In the period since Blake Lively has graduated from her millennial Carrie Bradshaw role (sorry Lena Dunham) as Serena Van Der Woodsen, her film choices have been both reckless and carefully curated. Setting the tone for wanting to be something of an “edgier” Serena (one that actually talked back, swore and freely did drugs–as opposed to concealing the fact in shame or being pumped full of them by a diabolical faux socialite pretending to be her long lost cousin), the first movie to serve as her transition away from Gossip Girl when it ended in 2012 was the gritty Oliver Stone “drug movie,” Savages. As a sort of female polygamist living yet another rich girl’s life in Laguna Beach, her part as the Ophelia “O” Sage is the benchmark for her latest portrayal as Emily Nelson in A Simple Favor in terms of her disappearance affecting a love triangle.
As a deadbeat and disinterested suburban mother marooned in Connecticut, Emily is Serena after the New York years. She’s even married to a former novelist who has only written one book (Dan Humphrey much?) that she once thought would turn out to be, at the very least, the next great American author. Her new and unexpected fellow mother friend (and resident “brotherfucker”–you’ll get it when you see the movie), Stephanie Smothers (Anna Kendrick, consistently perfect for playing a high-strung, smothering presence), however, likens his only book to William Thackeray’s Vanity Fair, much to his delight and Emily’s disgust.
In fact, the only thing she resents and despises more than Henry (Sean Townsend) is bullshit. Which is what constitutes most of the interaction with anyone or anything to do with her son Nicky’s (Ian Ho) school. With the direction of Paul Feig and the writing of Jessica Sharzer (known for The L Word and American Horror Story teleplays), the darkly comedic nature of what it is to be a free spirit saddled with a child shines through in such exchanges as her son commenting, “You never let me do anything,” and Emily retorting, “I let you tear up my labia and ruin my body.” When said in front of most people, it scandalizes, but in front of Stephanie, ironically the most prim of all, it’s accepted with a sort of shocked yet appreciative reverence for her frankness. While other parents, including the snarky Darren (Andrew Rannells)–gay single dad and all–assume that Stephanie, known for her June Cleaver-esque vlog, will be eaten alive by Emily’s particular brand of candor, it turns out that the two quickly establish a strange affinity, which is, of course, largely established by their mutual crippling loneliness, masked in different but overt ways.
The following day, when Stephanie releases the latest edition of her vlog, the theme, somewhat creepily, is friendship bracelets. Teaching her many thousands of subscribers how to make one, she gives her own to Emily, who one imagines is inwardly pulling a Regina George as she tells her how great it is but not so secretly wants to vomit over its hideousness. Seeing something useful and latently dark within Stephanie that she can perhaps wield to her own advantage, Emily soon starts frequently asking her to pick Nicky up from school as she does the same for her own son, Miles (Joshua Satine). Henry, himself preoccupied with teaching, seems to have no problem with Stephanie’s sudden infiltration into their day-to-day existence, jetting off to London to tend to his mother right when Emily also chooses to disappear altogether. It’s after two days of hearing nothing that Stephanie, the Blair Waldorf of the situation in terms of being abruptly abandoned by her best friend, decides to take action and call the police.
Although Henry returns immediately, he also exhibits a certain nonplussed aura, explaining to Stephanie, “She’s an enigma my wife. You can get close to her, but you never quite reach her. She’s like a, beautiful ghost.” So, too, was Serena, seeming to attract everyone on the Upper East Side and beyond as a result of her arcane nature. It is precisely these types of characters that Lively has proven herself most comfortable playing, The Age of Adaline (which many people seem to have forgotten Lana Del Rey contributed a song to) being yet another prime example of one of her screen versions needing to keep her persona just bland enough to remain forgettable, yet mysterious enough to be interesting to the point of strange obsession. And this is the very essence of Lively herself: boring yet inexplicably entrancing. A Kate Hudson 2.0, if you will.
Even so, it’s apparent Lively has evolved at least somewhat from her Serena Van Der Woodsen iteration. For the mopey reigning blonde of New York’s upper crust would never demand, “Stop saying you’re sorry. It’s something women do too often.” And yes, even Serena was a victim of this phenomenon when she found herself being deemed too “out of line” by polite society, constantly trying to amend her behavior to fit into a certain mold for the likes of every guy she conned with what Clementine Kruczynski would call “a concept” of herself. While Emily does just the same, she benefits much more from the dangerous game she’s playing. Well, that is, until she meets her match in the aforementioned Blair Waldorf of this film’s scenario.
