In Trainwreck we meet Amy. Amy is a 20-something magazine journo who lives in New York city. From the outset we are introduced to her through her provocative behaviour of drink-fueled one night stands, balanced out by her apparent career goals and obvious love for her sister and father. We are meant to laugh when, in an early scene, Amy finds herself in bed with a random from one of her many mid-week nights out – and we do. But 100 minutes in to the 124 minute running time, when this happens again, we don’t laugh as hard as we should.
Judd Apatow is an ingenious director in that he picks strong female and male leads to dominate his crude comedies – of which there have been many. And it’s obviously a winning formula. Trainwreck made $140 million after being filmed on a budget of just $35 million, and the general consensus is that it’s good – really good, in fact. Amy Schumer is the driving force of the film, and positioned with her we navigate New York through booze, recreational drugs and encounters with work colleagues, family and love interests. Bill Hader is spectacular (as always) as Aaron, the sweet-as-a-button sports doctor who Amy is forced to profile for work. The pair become entangled romantically, but not with a whole lot of romanticism.
Trainwreck is unique in its depiction of Amy and Aaron. Amy is a bit of a mess; she smokes weed, rocks up to work late and is surprised when Aaron wants to take things further with her after another one-night encounter. Aaron is a sweet-natured doctor who questions, but accepts, his girlfriends rebellious behaviour. Apatow and Schumer have successfully reversed the expected characterisation of how a man and a woman should behave and by doing so escape genre cliches, but as an audience we want to see some kind of journey in this dramedy that places us with a not-so-likeable protagonist. We only see a realisation of needed change from Amy when her actions have serious repercussions, and by that point it’s hard to keep on caring. Hader and Schumer are supported by a strong ensemble including Oscar-winners Brie Larson and Tilda Swinton but both roles are underdeveloped and the latter’s is laughably stereotypical.
Schumer is a star, and she will go far thanks to her strength as a writer and obvious comic prowess, but this isn’t one of Apatow’s strongest works. Trainwreck falls short of sentimentality and genuine displays of human emotion when it becomes lost to uncomfortable sexual encounters that should make us laugh but just make us squirm.