With unyielding audacity, Paul Feig's Bridesmaids will both encourage and shame you into a bout of frenzied snickering, partly because of its sly, practical wit and partly because of its adventurous, inordinate bawdiness.
But whether it be a witty volley of bridal acrimony or an ill-timed rage of digestive trauma, the film hits the mark - be it cheaply or sagaciously - and this cast, anchored by Kristen Wiig's cutesy, vulnerable made of honor, delivers each gag or facial glance with precision.
Judd Apataw (whose name adorns more comedies than not these days) is given a producer's credit, and the film - for better or worse - strongly bares his influence with its raunchy, overlong, cynical-then-sweet story arc which builds up these intensely exaggerated characters (like Rose Byrne's deliciously villainous Helen) in its first two acts before tearing them down in the third.
For a film this audacious, this bravely ribald, it does inevitably disappoint given this foreseeable route that it eventually decides to take. Nevertheless, the actions and the motivations of the characters hold true, which is more than I can say about films of Bridesmaids' ilk - if, in fact, there are any. [B]