'I Used to Be Funny' Review: Rachel Sennott Shows Range in Ally Pankiw's Thoughtful Comedy-Drama
Since the short film version of Shiva Baby made its premiere at SXSW 2018, Rachel Sennott has become the fest's indie princess. Every year or so, she’ll come through with a new movie. Despite SXSW 2020 getting canceled, I’ll count Shiva Baby’s supposed premiere anyway. The film page is still up, after all! In 2022, she returned with Bodies, Bodies, Bodies. This year, she came in with not one but TWO leading features from queer CA-based filmmakers: Bottoms (Emma Seligman) and I Used to Be Funny (Ally Pankiw). At this rate, we have to start calling the festival SXSennott. Everybody knows Rachel for her comedic talent. Now, she taps into her dramatic side with a heavy-handed role in I Used to Be Funny. If you thought she was a star before, you haven't seen anything yet.
I Used to Be Funny
NR
Runtime: 1 Hour and 45 Minutes
Production Companies: Barn 12, Ontario Creates, Partizan, Téléfilm Canada
Distributor: Utopia
Director: Ally Pankiw
Writer: Ally Pankiw
Cast: Rachel Sennott, Olga Petsa, Jason Jones, Sabrina Jalees, Caleb Hearon, Ennis Esmer, Dani Kind
Release Date: June 7, 2024
SXSW 2023 Coverage
Up-and-coming Toronto-based stand-up comic Sam Cowell’s (Rachel Sennott) promising career upends following a sexual assault. As Sam struggles with PTSD, her roommates/fellow comedian friends Paige (Sabrina Jalees) and Philip (Caleb Hearon) try to help her get back on her feet while being her keeper. Her depressive state is so bad that minuscule objectives like taking a bath count as a certified win. Sam learns Brooke (Olga Petsa), the teenager she used to nanny, has gone missing. She recollects the events from their budding relationship and her once lively life before the assault. As she confronts her trauma head-on, Sam debates searching for Brooke, hoping to redeem herself to her.
I Used to Be Funny marks the debut of writer/director Ally Pankiw, whose work includes helming episodes of The Great, Schitt’s Creek, and MUNA music videos (including “Silk Chiffon,” which also starred Caleb Hearon). IUTBF bodes an equal challenge for Pankiw and Sennott to break from their comedic sensibilities and into a sensitive subject. Pankiw’s direction astounds through her thoughtful and honest approach.
The story is structured in fragmented pieces, with Sam’s past bleeding into the present, evoking the mental conditions of PTSD. Sam glances at a photograph of her and Brooke, which transports her to that memory. Many said instances occur with other objects, transporting her back to events to contextualize Sam’s relationship with Brooke, her caring ex-boyfriend Noah (Ennis Esmer), Paige, and Philip. In the same vein as many Terrence Malick movies, this non-chronological structure can potentially become gimmicky. Editor Curt Lobb (BlackBerry) constructs tight match cuts, elevating the film's intention to elicit the PTSD state Sam is in. The string of scenes cruise as Pankiw’s detailed character writing and Lobb’s tight editing let the story flow naturally. Even when the assault scene plays out, Pankiw’s filmmaking and Lobb’s editing equalize in illustrating the shocking events without traumatizing its viewers.
Sam and Brooke’s complicated relationship drives Sam’s healing and is the film's emotional center. After the first heated altercation between Sam and Brooke set in the present day, we cut back a few years to their first meeting. During a wealthy family’s tragedy, Jill (Dani Kind) hires Sam as Brooke’s au pair. Sam acquaints herself with a distressed Brooke with a mirthful conversation about Twilight. They instantly hit it off. As their bond intensifies, they practically become sisters.
Their sisterly bridge is rocky due to Brooke’s conservative police officer dad Cameron (Jason Jones), who Sam must always walk on eggshells around. Every moment of their small talk is uncomfortable due to his subtle sexist dialogue and condescending attitude toward Sam, whom he doesn’t think is conventionally funny. In one instance, Cameron shows her off to his fellow cop friends during a backyard hang and puts her on the spot with demeaning remarks about her humor. Every scene between Cameron and Brooke adds intense dread to the atmosphere, leaving the viewer with bated breath.
As heavy as those aspects are, Pankiw drifts around melodramatic trappings with natural dry humor and wit. Sennott, Jalees, and Hearon—all from comedic backgrounds—get to be their funny selves even when their characters aren’t onstage. Dark comedy is incorporated into several heavy moments, alleviating the tension. I’m also impressed by the realistic portrayal of the comedy “community,” where everyone is as career-oriented as they are competitive. Pankiw’s raw depiction of the female comic experience reminded me of Eva Vives' Mary Elizabeth Winstead-led indie comedy, All About Nina.
If you’re a returning reader, it’s no secret that Rachel Sennott is a dear friend of mine. She is the first friend I witnessed become a star in real time. With her first dramatic showcase, Sennott cements her rising stardom and range. She portrays Sam’s low-functioning energy and other complex emotions like depression, fear, and determination with honesty and subtlety. Much like Shiva Baby, this is another role where she delivers strong deadpan humor and layered facial expressions. Sennott breathes harrowing realness into her actions and line deliveries.
Sennott’s chemistry with Olga Petsa elevates her strengths, and Petsa is incredible in her own right. IUTBF marks the first time I've seen Petsa in a project, and she delivers natural empathy with her role, even when she’s running on peak angst. When the emotions ride high for her and Sennott, they confidently tackle the dramatic scenes.
The timeline between Sam’s past and present can be confusing due to the structure’s ambiguity. There were several instances where I couldn’t tell when an event took place, especially during brief snapshots. Some might get a little lost due to the storytelling style. Those instances are, thankfully, rare. Once the pacing settles and the timeline is clear again, everything feels smooth.
Raw, thoughtful, funny, and featuring a chilling dramatic performance by Rachel Sennott, I Used to Be Funny marks a stellar filmmaking debut for writer/director Ally Pankiw.
