Since the rise of the independent comedy, “quirky” has become both the genre’s golden standard for success and a dirty word. When a film has little else to show for itself, it pours on the quirk: characters spout obscure pop culture references ad nauseum, every character has a ridiculous affectation, and even the plot seems sarcastically conceived. Sadly, this strategy seems to have become the blueprint for 90% of the independent comedies that find distribution. This might explain why Dirty Girl feels remarkably fresh and yet so familiar. There are a few broad archetypes thrown in, and a few quirky relationships, but for the most part Dirty Girl completely lacks in pop culture overload and instead relies on a potty-mouthed teenager and her gay class project partner’s chemistry as they ride cross country; it’s not a voyage of self-discovery but one of escape.
The recent decision of Sue-Ann (Milla Jovovich) to shack up with her Mormon beau Ray (William H. Macy) doesn’t sit well with Danielle (Juno Temple), and after she shoots her mouth off, they leave her behind for the weekend with no means of transportation or food. This forces her to lean on Clarke (Jeremy Dozier), her partner in a class project where they treat a bag of flour as their child, and who happens to be a gay teen trying desperately to convince his parents that he likes girls, and not men as the pictures taped above his bed have led them to suspect. Their equally dissatisfying family situations set them off on a trip to California where they have it on good authority that Danielle’s father is now living with his new wife and family. To get there, they take one of Clarke’s parents’ cars and pick up the occasional hitchhiker to pay for gas. Back on the homefront, both Danielle and Clarke’s parents have become hysterical with a combination of rage and worry at their children, and they set off to retrieve them in a vendetta of discipline.
Juno Temple keeps Dirty Girl from descending into yet another clichéd indie comedy, and without her Danielle could just have easily been a caricature of a troubled teen instead of the rebellious nymph who drives the story forward. There’s a fine line separating the relationship between Danielle and Clarke from the all too common independent girl and her sassy but insecure gay male friend. True, Dozier does play his role far closer to insecure than any other direction, but if Temple hadn’t played Danielle with such overwhelming ferocity, the hints of “stereotypical” bitchiness that occasionally shines through in Dozier’s performance could have potentially surfaced even more, and that’s not what the character of Clarke needed. Temple’s presence kept the primary arc in perfect harmony, unfortunately a third of the film was entirely out of her hands.
The subtler and more subversive comedy of Danielle and Clarke is broken up by scenes of Clarke’s father (Dwight Yoakam) coming unhinged as his own insecurity bursts out of the closet and he storms about town frantically trying to find his son. Why does he want to find his son? So he can wallop the gay right out of him. Played correctly, these scenes could have been darkly humorous for the man’s ignorance, but instead he becomes nothing but a caricature whose laughs are too broad an angle of slapstick to keep pace with the rest of the film. On the other hand you have William H. Macy’s brief but fantastic cameo as the milquetoast Mormon whose plan to show his would-be daughter the back of his hand with a punishment that goes far awry. Macy, unlike Yoakam, doesn’t go overboard and instead lets the absurdity of an older man with such tame mannerisms butting heads with a foul-mouthed teenager play out naturally. He’s sublime and painfully absent for too much of the film.
DVD Bonus Features
A feature commentary with Writer/Director Abe Sylvia and a small collection of deleted and extended scenes are the only extras.
"Dirty Girl" is on sale January 17, 2012 and is rated R. Comedy, Drama. Written and directed by Abe Sylvia. Starring Dwight Yoakam, Juno Temple, Milla Jovovich, William H Macy, Jeremy Dozier.
