Forgetting Sarah Marshall
What with the release of “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” comedy mega-producer Judd Apatow, whose “The 40 Year-Old Virgin,” “Knocked Up” (both with Apatow as director and writer), and “Superbad” have set the gold standard for raunchy fun, is officially the comedy counterpoint of Steven Spielberg. Like the 2-time Oscar winner, whether he’s behind the camera or just putting the team together, Apatow’s fingerprints are all over the film. The silly laughs. The lewd humor, The disarming romanticism and humanity. All are Apatow trademarks that come through in each project; it’s depending on the creative team at work to determine the projects’ overall success.
Like Spielberg’s work, a general rule of thumb has been that Apatow’s producer-only role churns out lesser films than when he’s calling the shots. Such is the case with “Sarah Marshall,” which has fewer laughs but the same aching heart for its’ main character, this time being Peter Bretter, a TV composers who specializes in “dark, ominous sounds” for a “CSI”-like drama starring his live-in sweetheart Sarah Marshall (Kristen Bell). You feel the love, even when he gets in the way at premieres and she buys him tacky clothes and accessories. But him planting his butt on the couch when he’s not writing is too much for Sarah, who breaks up with Peter (“How I Met Your Mother’s” Jason Segel, also our screenwriter) even though he’s buck naked (even giving us an uncomfortable look at his little-Peter in the process). Suffice it to say, Peter doesn’t take it too well, and goes into a drunk-and-fuck stupor laced with tears until his fed-up step-brother Brian (Bill Hader), whose nosy wife Liz gets in on things as well, suggests a vacation. Peter votes for Hawaii, but even the sweetness of desk clerk Rachel (“That ’70s Show’s” Mila Kunis) can’t take the sting out of the fact that Sarah’s staying at the resort too, and with her new squeeze, Brit rocker Aldous Snow (Russell Brand), no less.
From there, Segel and director Nicholas Stoller (an Apatow alum from the series “Undeclared”) stroll down familiar sitcom scenes of awkward meals and situations for the estranged lovers and newfound romantic possibilities for our rejected hero. What keeps the film from devolving entirely into cliche are the offbeat touches in Segel’s screenplay- Peter’s Dracula puppet musical is an inspired comic creation (making one very curious to see his upcoming Muppet movie he’s writing)- and the knockout cast. Segel plays awkward sadsack ideally; though not the genuine laugh machine of past Apatow leading men Steve Carell and Seth Rogan, Segel is a brave actor unafraid of unabashed humiliation, something that serves him well in this role. As the title character to be forgotten, “Veronica Mars'” Bell is hotness defined, though Sarah’s self-centered outward appearance masks a vulnerability that adds depth to the story’s sitcom surface. As the third point of this love square, Kunis delivers charm and emotional depth to a role that would be thankless in lesser hands…and forgotten were she not so damn cute. Rounding out the square is Brit comic Brand, whose sexually-confident rocker damn-near walks off with the movie as he is idolized by a waiter (Apatow ace Jonah Hill) dying to be in good with the star. (The waiter’s demo he hands Snow makes for the film’s biggest laugh.)
As always in the Apatow-verse, however, small roles generate big laughs. Hills fares better than Apatow vets Paul Rudd (as Kunu the surfer) and Hader, who did better with bigger roles (the former in “Virgin” and “Knocked Up,” the latter in “Superbad”), but minor stars are made of “30 Rock’s” Jack McBrayer and “Accepted’s” Maria Thayer as Darald and Wyoma, honeymooners with very different views on how sex should work. In their brief scenes, they get to the raunchy and rowdy heart of Segel’s story of romantic destruction, while Segel and Bell cut to the heart of what destroys a romance…Judd Apatow-style.
