How delicious, in this era of franchise bloat and less-than-simple sequels, to be handed a second helping that leaves you sated rather than queasy. If Paul Feig's Another Simple Favor is a cocktail, it's one shaken with a confidence, a dash of vermouth and a twist of lemon, sipped poolside in Capri while the bodies float by (sometimes literally, sometimes, more enjoyably, in spirit). Rarely does a film invite the audience to marvel at its gorgeous surface and still let them dive, giggling, into its undertow. Here, we have that rare, effervescent tonic: a thriller that dresses up as a comedy, or the other way 'round; a parade of “thrills” that remembers to be, above all, fun.
That word, “fun,” is not to be taken lightly. In a genre littered with plodding anti-heroines and the musty scent of “twists” so foreshadowed they might as well be weather reports, it’s a relief to chase after a film as it runs, silk scarves trailing. Anna Kendrick and Blake Lively, let us just say it, are dazzling. Their interplay has only gotten sharper with age and script revision: the kind of screen partnership that draws you back for the sheer pleasure of watching faces register calculation and betrayal with equal parts twinkle and chill. One feels, in their scenes, the fizz of old screwball duos, just with sharper weapons and higher heels.
The plot, supposedly the meal but really the excuse for another round of costume changes, is an overwrought confection of crime, double-cross, and mistaken identity, the sort of story that’s almost proud of its convolutions (“Did you really think it was that simple?” a character seems to whisper every fifteen minutes), yet, like the best capers, manages to never collapse under its own champagne bubbles. You may guess the villain, honestly, you probably will, but that doesn't diminish the delight; there’s a pleasure in watching a filmmaker lay out revelations with the precision of a croupier flicking cards. The murders, the mobsters, and even the triplets (because of course there are triplets) find their proper, if improbable, places on Paul Feig's highly lacquered chessboard.
Is it a better film than the original? This is the rare occasion where the answer feels unforced, yes. Where the 2018 entry sometimes mistook snark for substance and couldn’t quite commit to its own nastiness, the sequel calmly sashays past those qualms, wrapping moral ambiguity in drapery and Capri sun. There’s a confidence here, a willingness to let the comedy and thriller coils wind themselves together without apology. Even the “bitchy” humor, which in so many hands feels leaden, sparkles under Feig’s direction and the cast’s razor edges.
About the setting and design, let’s pause for some well-earned worship. The saturated blues and salty golds of Capri; that wedding, pinwheeled pink, with Kendrick looking like an off-duty Hitchcock victim who just survived another plot. Feig’s camera gets drunk on vistas, before sobering up neatly for a round of subterfuge or a flight from the law. The whole picture has the grace to never take itself too seriously, it’s a vacation from dour franchise gloom, and wouldn’t you rather be in Italy with these felons anyway?
If there’s a flaw, it’s the one you consent to: plausibility packs a small bag and leaves early. But thrillers of this sort are operettas, you don’t go to Die Fledermaus for realism, and you shouldn’t go to Another Simple Favor for a treatise on criminal justice or motherhood. You go for the shimmering surfaces, and the slightly wicked sense that the real crime is being dull.
Kendrick and Lively remain the engine, their beauty, of course, but more so their commitment to the singular reality of this universe where everyone is a little smarter, and a little meaner, than you’d like them to be. Their chemistry (really, a kind of one-upmanship dressed as affection) gets at something true: friendship, especially among women written by writers who have watched a few too many noirs, is always a game with shifting rules.
Here, then, is a sequel that manages the conjurer’s trick of being both clever and pleasurable: you know there’s a trapdoor, yet you enjoy falling through it. Another Simple Favor is a caper content to be caperous, a fashion show in which betrayal never goes out of style. Easy to watch? Yes, and in a market glutted with films that mistake struggle for meaning, that is simple, and that is welcome.
How often does a film make you grateful just to be along for the ride, guessing, grinning, and basking in its glow? Not often enough. But, with this favor, here we are.
