Review of The 40 Year Old Virgin (2005) by Markb. — 06 Sep 2005

Okay, what have we learned from this summer's box office returns? If your movie involves Batman, Darth Vader or penguins, it'll make money; if it's another big, loud, expensive action movie from a director who's known for big, loud expensive action movies, it won't.

Best of all, and especially after years of hypocritical, offensive PG-13 fodder like Meet the Fockers, the summer of '05 brought with it the return of the honest, R-rated film comedy! It's also extremely interesting to note that while so many female-oriented romcoms, such as Must Love Dogs, The Wedding Date and Little Black Book are rather mean-spirited celebrations of human behavior at its self-centered worst, both Wedding Crashers and The 40-Year-Old Virgin--raunchcoms aimed at a primarily male audience--are genuinely goodhearted, sweet-natured and truly romantic at the core.

(Perhaps this is why so many women are flocking to them, too.) Steve Carell, who was memorable in supporting roles in Anchorman and Bruce Almighty, has a bottled-up, Rain Man-like quality that suits him perfectly for the role of Andy, the title character who has missed many sexual opportunities, doesn't feel he'll get any more, and channels his abundant excess energies into video games, comic books and action-figure collecting.

(Can you say "sublimation", kids?) It's a real tribute to Carell's and director Judd Apatow's script that, even though it deals in every stereotypical notion of this type of character possible (the only element missing is a fanaticism for either Star Wars or Star Trek, and I'm sure that's only because Lucasfilm and Paramount probably, and perhaps wisely, denied the rights), it also makes Andy refreshingly three-dimensional, appealing and tremendously sympathetic.

In fact, the movie's generosity extends to ALL the major characters; it has a lot of fun with Andy's workplace pals, his horny supervisor and numerous potential hookups, but never takes cheap shots at them the way certain comedies revel in doing.

(Yes, Rob Schneider, I'm talking to you.) In fact, a major thematic truth in this movie is that everyone in it has, like Andy, been seriously injured in the game of love; Apatow puts Lionel Richie's "Hello" and Asia's "Heat of the Moment" to great use, but could have just as appropriately added REM's "Everybody Hurts" to the soundtrack.

Whoever thought of casting Catherine Keener as Trish, the around-the-block free spirit who could complete Andy emotionally as well as sexually, is a genius. I've always admired Keener's witheringly sarcastic persona in movies like Being John Malkovich, but this change of pace role looks great on her; the woman's smile could've lit up all of New York City during the 1965 blackout.

The Greek chorus of Andy's coworkers (Paul Rudd, Seth Rogen, Romany Malco) is terrific too: endeavoring to "fix" their new friend, they provide the perfect working illustration of "the blind leading the blind"; Andy may be totally ignorant as to the mysteries of a woman's body, but these guys are equally clueless as to her mind and heart.

Lest I mislead you into thinking that a mainstream movie with this much intelligence and insight can't possibly be funny too, let me assure you that Virgin grabs you from the first, unforgettable early-morning visual gag, breaks into ramming speed (so to speak) during Rogen's monologue about what he did in Mexico over the weekend, and absolutely never slows down.