Emma Seligman | 1hr 32min
There is little in Bottoms that breaks the formula of the classic high school teen comedy, though it is in this familiar realm that Emma Seligman is most comfortable sending up its Gen Z archetypes with their own brand of self-deprecating irony and dark humour. On its surface, the premise of two unpopular lesbian students beginning extra-curricular self-defence lessons for their fellow female students subverts the hyper-masculinity of its most obvious influence in Fight Club, though its narrative calls back even more distinctly to the sex-driven quest of Superbad and the violent black comedy of Heathers. After all, behind Josie and PJ’s mission is the simple objective to lose their virginities to cheerleaders Isabel and Brittany, and it is apparent that there are no lows too depraved for them to stoop to along the way.
The comic timing that Rachel Sennott and Ayo Edebiri share in these lead roles is sharp, positioning them as socially awkward and morally dubious misfits ready to exploit whatever good cause or convenient lie presents itself to them. They didn’t start the rumour that they spent summer in juvenile detention, but they are happy to capitalise on the clout it gives them, and local concerns around recent attacks from rival school Huntington provides the perfect feminist justification for their self-defence lessons. Of the two, Edebiri delivers the more sympathetic performance, though Sennott’s bratty egotism even more effectively underscores the hypocrisy of high school politics – regardless of where one sits in the hierarchy, everyone is as equally cruel.
This isn’t to say that Bottoms lacks sincerity, as Seligman pays real attention to the development of each fight club member towards a united empowerment, but even this comes by complete accident through PJ and Josie’s misguided leadership. Much like Seligman’s debut Shiva Baby, Bottoms is at its strongest when it embraces the chaos and savagery of the ensemble’s wildly conflicting personas, but also successfully turns the goofiness up a notch when painting out the meathead jocks as the broadest caricatures of them all. Outside of the fight club, quarterback Jeff is the greatest source of physical comedy, theatrically keeling over in extreme pain when PJ’s car gently bumps his knee, and submitting to his role as a damsel in distress at the film’s marvellously choreographed climax.
By the point that the full force of Seligman’s cinematic excellence is unleashed in this heightened, Tarantino-esque finale, it is a little too late to save the relatively dull visuals that pervade the rest of Bottoms, but if there is any scene which deserves such a remarkable set piece it is this. The stunt work is complex and dynamic, turning the football field into a battleground between two schools literally fighting for their lives in dramatic slow-motion and high-contrast while spectators watch in awe from the grandstand. Any remaining shred of realism that had previously lingered is gone, and in its place is a full-throttled commitment to bizarre spectacle exposing the absurdity of teenage politics, and the carnal desire for sex and violence that lingers beneath. In her deft balance of conflicting tones, Seligman smartly realises that there is no point choosing between sharp-tongued irony and lowbrow slapstick. Like so many real-world teenagers she is levelling her playful satire at, the high school students of Bottoms are as brilliantly quick-witted as they are disastrously stupid, and are all too happy staying that way.
Bottoms is currently playing in theatres.