The film focuses on Jason and Julie, a very likeable pair of thirtysomething best friends. Jason, a successful advertising executive and commitment-phobic womaniser, is played by Adam Scott (“Parks and Recreation”). Julie, an investment advisor and loving player of the “would you rather...?” game, is played by Jennifer Westfeldt (“Kissing Jessica Stein”). Jason and Julie live under the same roof, in a swanky apartment building in Manhattan. They have been close, supportive BFFs ever since college, but the prospect of sharing a romance has never once crossed their minds. They are strictly platonic, and comfortably so.
Jason and Julie share four good friends, consisting of two married couples who make up half the cast of “Bridesmaids” (“Friends with Kids” was in fact filmed well before that comedy smash-hit began shooting). Ben and Missy (Jon Hamm and Kristen Wiig), perpetually sex-mad, live in Manhattan, while Leslie and Alex (Maya Rudolph and Chris O’Dowd, with a dodgy American accent), more placid and settled, live in Brooklyn. In a late-night dinner date, it is show that both couples’ relationships are healthy and at the very least contented, but then again they are yet to take that dreaded plunge into the world of babydom. That’s about to change.
Four years later, Jason and Julie quietly observe this change during Jason’s disastrous birthday party at Leslie and Alex’s Brooklyn apartment, which now looks like the result of an explosion in a Toys R Us store. Leslie’s constant mothering of their young child has left her exhausted, and Alex has taken to locking himself in the bathroom in a desperate attempt to avoid his family. Ben and Missy, whose kid is younger than that of Leslie and Alex, have turned to drink and have grown increasingly resentful towards each other. On the walk back home, Jason and Julie theoretically discuss the peculiar prospect of raising a child without the added stress of having to sustain a relationship, and soon decide that that’s what they’ll do together: have a kid without “all the shit that comes with marriage.”
This results in one of several rib-tickling moments scattered throughout “Friends with Kids,” as Julie and Jason attempt to conceive a child. They opt for the more traditional method, i.e. sexual intercourse, with no turkey basters entering the equation. They start by watching a sleazy porn movie together, which doesn’t turn them on so much as stir up verbal criticism of said movie. Kissing proves awkward, so they decide not to kiss. Julie giggles uncontrollably as Jason begins to... well, do the no-pants dance. It’s quite touching, in its own little way. But the deed is done, and nine months later out pops a baby boy, whom they name Joe.
The idea is that Jason and Julie, without being romantically involved, take scheduled turns at nurturing Joe, promising to be “100% committed half of the time.” They are allowed to date others, so long as the baby remains fully cared for and is brought up in a loving, happy environment. Upon hearing of their friends’ plan of having their cake and eating it, Ben, Missy and Leslie believe it to be a horrible idea. “They are so fucked,” Ben and Missy whisper to each other while sneaking off into their kitchen. Alex disagrees: “It’s a brave new world, honey,” he tells his wife. “Today, there are test-tube babies and surrogate babies and Jon & Kate Plus 8.” Fair enough.
Written and directed by Westfeldt (in a more-than-capable directorial debut), “Friends with Kids” plays out like a much more foul-mouthed and vaginally-focused work by the late Nora Ephron. I mentioned “When Harry Met Sally” earlier, and I think content-wise it is a fair comparison: “Friends with Kids,” like the Ephron-scripted 1989 rom-com, explores the boundaries of platonic friendship through the eyes of two affectionate best pals and comes to a conclusion that is as predictable as it is inevitable. I don’t mind this: rom-coms are by nature predictable, and for one to veer off in an unexpected direction would itself be predictable. That’s a screenwriter’s dilemma right there.
What I do mind is when a rom-com goes down the predictable route and struggles to properly convince me that that’s the route its characters would take. “Friends with Kids” is such a film, establishing characters who are believable and convincing, and performed so, and then lining up hoops for them to slavishly jump through during a third act that feels forced and inauthentic. It’s odd seeing these people made to attempt the same obligatory hoops previously cartwheeled through by the likes of Jennifer Lopez and Ashton Kutcher, or indeed Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan all the way back in ‘89.
I liked Jason and Julie, both as individuals and as a pairing. The two share an appealing chemistry when on-screen together, performed with charm and pitch-perfect comic timing by Scott and Westfeldt. Jason is snarky but good-hearted, and Julie is sweet and sensitive. They make for a good parenting duo too, lending a helping hand to each other without a word of objection. Naturally, things aren’t so warm and fuzzy when they begin dating others (Jason dates a large-breasted Broadway dancer played by Megan Fox, while Julie dates a well-endowed construction contractor played by Edward Burns). Jealousy prevails, and thus their characters become slaves to formula.
But whatever. For much of its runtime, “Friends with Kids” is a pleasant watch and a pleasing alternative to the charmless romantic dross that Hollywood so regularly likes to churn out nowadays. It is cleverly written by Westfeldt, whose glowing script offers many witty observations on love and relationships not dissimilar to the ones that Ephron so frequently displayed in her 29-year career as a screenwriter. Thanks to its cast, comparisons to “Bridesmaids” are sadly almost unavoidable: “Friends with Kids” isn’t the laugh-out-loud riot that Paul Feig’s film so successfully was, and deliberately so. While in the end it chickens out and sheepishly adheres to the rom-com mould, it’s knowingly smart and generally amusing, and in some ways a little more sophisticated than Feig’s comedy behemoth.
6/10
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