Comedy

The arithmetic of The Wrong Girls is the kind that should be taught before anyone is allowed to say the word “passion project”: fourteen years from conception to camera, then twenty-nine days of photography. Fourteen years of what, exactly? Dylan Meyer, making her feature debut after a screenwriting career (An American Pickle, Moxie), describes the cycle without decoration: we had the money, we lost the money, we had the money, we lost the money. Her producer and best friend Maggie McLean remembers being broke at twenty-four in a back house, talking the movie into existence, and then spending a decade on the phone saying keep going. At the lowest point they were scouting New Jersey street corners, prepared to fake Los Angeles one restricted camera angle at a time, for a film whose entire reason to exist is Los Angeles. That is what a long raise actually looks like from inside: not a montage, but years of almost. ...

Strip away the pickleball and The Dink is a financing story, and a rather pure one. A comedy star and a comedy writer who play poker together have lunch. The star says he wants the kind of picture the studios stopped making; the writer says the word pickleball; they develop it together, pull in a producer through friendship rather than an agency package, finance the film independently, shoot it, finish it, screen it in Hollywood, and only then open the doors to buyers. Apple TV+ released it on July 24, and Jake Johnson’s own account of how that happened deserves to be pinned above the desk of everyone who still sends treatments into the streamer void: ...

Bref, the contemporary VFX industry is a bloated, miserable machine. Marvel throws $200 million at massive render farms and still produces mud. Yet, Mike Cheslik built a visually breathtaking, relentlessly inventive slapstick epic for $150,000 using little more than a consumer camera, some cheap mascot costumes, and sheer, uncompromising madness. Hundreds of Beavers is a monument to the power of the stubborn auteur. It proves that visual effects do not require massive budgets; they require an understanding of visual rhythm and an absolute refusal to quit. ...

Comedy is simply horror without the blood. Both genres rely on the precise, agonizing manipulation of tension until the audience is forced into an involuntary physical release—a scream or a laugh. In Shiva Baby, Emma Seligman brilliantly collapses the distinction entirely. She takes a mundane social obligation and weaponizes the cinematic language of the slasher film to execute it. Anatomy of the Craft: The Distorted Lens The genius of Shiva Baby lies in its optical cruelty. To capture the sheer claustrophobia of a crowded Jewish shiva, cinematographer Maria Rusche made a highly specific technical choice: shooting on Kowa anamorphic lenses. ...

The internet is not a visual medium; it is a sonic one. It is a relentless, exhausting barrage of pings, whistles, and vibrations demanding immediate, panicked attention. When attempting to adapt internet culture to cinema, most directors fail because they focus on the visual gimmick of floating text bubbles. In Zola, Janicza Bravo understands that to truly capture a viral Twitter thread on film, you must weaponize the sound mix. ...

I used to fucking love New Girl. I loved it’s manic-pixie-dream-ness, even though I knew I should know better. I loved it’s offbeat humour. I loved Nick Miller. Actually, I stand by that one. What a guy. But on a rewatch, I’ve realised just how much of a sausage-fest this supposedly female-led comedy is. Whilst it’s created by a woman (Elizabeth Meriwether), starring a woman (Zooey Deschanel) and even has ‘Girl’ in the title, it couldn’t be further from what we want when it comes to a sitcom that ticks feminist boxes. ...