the theme is at the center of the movie, written and directed by Abby Kohn and Marc Silverstein, who previously made “The Vow” and “How To Be Single.” So here goes.

Schumer has the smart, sassy comedic persona of a swinging bachelorette. She likes to poke fun at herself, while also inserting cutting digs about how society only values women if they look a certain way, especially thin. Schumer has a figure that’s probably about average by modern American standards, but decidedly chubby by Hollywood’s merciless yardstick.

Someone of my mother’s generation would blurt something like, “she’s got extra pounds, but she wears it in all the right places.” She looks just fine to these eyes, but hey, it’s not about pleasing this here male gaze. It’s about accepting, and even liking, what you’ve got.

Renee works in the crappy web division of cosmetics giant LeClaire, an underground cave consisting of just her and a gruff, uncommunicative computer geek (Adrian Martinez). She’s got two great friends as wingwomen, (Busy Philipps and Aidy Bryant), but the New York City dating scene is brutal for “plain” girls. The trio signs up for Grouper, a group dating website, and is crushed when their fun-loving photo garners zero views.

Anyway, Renee gets conked on the head while at spin class, and wakes up thinking she’s magically transformed into the most beautiful person in the world. She’s worried her pals won’t even recognize her. Some of the film’s best scenes are of regular people running into this prideful, energetic woman, and their quizzical reactions to her confidence.

If their thoughts could be put into cartoon word bubbles over their heads, it would go something like this: “Hey, you’re not allowed to act gorgeous unless you actually are.”

The flip side is that people are eventually so ensorcelled by her verve, great things start happening to her. She’s given a job as the main receptionist at LeClaire, and soon charms the family of owners into letting her be the face of their new lower-cost cosmetics line.

Michelle Williams plays Avery, the CEO who has an MBA from Wharton’s, but is constantly undercut because of her kewpie doll voice. Tom Hopper is the rapscallion brother, Grant, who doesn’t do much but looks great in photo shirts that are perpetually two sizes too small. He finds himself pitching woo at the cherub-faced dynamo. Lauren Hutton plays the grandmother, who wants to upend their brand’s fancy-schmancy image.

I also liked Rory Scovel as Ethan, the regular joe who finds himself more or less coerced into a relationship with Renee. He’s at first bemused, then horrified, then entranced by this woman who goes for what she wants, and gets it. “You’re so yourself,” he says, awestruck.

The filmmakers make an interesting choice by never actually depicting what Renee thinks her new form looks like. Such a thing might have been off-putting, like when they did something similar for Gwyneth Paltrow in "Shallow Hal."

There’s a great scene where Renee enters a bikini contest, shaking her ample assets up against women without an ounce of jiggle, and her enthusiasm gradually wins over the skeptical crowd. In most movies she’d win the prize, but here the heroine has so much zest it barely even matters.

“I Feel Pretty” is a feel-good comedy with some decent laughs and a few nice lessons along the way. At 110 minutes, the film would’ve been better if it was a bit skinnier, something often true of movies but not so much for women, who’ve been pummeled into thinking less is always more.

Reeling Backward: "Paper Lion" (1968)

It's impossible to underestimate the power of expertise. Despite whatever natural gifts we may have, it only comes with endless hours, days, weeks, months and years of practice to hone our skills. Whether it's writing a coherent paragraph or throwing a perfect spiral pass, only time and experience allow us to become truly superlative at our endeavors.

Many have heard of the "10,000-Hour Rule" posited by Malcolm Gladwell in his book, "Outliers." It states that it takes that much time practicing a specific task to become an expert in it. The most famous example is that The Beatles played thousands of gigs between 1961 and 1964 before they broke out big.

The point is that academic study is no substitute for practical hands-on experience.

It reminds me of a story I often relate to show the difference between being an expert and a dilettante. While my 1969 Mustang spent the better part of a year in the shop being restored, I arranged to help out with the work to keep the bill down. I spent many Friday afternoons and Saturday mornings scraping paint, working on the interior and other odd jobs. I probably got in the way of the real mechanics more than I actually contributed, but I enjoyed being part of the process and learning something about how cars are put together.

Near the end of the restoration, the boss instructed me to install the light fixture on the rear bumper that illuminates the license plate. (Even though technically he was working for me, part of our agreement was that while I was in his shop, I had to do what he said.) I had the plate with the wire sticking out of it detached from the bumper so I could put in a new bulb, and then it was just a matter of screwing it in. But I couldn't get the light to come on. I checked and rechecked the connection, tried a different bulb, and spent probably 15 minutes futzing around with this light and couldn't get it to work.

Finally I gave up and asked the boss to come look. He eyed the problem for approximately a second and a half, then took the dangling plate and held it up so it touched the bumper. Immediately the light flickered on. He patiently explained that the metal fixture needed to be touching the bumper to close the electrical circuit.

Now, having been a halfway decent high school science student, I already knew this. But I'd never worked hands-on with something like this, so I couldn't grasp the simple nuts-and-bolts of how things worked. To the mechanic, who'd spent literally decades taking cars apart and putting them back together again, this was a no-brainer. But it stumped a non-expert.

This is very much the unstated subject of George Plimpton's 1966 book "Paper Lion," which became movie starring Alan Alda two years later. Plimpton had already written a book about pitching to major leaguers in the All-Star Game, and gone a few rounds in the ring with a champion boxer for another piece. He was convinced by his editor at Sports Illustrated (David Doyle) to try to replicate the feat as a quarterback in the National Football League.

The basic idea was to see how an everyman athlete would fare against elite professionals. The answer, not surprisingly, is that they would get their rear end handed to them. This is exactly what happens to Plimpton, though the movie is more interesting for its behind-the-scenes portrait of NFL players just as the league was coming to dominate American sports.

Plimpton shows up at training camp for the Detroit Lions with only the coaching staff aware of the ruse. Plimpton, who was 36 years old at the time, claims to have been playing semi-pro ball for the Newfoundland Newfs. In reality, his only experience playing quarterback was in co-ed touch football games with friends in Central Park.

Still, the other players more or less accept him for what he seems to be: an over-the-hill rookie taking a final, unlikely shot at a roster spot in the NFL. They joke about his Harvard alma mater and spindly body -- a weigh-in scene claims him as 175 pounds, though I'd guess Alda was actually about 20 pounds under that -- but no one dismisses him out of hand.

Until, that is, Plimpton engages in his first real practice scrimmage, and shows himself to be incapable of receiving the snap from the center. It's one of the typical little skills any serious football player acquires, knowing how to position the hands so the snapper knows you're there but doesn't break your fingers with the ball. Because Plimpton lacked that commonplace ability, the players immediately knew he was a charlatan.

This is probably the most interesting section of the movie, as Plimpton, having been revealed as an SI writer, struggles to fit in with the players and their unspoken code of honor. In an amazing bit of casting, not to mention logistics, all of the actual Lions players and coaches depict themselves, including Alex Karras, Joe Schmidt, Roger Brown, John Gordy, Mike Lucci and so on. Vince Lombardi and Frank Gifford even turn up.

A few of the performances are wooden -- Schmidt speaks all of his dialogue as if from a cue card held just off-camera -- but most of the players are completely naturalistic and believable.

At first the players are offended that an amateur would be inserted amidst their ranks. One gives a speech about how unlike boxing and baseball, football is a total team effort. Everyone has to know what everyone else on the field is doing. If they don't, error and injury usually occur. Having one inept man in the huddle can result in disaster.

Now, this palooka might have given up 70 I.Q. points to Plimpton. But in his native environment, he's the genius while the brilliant writer is the dimwit.

Director Alex March, a TV lifer who only directed one other feature film apart from this one, makes the bold choice of layering dialogue on top of itself, so the audience feels like it's really in the midst of a bunch of bantering guys. For the final sequence involving a preseason game against the St. Louis Rams, March apparently filmed a real game with the players miked up, and used their extemporaneous mutterings to great effect.

Years later, Roger Altman would use this same technique in "Nashville" and other great films.

Of course, this being a Hollywood movie instead of a straight piece of journalism, things get changed around a bit. The most notable is that Plimpton never got into a real game with another team. NFL Commissioner Pete Rozelle found out about his presence on the team in the middle of a preseason game, and at halftime Schmidt was ordered not to put Plimpton into the game under any circumstances.

His fictional performance in that game actually matches one Plimpton related in his book during inter-team scrimmage, when he managed to lose yardage on five consecutive plays. Another scene invented for the movie shows him scoring a touchdown during practice, but he later learns it was a set-up. But in the end the coaching staff and players respect Plimpton for his efforts, taking his hits without complaint, and all sign the game ball for him.

Another major disparity with reality is the presence as Karras, then one of the most popular players in the NFL, as one of the top supporting players. In actuality, during the preseason Plimpton spent with the Lions, which was 1963, Karras was suspended from the league for gambling. He's still an amiable presence, part bruiser and part back-slapper, and it's no surprise that he would go on to a healthy television and film career after his term on the gridiron ended.

In addition, the movie shows Roger Brown being traded to the Rams, something that didn't happen until 1966. Schmidt also wasn't the coach during 1963.

Lauren Hutton made her film debut in "Paper Lion" as Kate, though it's never quite clear if she's supposed to be Plimpton's assistant, his lover or some combination of both. She's a vision of loveliness, of course, and draws a lot of attention from the other Lions.

"Paper Lion" isn't a particularly well-crafted movie. March's camera work is a bit confusing, especially during the football scenes. Alda is a feisty presence, though, and I enjoyed the way the film brutally shows what it's like on the wrong end of a quarterback sack.