Director: Jason Moore
Stars: Amy Poehler, Tina Fey
3 (out of 5) Globes
Seth Rogen has cornered the market on movies about manchildren anguishing over aging, usually with the help of copious drink and drugs and raunchy set pieces. “Sisters” doesn’t make a big deal about doing the same thing for women. Female twists on the Rogen/Apatow formula tend to balance their comedic and serious sides; “Bridesmaids” is as much an ad-lib yuk-fest as it is a shambling, brutally honest look at ennui. The second Amy Poehler-Tina Fey joint has its dark side, but it mostly drowns its sorrows in full tilt boogie hedonism. It’s a crazier, filthier, swearier film than the Rogen-led “The Night Before,” and it even knows how to make the fun hurt more.
Its melancholic streak is set up from the start so that it can bubble underneath, like a Sunday morning ready to come down. Poehler and Fey play Maura and Kate, opposites-attract siblings — the former uptight and do-gooder; the latter freewheeling and perpetually broke — who discover their parents (Dianne Wiest and James Brolin) have just sold their precious childhood home to some douchey yuppies. Maura was too busy being good to enjoy her youth; Kate meanwhile is despondent that she’s no longer young, though still dumb. At first, the wild party they hatch for their high school pals is the kind that happens when early-middle-agers congregate: lots of sitting, lots of talk of “vaginal rejuvenation,” lots of regret over time grinding people into dust.
It takes some doing to get these olds to destroy both a swanky Florida manse and their bodies. But once things kick up 10 or 12 notches, “Sisters” never looks back. It’s a party film in the vein of Blake Edwards’ “The Party” or, slightly less charitably, “Can’t Hardly Wait,” only with people who’ve been made boring by time unleashing their inner larval maniacs. “Let’s party like Vikings, because we may die tomorrow,” Kate declaims as she declares the party turn awesome.