Reviewing Trainwreck Without Having Seen It

First, before the article begins, I feel it is my duty to answer this question since it is the eternal debate with men regarding Amy Schumer: Is she hot? And the answer is…eh, not exactly, but I’ve certainly put it in worse. And she isn’t tripping over herself to hop on my Greek column, either, so we’re all good.

With that out of the way, it’s time to tackle Trainwreck (alliteration is the writing gimmick of a rube). The film was written by and stars Amy Schumer (a comedian whom I at least respect for hiring every comic she came up with for any conceivable side role they could play) and was directed by Judd Apatow, whom I once loved until he lost me with the second half of Funny People. But it doesn’t matter whether or not they get my ticket money, because the movie is going to make fucktons of cash. Women love Amy Schumer. A lot of guys do, too. And, like most of Apatow’s other fare, once you get past all of the dick jokes, there’s going to be an adorable, all-too-likeable little date movie couched underneath. This film is a marketing tactical nuke. It cannot fail.

Here’s my problem with Trainwreck: The movie starts off celebrating Amy Schumer as a boozing cum dumpster. In fact, from the looks of the film’s previews, that’s the whole gag: This girl is only taking the tequila bottle from her mouth long enough to shove a cock in it! Wowza! And that’s fine. Promiscuous women are the best. If every woman were a massive whore, the world would be a much happier place. I’d be having more sex with women out of my league because they’d be content to slum it up once in a while, and they would enjoy a sexual experience they normally wouldn’t have, like getting fucked in the twin bed I grew up using, staring at models of Spitfires and Messerschmitts hanging from my ceiling as I gasped for air like a Bulldog whose owner jogged with it too long.

But I’ve been studying screenwriting lately and, in order for the three-act structure of a film to work, the protagonist needs to undergo changes starting with act two that climax with a full transformation in act three. Otherwise, Michael never becomes the Godfather. Dorothy just fucks around Kansas playing “lick the peanut butter” with her stupid dog. Debbie never does Dallas. You get my point. It means the crux of the movie is going to be Schumer realizing that true happiness won’t come from drinking, fucking and sucking, but a monogamous relationship with Bill Hader, a man that looks like he’s never once taken off his socks to have sex.

And is that really all that rah-rah girl power? It seems hokey as shit to me. Yes, it’s a fine plot point for the average romantic comedy, but don’t push the movie out there as brave and bold when the conclusion is going to be, “Well, being a whore has its moments, but it doesn’t get you love, does it, you alcoholic, loner tramps? So push those gams back together in order to find happiness!”

I award Trainwreck three out of five erections (wait, I’m not reviewing this for Oui magazine). Despite the negativity rippling through cunty little missive, I’m sure the movie will have some solid laughs, especially if you need a date movie or are a fan of Amy. My problem is that, for a movie from a director supposedly on the cutting edge of comedy, Apatow’s schtick of “I’m raunchy up until the point the movie needs emotional gravitas, at which point I drop all of that shit and am as edgy as Jimmy fucking Stewart” is getting old as hell.

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