Where did it all go wrong? “Shiva Baby” was such a statement debut, one that felt like the first fresh voice of a new generation of filmmakers — Gen Z (or at least damn close to it) was here to tackle issues our generation is dealing with in only the ways we can. Maybe that was too much pressure to put on Emma Seligman, whose first feature was executed perfectly, though perhaps not as ambitious as one would like from one of the would-be leading artists of a new film movement. But the potential was there, only for it to be completely squandered within one movie.
“Bottoms” is the kind of film that makes you reevaluate how you felt about the artist’s previous work. Was I wrong about “Shiva Baby”? Do I even want to revisit it now to see? It’s such a wild stylistic shift that the two films barely feel made by the same person. You have to wonder how much of that is Rachel Sennott’s doing. Previously just the star of “Shiva Baby,” Seligman’s muse co-wrote the screenplay for “Bottoms,” and it seems her loud, over-the-top energy overpowers Seligman’s once strong, unique voice.
That might not matter if you’re in tune with the film’s style of humor, a mixture of crass one-liners and campy slapstick reminiscent of a bad “Saturday Night Live” sketch, all delivered with overconfident theater-kid energy. In this case, the laughs will come quickly and often. But, if you’re like me and you find this unbearably obnoxious, “Bottoms” will be a painful experience, lacking anything resembling an actual joke, having a minimal grasp of what makes for funny visual comedy, and feeling as though the entire movie is listening to someone laugh at their own unfunny bit.
Not that Seligman and Sennott give a fuck what I think about their movie, which is admirable in a comedy. It doesn’t feel the need to appeal to everyone, which is probably why several people I know, and many in the theater with me, seem to love this film. And comedy, more than anything else, will spark wildly varied opinions because of how extremely subjective it can be. Two people may not both be overwhelmingly moved by good dramatic work, but they can at least recognize it as such. Not so if one person finds a joke hilarious and the other doesn’t. The least you can do as a filmmaker is have something there for the people who inevitably aren’t going to find your movie funny.
Maybe that comes in the form of compelling character drama (probably too much to ask for in a movie like this), intricate or dense narrative plotting, or bringing in elements from other genres (like how “Shiva Baby” uses several horror movie techniques). But “Bottoms” is so determined to wear its influences on its sleeve that it doesn’t try to do anything new with the material, nor does it take a moment to realize those influences are generally terrible. It reuses all of the narrative and filmmaking tropes of the 2000s cult teen movie canon with such earnest affection that it can’t reach the point of parody required to make this material work. It’s not making fun of those awful movies, it wants to be one. And by God, it succeeds.
