THE LITTLE HOURS Review

Release Date: June 30, 2017
Director: Jeff Baena
MPAA Rating: R
Runtime: 90 Minutes

In his third feature film (following Life After Beth and Joshy) Jeff Baena has set his sights on tearing 14th-century Italy a new one in a riotously funny adaptation of Giovanni Boccaccio’s The Decameron with The Little Hours.

The original book, published in 1353, is a collection of 100 novellas framed as 100 tales told by seven individuals passing the time while hiding out in a secluded villa escaping the Black Death. Boccaccio retold centuries old stories by retelling them using modern vernacular, and that’s exactly what Baena does here, to great comic effect.

The film stars Alison Brie, Aubrey Plaza and Kate Micucci as three nuns living in a small countryside convent, sheltered from the rest of the world. Under the supervision of Father Tommasso, played by John C. Reilly, and their Mother Superior (Molly Shannon), the women go about their day washing linens, gossiping and mouthing off to an unfortunate farmhand who shouldn’t dare look them in the eye.

After taking in a young servant (Dave Franco) who is on the run from his master (Nick Offerman) for sleeping with his wife, the nuns become infatuated with him, and their dedication to their lord is put to the test. Franco, meanwhile, is instructed to act as a deaf-mute as to not provoke the girls, of course this just entices them more, allowing them to say what they please around him thinking he can’t hear or respond.

A film such as this could easily be written off as a one-note farce, playing up the vulgar nun schtick like an SNL skit, and while it does at times feel like a sketch, especially when you have SNL alums Molly Shannon and Fred Armisen in the mix, the stacked amount of comedic talent at play easily elevates it above just a bunch of nuns saying “fuck.”

Each character plays to the comedic strengths of the actor: Plaza is a stone-cold witch; Micucci is a mousy goodie goodie with a crazy streak; John C. Reilly is John C. Reilly; Dave Franco is the straight man, reacting to the ridiculous situation he finds himself in. It all fits and it all works to a hilariously entertaining degree.

Though the narrative itself is rather thin, The Little Hours doesn’t shy away from satire, gleefully poking fun at religion without outright condemning it. The members of the convent fancy themselves closer to God than anyone else yet indulge in fornication, lying, blasphemy and blood eating, and that’s just a start.

The Little Hours is a bright spot in a year that’s been overwhelmingly lackluster in the comedy department and is one that I can’t wait to revisit and quote with my friends. Through its stellar cast and unique setting, this is not one to miss.