Obvious Child Review

Grade: B
One-Liner: Oy vey, why do I even watch Girls?

A strong female heroine used to be defined by her ability to make a new life for herself. These days she's defined by her ability to exist and persevere in the shitty life she's found herself in. From Girls' Hannah Horvath to Greta Gerwig's Frances Ha, these anti-heroines have taken on a life of their own, slumming it in New York City with a certain sense of entitlement, sympathetic friends who only fan the flames of their destruction, and little-to-no real life goals.

Enter Obvious Child — Jenny Slate's take on this new trend. Slate's Donna was a rough-around-the-edges leading lady, whose Jewish roots were heavily emphasized to help set her apart from Lena Dunham and Gerwig alike, attempting to tackle the big city, while it pummeled her instead.

Once again, a promising student tossed her impressive college degree (for which she is still paying off the loans) and channeled it into a mediocre life. That included a gig doing minor league stand-up comedy at a seedy bar in Brooklyn where the public restrooms were unisex, and they still let David Cross inside.

Donna is noteworthy for her "tell it like it is" attitude and offensively intense gastrointestinal problems (she farts a lot and likes to talk about it). She pushes it too far one night, causing her boyfriend to dump her for another girl, leading to a predictably bad set of live comedy.

But hark! She meets the kind, naturally comfortable Max (The Office's Jake Lacy) and they have a drunken, ridiculous night together. But alas! She is pregnant and immediately sets about getting an abortion.

Though the plot was missing some complexity, Donna's world was rich with delightfully opinionated, crass characters, who helped alleviate some of the more cliche storylines. Slate truly had her moment in the spotlight, and proved herself to be a promising new talent without showing her boobs once — I'm looking at you, Dunham.

Her honesty and lack of entitlement was refreshing in a budding new genre filled with the "Me Generation" of hipsters, who expect mom and dad to pay for their polaroid cameras and horn-rimmed glasses. Obvious Child may get lumped in with those other "lost female" tales, but it shouldn't be.

Donna is a heroine, who may be down on her luck, but she has her own voice and she's going to use it to get out of whatever crappy situation she may find herself in. And that's to be celebrated.