The Little Hours is a hilarious and ribald romp involving nuns, priests, laborers and hypocrisy. Though it takes place in the 14th century and features era-appropriate setting and attire, the dialogue and behavior are decidedly modern.
To open the film, three nuns at a convent diligently attend to their daily chores-an innocent beginning. When a polite handyman merely says hello, one of the nuns, Fernanda, lambasts him, "you f***ing pervert! Don't look at us!" Clearly the unhinged member of the group, Fernanda is played wonderfully by Aubrey Plaza, who seems to have a knack for this sort of thing.
The other two nuns, Alessandra (Alison Brie) and Genevra (Kate Micucci), also deal with their own demons, though without the same raging outbursts. All of them are sexually repressed and desperate for attention, so when a handsome laborer (Dave Franco) shows up, they all aggressively pursue him in their own way.
The introduction of a man into an all-female environment calls to mind themes of The Beguiled. The women compete for his attention, throwing themselves lustily at the poor fella, who is only here because he had to flea his prior post for sneaking around with the owner's wife. He wants to avoid similar trouble here but can only resist for so long.
The plot could easily read as a tragedy if a few tweaks were made. It's an illustration of how fine the line can be between comedy and deep drama.
But, of course, no one would mistake this for a drama. The actors make sure of that. Plaza's ruthless, domineering presence intimidates fellow characters and amuses viewers, who are safe from her wrath. Micucci masterfully plays the smarmy beta, fearful and uncertain of everything. When she finally cuts loose, she's a tornado of libido. Her knack for physical comedy and facial contortions make her the comedy standout of the film. And John C. Reilly's drunken, blubbering priest listens carefully to confessions and gives sage advice but is hiding depravity of his own.
As the plot dives deeper and deeper into exaggerated hypocrisy, it becomes funnier and funnier. The bold and self-assured delivery of its barbs at religion is a clear acknowledgement that it smirks at those who may find the material offensive.
With less capable direction, this movie could have sputtered halfway through. It operates mostly on the strength of one joke, so competent hands at the reigns were necessary to maintain the momentum.
The messages are complex and heavy, but the film approaches with a light touch. It remains hilarious throughout, no matter how ridiculous the events unfolding become.
Loosen up and enjoy this one. It's a riot.
To open the film, three nuns at a convent diligently attend to their daily chores-an innocent beginning. When a polite handyman merely says hello, one of the nuns, Fernanda, lambasts him, "you f***ing pervert! Don't look at us!" Clearly the unhinged member of the group, Fernanda is played wonderfully by Aubrey Plaza, who seems to have a knack for this sort of thing.
The other two nuns, Alessandra (Alison Brie) and Genevra (Kate Micucci), also deal with their own demons, though without the same raging outbursts. All of them are sexually repressed and desperate for attention, so when a handsome laborer (Dave Franco) shows up, they all aggressively pursue him in their own way.
The introduction of a man into an all-female environment calls to mind themes of The Beguiled. The women compete for his attention, throwing themselves lustily at the poor fella, who is only here because he had to flea his prior post for sneaking around with the owner's wife. He wants to avoid similar trouble here but can only resist for so long.
The plot could easily read as a tragedy if a few tweaks were made. It's an illustration of how fine the line can be between comedy and deep drama.
But, of course, no one would mistake this for a drama. The actors make sure of that. Plaza's ruthless, domineering presence intimidates fellow characters and amuses viewers, who are safe from her wrath. Micucci masterfully plays the smarmy beta, fearful and uncertain of everything. When she finally cuts loose, she's a tornado of libido. Her knack for physical comedy and facial contortions make her the comedy standout of the film. And John C. Reilly's drunken, blubbering priest listens carefully to confessions and gives sage advice but is hiding depravity of his own.
As the plot dives deeper and deeper into exaggerated hypocrisy, it becomes funnier and funnier. The bold and self-assured delivery of its barbs at religion is a clear acknowledgement that it smirks at those who may find the material offensive.
With less capable direction, this movie could have sputtered halfway through. It operates mostly on the strength of one joke, so competent hands at the reigns were necessary to maintain the momentum.
The messages are complex and heavy, but the film approaches with a light touch. It remains hilarious throughout, no matter how ridiculous the events unfolding become.
Loosen up and enjoy this one. It's a riot.