Besides, the fault for this sense of dislocation doesn’t lie entirely with McConaughey. It also lies with the screenwriters who were unwilling to commit to their timely set-up. Rather than allowing McConaughey’s character to revel in slacker glory, they provide him a maudlin excuse for his inability to grow up. Every moment the film focuses on it, it undercuts the setup’s inherent comedy. Worse, it still doesn’t go far enough in explaining why Tripp’s content to remain in such a humiliating and limiting circumstance.
But just when the improbability that a catch like Tripp would still live at home threatens to make the entire premise fold, the film cuts to its ace-in-the-hole, Zooey Deschanel.
In both good movies (Elf) and bad movies (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) Deschanel’s unique mix of deadpan sarcasm and lilting innocence elevate her surroundings. Here, she even makes the tired shtick of prickly female stereotype suddenly pouncing on and ravishing geeky male stereotype amusing.
Yes, Failure to Launch retreads some old ground (as all romantic comedies must, by nature). Both people are harboring secrets that jeopardize their newfound attraction. Both have wacky friends who mirror their own courtship, but in much more outlandish ways. But it also takes us on a few detours that present refreshing insight into modern problems. And despite the silliness of the odds, we still cheer when Tripp and Paula overcome them.
Another critic complained that Failure to Launch asks us to suspend too much disbelief for the sake of art. That’s the problem with the high-minded perspective on such movies. They’re not art. They’re just fun.