Knocked Up: Finally, a comedy that delivers

We've been following comments made by critics, stars, and peers alike recently regarding the highly-anticipated comedy Knocked Up and its potentially homophobic humor. Nothing makes me more upset than hearing that a promising project from a group of artists that I respect might be marred by needless homophobia, misogyny, racism, etc. -- it's like that sinking feeling you get when your favorite uncle opens his mouth at Christmas and says something completely unacceptable about "the Jews" or "the blacks" or "the gays" and you know you'll never be able to remember him as fondly again.

Given how much I loved Knocked Up creator Judd Apatow's The 40-Year-Old Virgin and criminally short-lived Freaks and Geeks, I was doubly apprehensive that his latest film (which was already rumored to be a guaranteed smash) might be held up by potentially hateful attitudes. And the starring presence of Katherine Heigl (who vocally defended her friend T. R. Knight from this very kind of abuse) made things even more complicated, particularly when I read of her discomfort over some of the language used in the film. Was this going to be another 300, where my enjoyment of a popcorn movie was needlessly smacked out of my hands by some careless fratboy humor?

Thankfully, no. I caught the film earlier this week and I'm thrilled to say that I enjoyed it more than any comedy since ... well, since The 40-Year-Old Virgin. Knocked Up is of a rare breed: a film that manages to be uncommonly thoughtful and sensitive to the complexity of its very faulted characters while still being relentlessly, brilliantly funny. Seth Rogen, as Ben, the esteem-challenged stoner who accidentally impregnates a girl far out of his league, delivers an egoless comedic leading performance that places him squarely in the realm of Ferrell and Carell. Heigl, as the considerably more high-strung Alison (an E! reporter who gets pregnant just as her career is taking off), is rounded (no pun intended), deservedly demanding, and lovable even when her raging hormones get the better of her (tip to future filmmakers: if you want to demonize a character, make them be an ass to nice-guy Steve Carell. Instant bitch.).

But the supporting players almost pluck the film out of the well-intentioned leads' hands and walk away with it. As Alison's mercilessly sever sister Debbie, Leslie Mann (who happens to be Apatow's wife) turns in one of the most iconic comedy performances of recent memory: give this woman her nominations right now. Debbie is frustrated, aggressive, and increasingly poisonous, and simultaneously hilarious and horrifying to watch (more on that later).

On the receiving end of Debbie's psycho is her husband Pete (the ever-adorable Paul Rudd), who has long since given up standing up to his wife. Pete latches on to Ben when he enters the picture, and soon enough the two couples are played out as sort of a "before" and "after" of what can happen to a relationship when it becomes complicated with children. Luckily, it's not all heaviness and angst (although there's plenty of it in there), and a parade of hilarious cameos (Ryan Seacrest's breakdown is priceless, as are Steve Carell and James Franco's appearances as themselves) and supporting turns (SNL's Kristin Wiig and Bill Hader are great, as is out actor Tim Bagley as a goofy gyno) keep things moving.

Now: about that f-bomb. The word fag is used, and it's making a lot of people uncomfortable. It made me a little uncomfortable myself, and the dead silence that followed it in the audience implied that it wasn't taken lightly by them, either. And while I'm not a fan of the word and its being used in entertainment, I do believe that the context in which it is used has to be considered.

In this case, Debbie throws the word at a bouncer at the end of an acid-filled rant when he won't let her into a club. The guy isn't gay (so the word isn't directed at an actual homosexual, but is clearly being used as a petty, last-ditch insult) and the character who uses the word is hitting absolute hysterical rock-bottom in this scene (shortly after she'll refer to her babysitter as a "high school c*nt"), as is made clear by Alison's shell-shocked expression as the scene plays out. The context and the vitriol behind it really make it kind of an "Ann Coulter moment" ... if Coulter had a soul and a human face.

In short, we are not supposed to think that her use of the word is a good thing -- if anything, it's being used as a sign that her character has crossed a line (further evidenced when the bouncer immediately pulls her aside after the word is used and shuts her down completely). Again, I don't like the word. But in this case it was used as a word that was supposed to be offensive, not as something to be encouraged. So while it made me moderately uncomfortable, again -- it was supposed to, and I didn't feel particularly offended or singled out by it as a gay man sitting in the audience. Would I have preferred it not be there? Of course. But given the context I'm not moved to run Apatow out of town with torches.

In fact, the film otherwise is as gay-friendly as a film with no gay characters can really be (and considering that it's about childbirth and given the characters and their lives, it's doesn't feel terribly exclusive that there aren't gay characters). Ben's stoner friends are actually quite comfortable with each other, even simulating sex with one another at one point without the usual accompanying gay panic. It is a shame that the Brokeback Mountain scene didn't make the final cut (although the film is pretty long as it is), as that would have done a lot to soothe the nerves of those who were more disturbed by the f-bomb than I was.

Overall, you're not going to find a more uproarious and touching comedy this summer, or a more well-considered and beautifully realized film about romantic anxiety. I enjoyed it start to finish and couldn't wait to recommend it to friends -- which is saying something in a year that has thus far been peppered with disappointments.