Movie review: Post Grad

by John P. Meyer

In tandem with co-director Andrew Adamson, filmmaker Vicky Jenson directed one of the most entertaining, groundbreaking, and downright heartwarming animated features of recent years in Shrek ('01). She followed this accomplishment with the less-notable Shark Tale ('04), directing along with Bibo Bergeron. For her first solo feature film outing, Jenson offers up Post Grad -- a lightweight romantic comedy starring the pixie-ish Alexis Bledel (of Gilmore Girls fame).

Lightweight may be overstating the import of this fluffy cream puff of an entertainment, which has the misfortune to be releasing simultaneously with Tarantino's latest opus. Or perhaps it's clever marketing: Post Grad may find itself attracting some of the wife-and-girlfriend contingent of couples showing up at the multiplex for that violent WWII action-adventure .

But not for long, because even by chick flick standards this one sucks considerable ill wind.

Bledel plays Ryden Malby, a recent college graduate who thinks she's got it all figured out. She's quickly proven wrong when a much-anticipated job interview with a top-tier Los Angeles book publisher turns into an exercise in self-abasement. She's already rented an apartment on the prospect of getting her dream job, but her life-long rival Jessica Bard (Catherine Reitman, described as Ryden's "personal Darth Vader") gets the plum job instead.

Did I forget to mention that she crashes her car on the way to the interview? With no apartment and out-of-whack wheels, Ryden tucks tail between legs and resumes residency at the home of her agonizingly eccentric parents, Walter and Carmella (Michael Keaton and Jane Lynch). And her crotchety, hypochondriac grandmother Maureen (Carol Burnett). And her peculiarly peculiar little brother Hunter (Bobby Coleman).

About the only thing going for Ryden on the life-affirming side of the white picket fence is her loyal-yet-constantly-kept-at-arms-length boyfriend, Adam (Zach Gilford of the small screen Friday Night Lights, here demonstrating that he has the natural acting chops for a smooth transition to big screen leading man roles). As everyone and their dog might have anticipated, Ryden totally fails to recognize what a partner she has in Adam, falling instead for the swarthy Latin lothario who lives across the street (Rodrigo Santoro, as David).

Upon this rickety plot framework, scripter Kelly Fremon layers one not-particularly-comic misadventure after another. Grandma tries on caskets at the mortuary; Dad gets involved in a shady belt buckle sales scheme; little brother competes in the soapbox derby and ends up driving into a pond. (Tellingly, not a single member of his family bothers getting their feet wet to determine whether or not he's injured or, in fact, drowned.) Ryden herself goes to work as a P.A. for David, who produces infomercials; on her first day at work, he quits, unemploying them both in the process.

Events are punctuated with pop songs from the likes of Lily Allen, Gym Class Heroes, The Kooks, Joshua Radin, Lucy Schwartz, and Jack Savoretti. All of whom I'm sure will be happy to have the exposure regardless of how well the film does.

What irks me the most about this entire lackluster proceeding is its wrongheaded thematic treatment of cats. Walter is bedeviled by neighbor David's tabby, who has a nasty habit of crapping in his driveway. Have you, dear reader, ever heard of a cat who craps on concrete when there's plenty of flowerbed around? (Me, neither.) This was obviously a role better suited for a canine.

As our focus is directed back and forth amongst the goofy goings-on of the Malby clan, my suspicion is that this movie is striving to be a teen-centric variation on Little Miss Sunshine.

Not even close.