Sometime in the hurly-burly of the last few weeks I managed to catch America’s Last-Girl-Next-Door-To-Whom-We-Are-Clinging-With-All-Our-Might in her two latest.
Horrible Bosses 2 is at the multiplex, devoid of whatever spark of wit or originality the original had (not over much, admittedly, but pretty good by modern standards). This time around, Our Jen’s character has been transformed from a serial sex abuser to a comic rapist.
And, hey, who doesn’t find that amusing?
Funny thing, though. Like pretty much anything, she’s good at it–by which I mean comic rape and winning people over. Believe me, long before this was half-done, I definitely wanted to see her do something to that same crew I was sort of rooting for the first time around.
So, yeah, I’d probably go see a Horrible Bosses 3–but only if the advance buzz has her off-ing the lot.
Better, though, when she’s given something to do, which she definitely is in Life of Crime, the festival bait (based on Elmore Leonard’s Switch) which was shown around last year, slipped into a few dozen theaters a few months back and then sent straight to video.
You know things have come to a pretty pass when a faithful Elmore Leonard adaptation, set in crapulent seventies-era Detroit, serves as a palate cleanser.
But the juxtaposition was instructive, a vivid reminder that “the seventies” are another country in a way that no subsequent decade is…the last nervous moment before the Great American Stupor–of which Horrible Bosses 2 is such a splendid example–set in.
And that juxtaposition is all down to Aniston. I’ve said it before, but it’s a shame she missed the decade she would have been most at home in. Everybody else in the movie is playing it as though 1980 had already come and gone and nothing has changed since so it might as well be yesterday.
Not this womanl. She gets that the distinction is more than a change of hairstyles:
I wouldn’t want to post any footage from the movie. YouTube has the evil eye on me right now and, anyway, the North Koreans might not like it. But those stills convey the starting point–the core of a performance that starts brittle and ends free, a true transformation that’s way too subtle to attract raves or nominations for anything. Just another brick in the wall.
Too bad. It’s by far the best thing in a good-not-great movie and it’s about ten times as good as “it” girl Jennifer Lawrence’s much lauded, Oscar-nominated walk-through in American Hustle (another take on a period trophy wife which is truly timeless–it doesn’t owe a thing to a thing, certainly not to any possible distinctions between then and now, though I grant if Lawrence was trying to carry the Method to the logical extreme of making her own obvious boredom palpable,she succeeded brilliantly).
And in a movie with an exceptionally fine soundtrack (the period stuff is, for once, seamlessly interpolated with the modern mood music–naturally its not available on CD), the big-smile moment comes when Aniston’s character gets high with her former kidnapper (yeah, it’s an Elmore Leonard story alright) and the just-right music is playing: