Baby Mama

Re-treading the ol’ nine month story arc familiar to knocked-up waitresses called Juno and the like, Saturday Night Live alumni Tina Fey and Amy Poehler play off each other beautifully as, respectively, a tightly-wound businesswoman who desperately wants a baby and a white trashy livewire who is prepared to rent out her womb. They’re a sparky pairing – Fey delightfully flustered and Poehler saucer-eyed and manic – trading familiar gags as they try to convince us that this is a satirical look at baby mania and class imbalance. But we’re not fooled. Signs that we’re watching a by-numbers romantic comedy include (a) The inevitable appearance of The Perfect Guy who will affirm, through his mere existence, just what is missing in the life of our heroine (b) The inevitable final act montage, in which everyone mopes around feeling sorry for themselves to the plaintive strains of an acoustic ballad (c) The inevitable appearance of Greg Kinnear. It’s all very affable fluff, but lacks the sharpness that characterises Fey’s own writing. Still, the scene-jacking extended cameo from Steve Martin as a New Age-y wholefoods guru (“I was swimming with the dolphins this morning in Costa Rica...”) is worth the ticket price alone. [Laura Smith]