The Wrong Girls Review

Almost every stoner comedy since 1998 has lived in the shadow of The Big Lebowski, reassessed as a masterpiece in the years since its disappointing initial run. So if you’re trying to add to the canon, why not borrow some of its keys elements in a deliberate acknowledgement of its power? A few hapless friends thrust into an adventure they did not ask for amidst a world they didn’t know existed, a cast of (reasonably) well-known character actors playing strange and amusing supporting roles the protagonists can bounce off of, and a trio of Nihilists. Well, they’re Danish instead of German, and their monochromatic uniforms have been inverted, but they play the same role: a seemingly menacing force in the way of our heroes accomplishing their goal, but whose incompetence foils their aggression time and time again.

But writer/director Dylan Meyer’s debut feature isn’t a rip off of the cult classic, just a nod to it, so that’s where the plot similarities end.

While its dumb but entertaining farce puts it in league with Dude, Where’s My Car?, its structure calls to mind the kind of paranoid thriller where the main characters come into possession of something they shouldn’t, and have to spend the rest of the movie figuring out what it is, who wants it, and whether returning it to them is the right thing to do. Of course, Frankie (Kristen Stewart) and Molly (Alia Shawkat) are both huge stoners, living in a haze as much as possible, inventing new contraptions for smoking weed (the Bong-o-Tron) and new recipes for consuming it (brownies with a secret ingredient: blue cheese). They’re not dumb – Frankie is a Stanford dropout, and Molly seems to do some bookkeeping on the side. But the constant bake increases their absent-mindedness and tendency to lose time. That mixes with their general “just roll with it” attitude over this particular weekend to get them into more trouble than they know what to do with.

Case in point: a mix-up with Frankie’s doppelganger, Francis (also Stewart), results in Not Metal Head Dave (LaKeith Stanfield) giving her an official looking case filled with experimental drugs. In desperate need of rent money, and with no idea who the ultimate recipient is supposed to be, they decide to sell the drugs. But first, they each down a vial – how else could they figure out how to sell it? This leads them both on a mondo trip, full of psychedelia and giant squid and voices, the latter of which fail to disappear once they finally come down hours later. And not only have they gained the ability hear each others’ thoughts, they can hear the thoughts of their cats Dio and GG (Seth Rogen and Kumail Nangiani, who had to be here as two of the patron saints of the genre). Cue wacky telepathy shenanigans!

So why did the movie open with a Cate Blanchett-narrated segment about the giant squid? Well, for one, it’s hilarious to watch a nature doc with voice-over from someone who sounds like they’re speaking off the cuff fail to mask their complete disinterest. But the ultimate answer comes when they find their way to the lab of Dr. Olsen, played by Kate McKinnon in a wonderfully strange yet subdued performance that plays off the type of unhinged weirdos she so often inhabits while showcasing her dramatic talents. And it’s on the way there the women discover even more imbued talents that will prove useful in repelling those who wish them ill, each one cut with a flicker of the sea creature.

With the chaos and confusion that surrounds the women, the film struggles at times to stay motivated, slipping down narrative cul-de-sacs that amount to little. Some justify themselves with humor, such as their trip to the Souper Starz Buffet, where news of its imminent closure provokes Molly to go experience the five stages of grief in a matter of minutes, capped off with a tearful “I can’t believe I’m saying this for the last time. I’ll have two adult endless buffets, with drinks…And you know I have a coupon.” But there’s no need for Molly’s laptop to be stolen containing a the spreadsheet she’s been working on just to explain their instinct to sell the drugs. The accumulation of such scenes drags out the plot, although it’s never long before the humor is back on track, so you’ve little time to get hung up on it.

It’s able to land just enough emotional story beats down the stretch to satisfy, helping to smooth over its (relatively) grounding, but threatening to lose you in one of its more comedically muted stretches. Fortunately, it doesn’t hit them that hard during the film, although a few come back at the end, such as the dude (Morgan Krantz) Frankie meets at a party they crash while wearing clothing made of trash bags. Those that it eschews are equally surprising: for all the obvious queer storytelling potential, it’s never entertained for a moment. This is especially unexpected because although gay icon Kristen Stewart often plays straight characters, those films don’t often pair her with another female co-lead, never mind one who is themselves publicly queer, nor are they written and directed by her wife. That won’t stop audiences from asserting Frankie’s sexuality in their head canon, nor will the multiple dudes in which her and Molly express a romantic interest, but it’s a notable choice nonetheless.

There isn’t a whole lot to this movie other than having a good time and basking in the warmth of the women’s friendship as they stick by each other through their adventure. Sure, I could talk about its insecurities about holding on too tightly to your friends, distrust of authority and wealth, or its celebration of drug culture while refusing to pretend that there are no repercussions. Todd Banhazl’s cinematography is far better and more creative than it needs to be, and Ty Segall’s score is perfect from start to finish.  However, its sole aspiration is to tell an absolutely bugnuts story rife with bizarre but wonderful humor. Will it become a new stoner classic? I don’t know, as it’s neither quite as funny nor quite as gonzo as you’d hope. But the ingredients are all there for a solid film to throw on, sit back, and just vibe.