A famous Russian film critic from Peru once observed that for every film he reviewed each week there were at least five that slipped by unseen. I, too, have missed plenty of movies in my time, in my youth largely because my parents were notorious censors of my Blockbuster choices. At the time I couldn't fathom why something as celebrated as The English Patient should be denied to a James Bond aficionado as cultured as I. (A recent viewing, however, leads me to suspect that full frontal female nudity and a slice-and-dice of thumbs might have had something to do with it.)
Not all the "missed" movies are really anything to write home about. In fact, many of them aren't. But every now and then you rent something that, for whatever reason, you didn't hear about until months, sometimes years, later, and it turns out to be just so gosh darn good that you can't believe you only just finally saw it.
Case in point: Waitress. A film that is so uplifting and cherished and thoughtful that it's like taking a huge, seemingly endless bite of your favorite pie, only without the tooth decay or uncomfortable sugar high that you got when you were a little kid. It's clever and winning and cute, but not so clever or winning or cute that you admonish it for being too much so.
Effortlessly pleasing, you might say.
Small-town Southern waitress Jenna, who bakes exquisite pies for the local diner, hates her sloppy and degenerate husband. (Actually, the husband might not be a degenerate, but he sure looks, smells, acts, and thinks like one.) Unfortunately, the degenerate also recently got her pregnant, and Jenna makes her way to the local gynecologist - who, it turns out, is a charming Northern newcomer named Dr. Something. (She always refers to him as Dr. Something.) Tasteful, PG-13 adultery ensues, among lots of quirkiness, a little sadness, and a whole bunch of pie creating, making, and eating.
There aren't many surprises; or, I should say, there aren't any unwanted ones. Its plot twists are obvious right off the bat, but in the most appealing way possible. If you go into Waitress looking for just a little bit of goodness, you're well-fed. It doesn't preach, it doesn't jolt, and, even more of a rarity in such unabashedly feel-good fare of late, it turns out not to be lame.
I don't know what's with this whole pregnancy-themed, comedies-with-a-heart thing these days, but as far as I'm concerned, keep 'em coming. For as varied in nature as Knocked Up, Juno, and Waitress are, each manages to pop the babies out with just the right amount of "ha ha" and "aw" - never to the point of me gagging on sweetness - and, DVD sales-wise, are worth plenty of re-watches.
Superficial, if apt, comparisons aside, Waitress stands apart as one of the most thoughtful, though buttery, flicks I've come across in a long while. Leave the skepticism aside, arm yourself with a big sweet tooth, and dig in.
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