Ally Pankiw's feature debut "I Used to be Funny" competently explores fragile experiences of depression and PSTD, recovering from assault, and child endangerment with a tame dose of fragile drama, sprinkled with witty humour.
Pankiw's choice to present the story through sequencing between Sam's mission to find a missing Brooke, the young girl she nannied, and frequent flashbacks of memories of the two's once-close bond. While the concept of a non-linear narrative is meant to efficiently expand the dynamics and pasts of the characters and their journeys, which it technically achieves for the majority of the film. The beginning of this sequence felt static as the vague nature that shrouded the connection between Sam, her trauma, and her past with Brooke, overstayed its welcome in the first third of the story. However, the pace thankfully accelerates once the first clues of Brooke's disappearance are uncovered.
Some elements of the film at times, lean too hard into melodrama that lacks actual substance, especially in the vague and unmoving first third of the film. Cuts to some flashbacks that felt somewhat cliche a script that at times felt too expository, and perhaps two-too-many Phoebe Bridgers needle drops; tools that ask the audience to engage with the characters and the mysterious tragedy that haunts them. These elements may have been appropriate in the context of a television episode, considering Pankiw's background in TV direction, but unfortunately fell flat within a full-length feature film.
Amidst these faults, one of the film's greatest strengths is its talented cast. Rachel Sennott's has not only cemented herself as a star of off-beat and relatable comedy but also demonstrated a striking capacity for performances filled with intense vulnerability, harmoniously embodying all relevant elements of the tragicomedy genre. Her ability to foster chemistry with the rest of the cast only adds further dimension to the sorrow and humor that defines her character's journey.
Overall, I Used to Be Funny poses an intimate image of how trauma can take control of our lives and sense of self-worth. While bleak, the potential for healing is also presented as the empathetic and hopeful conclusion to Sam and Brooke's journey. While the film's approach at times lacks the ingenuity and impact it clearly intended to bring, it remains that Pankiw's strength lies in how she stays firm with the difficult themes and issues she addresses.
Pankiw's choice to present the story through sequencing between Sam's mission to find a missing Brooke, the young girl she nannied, and frequent flashbacks of memories of the two's once-close bond. While the concept of a non-linear narrative is meant to efficiently expand the dynamics and pasts of the characters and their journeys, which it technically achieves for the majority of the film. The beginning of this sequence felt static as the vague nature that shrouded the connection between Sam, her trauma, and her past with Brooke, overstayed its welcome in the first third of the story. However, the pace thankfully accelerates once the first clues of Brooke's disappearance are uncovered.
Some elements of the film at times, lean too hard into melodrama that lacks actual substance, especially in the vague and unmoving first third of the film. Cuts to some flashbacks that felt somewhat cliche a script that at times felt too expository, and perhaps two-too-many Phoebe Bridgers needle drops; tools that ask the audience to engage with the characters and the mysterious tragedy that haunts them. These elements may have been appropriate in the context of a television episode, considering Pankiw's background in TV direction, but unfortunately fell flat within a full-length feature film.
Amidst these faults, one of the film's greatest strengths is its talented cast. Rachel Sennott's has not only cemented herself as a star of off-beat and relatable comedy but also demonstrated a striking capacity for performances filled with intense vulnerability, harmoniously embodying all relevant elements of the tragicomedy genre. Her ability to foster chemistry with the rest of the cast only adds further dimension to the sorrow and humor that defines her character's journey.
Overall, I Used to Be Funny poses an intimate image of how trauma can take control of our lives and sense of self-worth. While bleak, the potential for healing is also presented as the empathetic and hopeful conclusion to Sam and Brooke's journey. While the film's approach at times lacks the ingenuity and impact it clearly intended to bring, it remains that Pankiw's strength lies in how she stays firm with the difficult themes and issues she addresses.