“We did it you guys. We stopped time.” So marvels Kelly (Rachel Dratch), a former high school classmate of illustrious Ellis sisters Kate (Tina Fey) and Maura (Amy Poehler). And while she might be one of the more overtly existential party attendees attempting to re-create the spark of her youth, she is the most representative of what it means to chase down old glory days. For that is, by and large, what the entire premise of Sisters is predicated on–though the title might have you believe it would put emphasis on the often times fraught dynamic that can occur between two sisters (which yes, the film covers as well, but to a lesser extent than making the most of one’s mortality).
Already commencing in a fashion that connotes arrested development, Maura is gently informed by her parents, Deana (Dianne Wiest) and Bucky (James Brolin), over Skype that they’re “thinking about” selling the house. Wounded by the news, Maura offers to help them pay for the mortgage, but her parents rebuff the offer, saying the house is too big and they just want her and Kate to clean out their room–yes, a shared space with, inexplicably, two separate doors leading to the same shared space.
Giving us a snapshot of Kate’s “hotheaded” tendencies from the get-go, Deana and Bucky ask Maura to inform her of the potential sale so that they don’t have to deal with the reaction. Maura, accustomed to being the responsible one despite being the younger sister, reluctantly agrees. And soon, we see the reason why Kate has trouble holding down a regular job as she works out of a friend’s apartment to dye a middle-aged man’s hair and eyebrows. It is during this exchange that we get the sense of how in denial Kate is about her own age as her client, Phil (Chris Parnell), explains that he’s feeling self-conscious, aesthetically speaking, because he’s going on a date with a younger woman that night. Kate bros it up with the comment, “Ladies your age are gross, right?” Whether it’s a sarcastic remark designed to make him feel bad about himself or aimed at her own desire to make herself feel out of the same age bracket, the deflection is obvious. And in her interactions with Maura, Kate’s insecurities become all the more clear as she insists upon Maura rebounding after her divorce by warning, “You’re gonna dry up like a granny apple doll.”
Seeing the opportunity to have one last party–one of their epics, called Ellis Island Revamped–Kate also views it as a chance for Maura to hit on the single next door neighbor, a carpenter type named James (Ike Barinholtz), somewhat equally as damaged as a result of losing both of his parents in the same year, in addition to losing a mass amount of weight.
Though it takes some light convincing to make Maura see that she deserves her night of fun at the Ellis house while she can still have it (so accustomed was she to playing the “mother” role by taking care of everyone who let their freak flag fly in the past), all Kate has to say is, “Fine let’s just brush our remaining teeth and call it a sad, hard day for two dusty old twats–’cause we’re done,” for Maura to consent.
After purchasing their party favors from Big Lots–and having an uncomfortable run-in with Kate’s nemesis, Brinda (Maya Rudolph), who they didn’t invite–Fey revisits another familiar theme of her career: nail salon workers who are oppressed. Though the script is written by Paula Pell (another SNL and 30 Rock writer’s room alum), this thread smacks of Fey, who repurposes it in season four, part one of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt as something of a means to shed some white guilt. That being said, Maura concernedly asks the Korean woman doing her toes, “Is Vicki your real name? What’s your Korean name?” “Vicki” discreetly looks over her shoulder to see if the manager is looking and quietly replies, “Hae-Won.” But hey, it’s fine, Kate is a licensed cosmetologist too, hence asking for a job there only to be discriminated against because she’s white and will probably require too much money to work. Rejection from jobs is just par for Kate’s course, however. Except this time, it doesn’t roll quite so easily off her back as she’s managed to drive her teenage daughter, Haley (Madison Davenport), away, making her so mistrustful of her mother’s ability to raise her that she insists on “staying with friends” to avoid playing the maternal role to her own matriarch. And without a daughter constantly around to remind her of her age, Kate seems to still revel in the same freedom she had as an unanchored youth.
But when faced with the actual party guests she once enjoyed drinking and drugging with in high school, she must admit, “Adult parties suck.” As Kelly puts it, “When did we all get so old? I mean at least the women are making an effort but the men here look like they’re being slowly poisoned.” Maura, trying to find the silver lining, says, “I think it’s about how you feel right?” Kelly balks, “Done. Best days behind us.” Kate won’t back down, rallying them all to remember their inner youth and instead of partying like there’s no tomorrow, to party as though they might literally die tonight–from old age, yes. Because, in American society, being in your forties is called “crypt-keeper” (even though Madonna put out Ray of Light at forty).
With Kate in the promised mom designation, she flits about checking on who might need her for emotional support. In a room full of clocks, a progressively drunker Kelly tells Kate, “The other day I saw this old lady looking at me through a window on the street and I felt bad for her, you know? I waved at her and then she waved back at me and then I realized…that was just my reflection. It was just me and my old beef jerky face. Why does time do that to faces?”
Thus, it’s only natural that Kelly should be the one to declare that they’ve all stopped time as the car Kate left running (in her eventual post-succumbing to debauchery state) crashes into a tree that topples onto the house and shatters one of the clocks in the aforementioned clock room.
But the stoppage of time is not something that Kate and Maura’s parents can continue to be “a party” to as Deana screams upon showing up to the house with her husband and granddaughter, “We keep trying to pass you the baton, you won’t take it. Take it!” and Bucky confirms, “Yes, take the fucking baton!” And this, only after a sinkhole has opened up in their yard. So maybe it does take some regressing to come to terms with middle age. To say goodbye to that part of yourself that was allowed to be a fuck-up without consequence. To have that revelation: “Forever 21 became Suddenly 42.”
