Towards the end of the new Australian musical The Deb there’s an uplifting song-and-dance sequence to a ditty titled “Pretty Strong”, and that’s an acceptable enough term to describe Rebel Wilson‘s directorial debut. The comedienne makes for a serviceable presence behind the camera as she injects an infectiousness and often-home-grown-specific humour into the proceedings of adapting Megan Washington and Hannah Reilly‘s 2022 musical for the big screen.
Through Washington and Reilly’s lyrics (the former also writing the songs, whilst the latter penned the theatrical book), Wilson opens up The Deb with a Gen Z anthem (“Fuck My Life” will undoubtedly get stuck in your head) that gives us an insight into the perennially online Maeve (Charlotte MacInnes), a private girls school captain and “activist”, who waxes lyrical about her “woe is me” lifestyle out of a Sydney harbour-side mansion. She drives the “I’m a feminist” mantra home real strong as she chastises those whose views oppose hers, but refuses to take responsibility for any of her own actions, and when she quite literally exposes herself in what she deems a protest surrounding her school uniform and its intention to cover her up, she’s shipped off to the country town of Dunburn 6 hours away (8 by bus) by a fed-up mother who hopes a little grounding will help Maeve see the error of her ways.
With limited mobile service, Maeve is behind the count when she discovers that her supposed school chums have turned on her in the wake of her suspension (Hashtag Cancel Pig), and, being the self-proclaimed “feminist voice of her generation” that she is, she takes it upon herself to make the begrudging best of a bad situation by befriending Taylah (Natalie Abbott), her estranged cousin, who couldn’t be further from Maeve’s aesthetic; the film quickly establishing the tried-and-true dynamic of the popular girl-meets-frumpy outsider narrative. Whilst the opposing personalities of the superficial Maeve and the humble Taylah make way for many expected story beats, The Deb also subverts certain expectations regarding character interactions, so just when we think Maeve is going to grow even more insufferable as she lightly takes a few verbal jabs at Taylah’s obvious lack of awareness, she’s just as quick to stand up for her cousin when the trio of Dunburn bullies “The Pixie Cups” – Annabelle (Stevie Jean), Daniele (Brianna Bishop) and Chantelle (Karis Oaka) – make themselves known as Taylah’s emotional torturers.
The deb of the title is that of the debutante ball that Dunburn takes an awful lot of pride in. The city is a stickler for tradition, and Taylah believes that such an act as being “formally introduced” into society will right whatever social wrongs have come upon her. A lot of this plot is telegraphed, but there’s so much joy surrounding such that we don’t really mind being taken on a ride in which the destination is predetermined. Whilst at 121 minutes the film is perhaps a bit too long – you can see the stage show beats at play – and there’s an occasional cycle-rinse-repeat mentality to it all, MacInnes and Abbott are so glorious on screen that we revel in their performative nature. Maeve isn’t always written in the greatest of brush strokes – just when we think she’s taken a step forward, she peddles two steps back – but MacInnes sells it with a level of sincerity that we readily accept. Far easier to digest is Abbott’s Taylah, who rises above the character’s could-be-too-saccharine nature to form a wholly rounded personality. We barrack for Taylah, and when Maeve is genuinely in her corner, The Deb is all the better for it.
Ironically, what is perhaps The Deb‘s biggest weakness is Wilson herself. Whilst there’s competence expressed as a director, her performance as Annabelle’s morally bankrupt stage mum in the film leans into a more stereotypical archetype that doesn’t seem too far removed from the ilk of Fat Pizza, and though she does occasionally illicit a good laugh out of certain lines or a visual gag (her beauty salon is called Curl Up ‘n Dye) she’s trying too hard in a movie that’s already so heightened that it needs a layer of sincerity to land more cohesively.
That being said, the film’s Australia-fied temperament of its Hairspray-meets-Mean Girls ’24 blend means it has a certain level of audience confidence off the bat. It has a welcome message amongst the predominant pop stylings of its soundtrack, and though it mostly has the air of a family friendly viewing, the very Australian inclusion of the C-bomb guarantees this won’t be marking a PG classification come its general release; though, as stated at the TIFF screening by Wilson in attendance, this was the uncut version and perhaps a sanitised edit will be in place come theatrical season. But for a movie that’s about beating to your own drum, it seems only right it refuse to compromise on such a cut, and hopefully The Deb will arrive in all its lightly profane glory.
With a strong ensemble cast in tow (Shane Jacobson and Tara Morice provide lovely work as Taylah’s dad and the town’s seamstress, respectively), The Deb is a delightful musical production that, whilst not without its faults and familiarities, wins over with its heart in the right place.
THREE STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
The Deb screened as part of this year’s Toronto International Film Festival, which ran between September 5th and 15th, 2024. For more information about the festival, head to the official site here.
