Andy samberg 2020 movie#

(A stolen plane, a dive-bar dance sequence, an excellent reading of the line “I used to be a bomb guy,” a hand job set to a 10,000 Maniacs song.) It’s just that now there’s a beguiling nihilism driving him, to the extent anything’s driving him at all. It’s still your old buddy Andy, doing distinctly Andy sorts of things. The best sense meaning that this isn’t Samberg making a super ostentatious comedy-to-drama pivot, like, say, Robin Williams in One Hour Photo, or Will Ferrell in Everything Must Go, or Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig in The Skeleton Twins. (Simmons plays a fellow time-non-traveler named Roy whose cuddly-ominous vibe is equal parts Sam Elliott in The Big Lebowski, Sam Elliott in A Star Is Born, and Sam Elliott in Justified.) You won’t feel cheated by Palm Springs, genre-wise, but you will, in the best sense, feel ever so slightly challenged. At one point we find Samberg standing in a giant blue suburban recycling bin, politely asking J.K.

Andy samberg 2020 movie#

(If you don’t know, don’t ask.) What makes this movie work is that it satisfies the criteria inherent in the phrase Andy Samberg rom-com-the silliness, the sweetness, the lewdness, the WTF anarchy-but also pushes far past it, into genuinely unsettling territory. I very much hope it’s a sleeper hit insomuch as a $17.50000069 million Sundance acquisition can be a sleeper hit I hope it’s Hulu’s answer to Netflix’s 365 Days. “I am the antichrist,” says Andy Samberg, pausing to acknowledge an earthquake. I’ll never feel anything again.” Very strange movie, grim but with radiant bursts of whimsy, or maybe it’s the grimness that’s radiant somehow, the amusing, deadpan way that the “Lazy Sunday” guy, the “Dick in the Box” guy, the “Jizz in My Pants” guy informs his love interest that he’s the antichrist. Meaning, Andy Samberg, who comes off as America’s very recently dumped Internet Boyfriend, opens beer cans one-handed and says things like, “I felt everything I’ll ever feel. Meaning, it’s Groundhog Day, except now both prospective lovers are stuck in the loop, and the vibe is way grittier. Meaning, no matter how the day ends-even with, say, their myriad violent deaths-they wake up unscathed and forced to relive the day over and over and over again.

Milioti plays Sarah, the hot mess maid of honor and sister of the bride Nyles and Sarah are stuck in “one of those infinite-time-loop situations that you might have heard about,” as he wearily explains to her. Samberg plays a backstory-free Palm Springs wedding guest named Nyles, who is certainly dressed like the platonic ideal of an Andy Samberg character-Hawaiian shirt, swim trunks over boxer shorts, disheveled handsomeness-but is roughly 20 percent as whimsical, with a beer can non-whimsically attached to his hand roughly 80 percent of the time. (Hollywood decided a while ago to sort of give up and stop trying to make sense of things altogether.) It’s a rom-com. Palm Springs hits Hulu on Friday, its planned theatrical run vaporized, of course, by COVID-19.

“We can’t die,” he explains to his love interest. As Milioti girds herself to swerve into the oncoming truck, he unbuckles his seat belt and leans forward, so as to ensure a quick death. “I’ve done a lot of suicides,” Samberg adds, wearily. The movie’s called Palm Springs in January, Hulu and Neon bought it at Sundance for the record-breaking sum of $17,500,000.69.

How the ‘Palm Springs’ Team Found a New Wrinkle in the Time-Loop Movie ‘Palm Springs’ Will Throw You for a Loop