Film review: She's Out of My League

She's out of my league. 104 minutes. Rated MA15+. Directed by Jim Field Smith. Written by Sean Anders and John Morris

Romantic/comedy filmmaking can be a tough ask – with films often suffering from not having enough (or an imbalance), of either of its necessary ingredients. It's also a big personality genre; one that challenges its filmmakers to guarantee we not only laugh, but engage on the hard-to-reach levels of pure emotion. Some filmmakers have been more successful (Garry Marshall's 1990 smash hit Pretty Woman) than others (the unwatchable The Bounty Hunter), but no-one is helped by underestimating the difficulties associated with engaging with cynical worldwide audiences in matters of the heart.

These days, it's also very rare that a film has its audience continually laughing out loud – but this little value-for-money gem is an absolute delight. Playing with the almost prehistoric story of nerdy, under-achieving boy falling in love with gorgeous and successful girl, She's Out of My League rises above the earnestly self-concsious telling it might have been and delivers a fresh, hugely entertaining and often hilarious take on often-regurgitated themes. It is helped along enormously by the effervescent, perfectly pitched performances of its two charismatic leads (Jay Baruchel and Alice Eve, pictured), and a fantastically engaging supporting cast of rogues, misfits and the kinds of friends and family members whose lovingly quirky foibles we instantly recognise.

Kirk (Baruchel) works in airport security and is desperately trying to get back with his ex-girlfriend Marnie (Lindsay Sloane). When the gorgeous Molly (Eve) is racing to catch her flight and inadvertently leaves her iPhone at the security checkpoint, she asks Kirk to hold on to it and give it back to her when she returns the following night.

Field Smith's flighty, yet absolutely assured, direction of Anders and Morris's tight, breezy, inventive and witty script, moves along with hardly a moment's pause. Kirk and Molly's dinner date (one of the film's best first-date-nerve destroying sequences) is immediately topped by their lively trip to meet his folks – a priceless poolside and dinner table sequence that kicks the film into overdrive. While it certainly plays around with more than a generous dose of derogatory insult and lewdness (for which it doesn't quite deserve its severe rating), there is much to savour about this journey, even when the film unexpectedly dips into the darker territory of issues relating to incompatibility, self-esteem and personal failings.

Ultimately celebratory and friendship-affirming, the message here is an excellent one; that just maybe, on a scale of 1 to 10, we are all, in our own unique way, much higher up on the scale than we often give ourselves credit for. I left the cinema feeling uplifted and hugely entertained – something that hasn't happened in a long time.

This review was commissioned by the Geraldton Newspapers Group and was published in the print edition of the Geraldton Guardian.