Not Your Average Wed.

Hey, everyone out there in Internet-land! This is the first film review. It's old and outdated, but it was an indie film, so chances are you didn't see it anyway.

Film: Humpday (2009) 

[R]

Humpday falls flat

Functioning more aptly as a nickname for Wednesday than as an indie-comedy, Humpday leaves viewers asking the same question they did at the end of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince: Is that it? The answer: Sadly, yes.

Painted as a comedy almost completely reliant on the absurdity of its content, Humpday is the story of college friends Ben (Mark Duplass) and Andrew (Joshua Leonard) reunited by the crossing of paths when the free-loving — and loading — Andrew, with no resources but plenty of time to travel, unexpectedly shows up at Ben’s door. Their acquaintance seems to pick up right where it left off when they parted ways after college, except for one small fly in the ointment: Ben’s married now and got “the ball and chain”, as Andrew puts it, to keep him grounded.

Determined to prove that marriage plus job plus house in his name does not equal stuck, Ben jumps into Andrew’s world of sex, drugs, and porn competitions. In a moment of less than sound judgment, the two conceive the idea and agree to make a non-gay man-on-man “art” film that will redraw the boundaries of pornography.

Reminiscent of, but not nearly as evocative as, Zach Braff’s predicament in The Last Kiss, Duplass’ character is faced with the strain he chooses to place on his marriage because of his desire to make this film even he doesn’t fully understand. Humpday flounders here with writer-director Lynn Shelton’s character, Anna, whose attempt at feeling betrayed comes off more like apathy: she devotes a whopping ten hours of consideration before submitting to Ben’s “other side” and playing along with his cinematic endeavor.

Though at no point do the “gloves come off”—proverbial or otherwise—shirts, pants and the all-important, yet hopelessly awkward, socks do, and what comes next is exactly what viewers wanted to see least: nothing. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think anyone was hoping for overt penetration, but even a fade out to post-coital reactions would have been more satisfying. Though the boys scratch the surface of potentially interesting conversation with talk of what makes art meaningful, when Ben resolves that he, “really fucked up with Anna” and should go, viewers are left wondering at the almost frantic way Andrew packs his things as if on the run — but from what? Dissatisfaction with love, life, or both? — but then plays back the “testimonial” they made pre-filming and laughs.

In short, Humpday fell short. Duplass and Leonard offer audiences a treat with flawlessly crafted dialogue, which captures all the nuances of candid speech from the use of the f-word as a verb, adjective, and an expletive, to the rapid changes in cadence akin to friendly disclosures. What’s more, Duplass reminds audiences of a Vince Vaughn type —a style this Chicagoan can respect — and in the wake of Zac Galifinakis’ success in The Hangover, Leonard’s look and unpredictability are entertaining to unfold. What is frustrating is that we never get much further than that, the interesting exteriors — a problem which sums up the movie as a whole.