‘Late Night’ is an accomplished comedy more or less commercial and helpful, more or less conventional and superficial. A successful comedy that, within what could be a not so successful comedy, is easily visible; The same with which possibly end up falling into that forgetfulness from which from time to time others also come out – depending on who you speak with – not as good or as bad comedies as ‘Love with notice’ or ‘The proposition’, for putting two titles that They are particularly sympathetic to my memory when life puts them ahead of me again.
Almost, what more can a film of this style aspire to. Comedy is actually a genre that, at least when endorsed by an industry like the North American, always seems to be assembled in the same way as one of those modular houses made of plasterboard. An artifice built around a premise whose potential, often reduced to opportunistic and opportunistic snippets, rarely serves a true story. Something like bread for today, hunger for tomorrow. Comfortable, simple, practical, easy. Without complications.
Within that, of what may well be a comedy to hang out, ‘Late Night’ is worth as much as those 90 entertaining and friendly minutes it provides. No surprises or boasts of any kind, with nothing to object to. For everything else, the knowledge of Emma Thompson and a successful team of secondary with which to fill in the gaps. Let it be like throwing the stone and hiding the hand; Let it be as a summary of what would have been much better as a serial that could exploit everything that hardly gives you time to mention in passing …
… it is another story. In fact, it would already be like telling a story, and that would mean complicating life beyond those 90 entertaining, friendly and above all harmless minutes that do not call into question the good conscience of the mid-western viewer. Smile, after all, the world can be such a condescending and faint-hearted place, even for Emma Thompson.
By Juan Pairet Iglesias