“Are you going to ask me what I was wearing next?”
Ally Pankiw’s I Used To Be Funny made it to my top four on Letterboxd within the first twenty minutes of watching, and by the end I found myself unable to do anything except stare at the dust which has collected in the corner of my bedroom. Made in 2023, this film is beautifully modern and queer, paying an homage to previous films alike which broke societal norms without regret. Throughout the one hundred and six minutes of Pankiw’s I Used To Be Funny, I slowly came to the realization that there is truly nothing Rachel Sennott can not do.
Sennott plays Sam, a professional maneater and stand up comedian in the heart of Toronto. Her story has an obvious dividing line in which the viewer is paralleled between. She went from performing live in comedy clubs, carelessly calling for a “Volkswagen level recall on men,” to barely being able to leave bed to shower.
It is obvious that something terrible has happened to Sam, but the question is….why is she no longer funny?
It all has to do with Brooke, a preteen girl played by Olga Pesta for whom Sam is an au pair. Brooke’s mother is dying, and neither she nor her father know how to cope with it all. They are mourning her before she has even passed away. It surrounds the viewer with a feeling of grief for a character in which they have never met.
Pesta’s performance is nothing compared to Sennott’s, but her character’s story alone managed to make me literally absorb her pain.
Brooke’s mother eventually does pass away, causing an obvious shift in the mood of Pankiw’s film. Brooke’s father, Cameron, played by Jason Jones, begins to hold Sam closer, claiming it is for Brooke’s sake. After nearly an hour of rapture and comedy, things take a turn for the worst when Cameron traumatically sexually assaults Sam one night.
The scene was jarring and nearly made me sick to my stomach. I’d seen other Sennott films such as Bodies, Bodies, Bodies (2022) and Bottoms (2023), but I Used To Be Funny was raw and surely the most multi-layered performance we’ve seen from Sennott yet.
Sam takes Cameron to court for the assault. His lawyer’s tactic is pulling up Sam’s published comedy skits where she speaks about sex with a sultry malice. The lawyer brutally and blatantly blames Sam for leading Cameron on by saying Sam was “asking for it.”
Sam then asks her, “Are you going to ask me what I was wearing next?”
I choked on my popcorn.
Not only does this film defy the normalities of the comedy genre, but it comes with a soundtrack which could be considered emotional terrorism. Phoebe Bridgers needle drops two songs: Smoke Signals (2017) and I Know The End (2020), both of which added a depth to the film which could not have been portrayed another way. MUNA, a known queer band, got two needle drops as well. Adrianne Lenker gets her moment with half return (2020), which is a song encompassing all in which comes with grief and loss.
Seriously, what was the budget for this soundtrack alone?
This all barely even scratches the surface of the complexity of this film, but surely hearing “Phoebe Bridgers” and “Rachel Sennott” is enough to make anyone press play. As someone who is rarely satisfied with the endings of films, this movie was a breath of fresh air. Phoebe Bridgers sings us out as we experience a beautiful full circle moment.
I Used To Be Funny is available for streaming on Netflix, Apple TV, and Amazon Prime Video. It is brilliantly paced, incredibly heart touching, and hilariously packed full of what I’m certain were some of Sennotts best improv jokes. I Used To Be Funny restored my faith in modern film. And, yes, it was directed by a woman.
