Fun
Frisky
Nostalgic
Intense
Adventurous
Choked Up
Curious
Romantic
Weird
Gentleman greeting card writer is a more popular protagonist choice than you’d think. Joining The Lonely Guy, Mr. Deeds and (500) Days of Summer in the film canon this week is Girlfriend’s Day, a Netflix original that zags through farce, fantasy, romance and whodunit.
Despite the title, Girlfriend’s Day is not about a rollicking pack of gals led by Kate Hudson, Rebel Wilson, Anna Faris or Kristen Bell. Instead, co-writer Bob Odenkirk (Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, and last night’s Late Show as a Stephen Colbert impersonator) stars as Ray Wentworth: formerly “Bill Shakespeare of romance cards,” currently taunted by the universe. He’s been in the doldrums since his wife (Grace & Frankie‘s June Diane Raphael) left him for the successful cartoonist behind the Optimistic Owl (Conan‘s Andy Richter). This alone is plenty to make a good movie: let’s explore the contradiction between a character and a job, à la Pretty Woman‘s Vivian, a sex worker infatuated with fairy tale romance.
Oh wait, there is more: Having lost his knack for warmhearted prose (and his job, and maybe soon, his apartment), Wentworth’s meal ticket seemingly arrives when the California governor launches a card-writing contest tied to a self-explanatory new holiday, Girlfriend’s Day. Friends, strangers and emissaries from rival card companies implore him to submit an entry. But he’s out of ideas. At this point, he’d rather cheer on Shitfoot—a homeless man on the reality competition series Bumflights: Volume 3—and pound whiskey to drown out hallucinations of his ex bedding a man-sized owl, a jolting visual jumble of Leda and the Swan and a 70s Tootsie Pop commercial.
Wentworth’s professional forefather, Orwell Taft (Larry Fessenden), bequeaths him with a genuinely good piece of writing advice: “Never write for anyone, always write for someone.” Conveniently, a pessimistic salesclerk named Jill (The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants‘s Amber Tamblyn, wife of Odenkirk’s Mr. Show with Bob and David and W/ Bob & David co-star David Cross) soon sidles up to him, and voila, a new muse. When an off-the-books Girlfriend’s Day assignment comes from his former boss (Alex Karpovsky of Girls), Wentworth accepts, so long as he can retrieve his old company notes. Halfway through the movie, Wentworth enters the office and finds Taft bleeding profusely from a knife wound, yanking the narrative from pleasantly ho-hum (except for that copulating owl and Bumfights) to complete head-scratcher.
Suddenly, there’s so much going on, including a flimsy investigation into Taft’s murder (resulting in the film’s best line: “He was killed to death”) and a roving duo of Neo-Nazis-turned-vigilantes. Talk of greeting cards turns every character into residents of Dick Tracy‘s The City. For someone in saccharine-sounding field, Wentworth sure does spend a lot of time bloodied, sustaining four separate injuries in the film’s 70 minutes. True identities are exposed in quick, hard-to-follow succession. Ultimately, Wentworth writes the card that exceeds all expectations, its message so transcendent that it is appropriate for anyone, girlfriend or not. Vexingly, the home audience is not made privy to its contents (so if you’re still bothered by Pulp Fiction‘s glowing briefcase, brace yourself).
Directed by Michael Paul Stephenson (The American Scream), Girlfriend’s Day is neither laugh-out-loud funny nor filled with extraordinary visuals, but I did find myself wanting to visit Card-Sharps, the bar where papyrophiles and poets are treated like superstars. With all the plot distractions, I wasn’t terribly invested in Wentworth or his plight, although I’d love drink alongside the real Odenkirk, a respected dramatic actor likely in possession of deliciously-unhinged anecdotes from his tenures inside some of the best comedic writers rooms ever assembled (The Ben Stiller Show; Late Night with Conan O’Brien; Saturday Night Live; The Dana Carvey Show; Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!; not to mention his collaborations with Cross). And I’d risk the violence to run in the same onscreen circle as Natasha Lyonne (Orange Is The New Black), Rich Sohn (Mad Men) and Lauren Lapkus (Crashing).
The most engaging pairing in the film is between Wentworth and his landlord’s elementary school-age nephew, who he babysits as a consolation for the overdue rent. From a playground swing, the boy asks Wentworth, “Do you love anybody?” as they watch a woman crying on a park bench. Not at all taken aback by the question, Wentworth replies, “Maybe. You?” “I love trucks.” “Consider yourself lucky,” announces this sentimental specialist. “Trucks never leave you.”
