On any other week of the year, a new Tina Fey-Amy Poehler pairing would be all anyone was talking about. While Sisters
exists as smart counter-programming, most critics saved their careful consideration and overwrought sentences for a certain space opera reboot, dismissing this comedy outright. A mistake. The Poehler-Fey duo is a glorious thing, a perfect platonic coupling that never panders even when it’s aiming low, as it does here with a Big Party Movie (But For The Middle Aged). They’re clearly comfortable together, on each other’s wavelength, familiar and trusting. Any other week and there’d be a half-dozen Women In Comedy think-pieces comparing Sisters
and Broad City
. Alas. Here they switch their Baby Mama
roles—Fey is the trashy idiot Kate, Poehler the uptight and considerate Maura. When their parents (Dianne Wiest, wonderful; James Brolin, overdoing it) sell their Orlando home, they return for one last bash. This movie is less a Golden Globes host gig than it is two stars just doing what they want, and even then they don’t abuse it like Apatow’s people would. A loose two hours, Sisters is not about anything large or important, it’s just a hilarious film about the bonds of women who take care of their own lives despite copious outside pressures; just some little stuff like that.