I Feel Pretty is pretty much the worst movie of the year

This Amy Schumer-led comedy touts a message of positivity that’s meant to appease a certain demographic while making everyone else hate themselves.

The definition of madness is doing the same thing and expecting a different result. At a certain point in the new Amy Schumer comedy, I Feel Pretty, the audience is subjected to Schumer consecutively running into a wall in the hopes that if you didn’t laugh the first two times, darnit you’ll laugh the third. This sums up the entirety of I Feel Pretty, whose message of body acceptance is as narrow as the skinny women it abhors while simultaneously praying you’ll fall in love with its mix of unfunny slapstick, occasional juvenile humor and Amy Schumer’s constant reminder of how “unattractive” she is. Come for the Schumer, stay for the message that you can be confident… and that black women only work at Soul Cycle.

Renee Bennett (Schumer) is an “average” woman fed up with society’s emphasis on physical appearance. When she hits her head she wakes up with the belief that she’s been transformed into an utterly beautiful woman. As she showcases her newfound confidence it causes her to rise up the ranks, but will it also mean she’ll lose what makes her unique?

In 2013 comedian Amy Schumer’s Comedy Central series, Inside Amy Schumer, premiered and bluntly sent up everything from rape culture to men’s ill-defined ideas of what a “natural” appearance is. She translated that success into a film career with 2015’s Trainwreck, a semi-autobiographical feature that situated Schumer as a new take on the modern woman. But many questioned whether Schumer could play anyone but herself, and I Feel Pretty answers the question: no.

This film shows a complete 360 from the woman Schumer played in Trainwreck, though. Gone is the confident, sexually open woman who understands she isn’t a model but is cool enough, and in its place is a woman who believes she’s so grotesque that babies cry in her presence and salesclerks can’t hide their contempt for how fat and unattractive she is. This mentality isn’t just limited to Schumer, but to all women, including her sweet friends played by Aidy Bryant (the woman who should be this film’s lead) and Busy Phillips rocking “unattractive” brown hair and a mottled spray tan.

Drectors and screenwriters Abby Kohn and Marc Silverstein live in an alternate universe where anyone who is less than a size two is vapid and ditzy — but still really sweet if you actually talk to them for 10 seconds. Anyone heavier than that should just walk around with a sign saying “loser.” Renee and her friends put up a profile on a dating site only to have a buzzer literally go off to illustrate how no one’s looked at it. Renee and her co-worker, a schlub who we have to hear go to the bathroom at one point, work in an actual basement just to remind you how unappealing they are. Apparently, this version of New York puts people into two categories: lovely and amazing, and everyone else.

Renee’s head injury — which bleeds so freely you’ll assume she has a clotting disorder — leaves her waking up with the belief she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. This conceit, a mish-mash/role reversal of the plot from the equally problematic 2001 comedy Shallow Hal, is rife with holes. The audience never sees Schumer as she sees herself, so characters around her act disgusted and horrified at her delusions. The audience is, in turn, meant to laugh at someone with either a serious head injury at best or mental illness at worst, and none of the characters think to question this.

Renee’s continued belief that she’s beautiful leads to scenes where characters have to question whether she’s deranged. At one point her boyfriend (played blandly by Rory Scoval) believes the two are role-playing as if they don’t know each other and barely bats an eye to a phone call 30 seconds later from Renee acting like they didn’t just have a conversation. Had the movie attempted to have one of her friends say, “What’s wrong with you,” it might have helped sell Renee’s belief, but the entire thing comes off as if they refuse to tell her she’s having a psychotic break.

The worst part of the film is its entire plot revolves around Renee’s presumed unattractive face. Schumer has sold herself as a “butter face,” yet her comedy is about acknowledging and rising above. As Renee walks around with a smile, seemingly never questioning why her clothes are the same size despite her supposedly “toned” body, the film reeks of white privilege.

Renee decides that because of her enhanced appearance, she’ll apply for a receptionist position at Lilly LeClaire, a cosmetics company run by Avery LeClaire (Michelle Williams). And in the great history of failing upwards, Renee’s basic business sense is perceived as revolutionary and unique. Wonder how they would have responded if one of those Soul Cycle women had an idea about using “average” women in a marketing campaign?

Some of the film’s issues might have been mitigated had the acting done anything to paper over the script’s flaws. Amy Schumer can’t find a character who isn’t “Amy Schumer.” Absolutely nothing sounds convincing coming out of her mouth, whether she’s talking about “strategy meetings” or naming one of Lily LeClaire’s generic-sounding lipsticks. When Schumer is required to emote, the entire ordeal — and it is an ordeal — sounds like a strangled cat scrunching up its face hoping water drops from its eyes. The only other character of significance is Williams’ daffy Lina Lamont-esque Avery, whose dead-eyed, glazed expression leaves you questioning whether the actress is planning how quickly she can fire her agent. Phillips and Bryant are stock shut-in friends, and both of Schumer’s love interests — the aforementioned Scovel and Tom Hopper’s wealthy hunk — are simply there to emphasize how Schumer can cater to both average Joes and Tom Brady wannabes. You see, ladies, she’s so average every guy wants to get with her! (Note, this script also sees sexual objectification as endearing, so there’s that.)

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I Feel Pretty is so terrible you’ll actually enjoy the Jason DeRulo song that plays as Renee participates in a bikini contest as men gasp in shock. Schumer’s second feature where she plays a character — the other being the equally horrific Snatched from last year — continues to show her as an actress of diminishing returns, if there were ever returns before. The film’s message is “All About That Bass” expanded to nearly 120 minutes. I Feel Pretty will only leave you feeling pretty terrible.