(Written by Intern, Shaun E)
Much like a frozen dessert comes with sprinkles on top, Drugstore June is chock full of stand-up talents. Writer Esther Povitsky also stars as the titular character, a persistent archetype of an influencer wanna-be. Social media is inescapable and currently one of the most desirable career paths for younger generations, yet weirdly shoehorned execution diminishes any meaningful commentary. Furthermore, perplexing and undeveloped arcs lend a “nothing burger” feel to the narrative. Flashy style and hearty casting do not a successful comedy make, and the end result ultimately dissatisfies like a melted cone dropped on the sidewalk.
June (Povitsky) is recognizable to those familiar with online culture as another chaser of internet stardom, though without much success. She works the register at a pharmacy with her boss, Bill (Bobby Lee), and lives at home with her oddball parents, Marla (Beverly D’Angelo) and Arnold (James Remar), as well as her video-game playing younger brother, Jonathan (Brandon Wardell). June balances her content-creation with sweet tooth cravings and an unhealthy fixation on her ex-boyfriend, Davey (Haley Joel Osment), ignoring his engagement to fiancée, Kelly (Miranda Cosgrove). One day, June’s workplace is robbed, and two detectives (Jackie Sandler, Al Madrigal) suspect an inside job for an insurance payout. To prove her and Bill’s innocence, June takes it upon herself to find the perpetrators, and becomes caught in a wild roller coaster of strange personalities with plenty of snack breaks along the way.
Writer/director Nicholaus Goossen makes an eye-catching picture, brightened by colorful sets and surreal dream sequences. Comedy Central veterans like Bill Burr, Bobby Lee, Al Madrigal, Ms. Pat, and more provide an exciting lineup populating the small town. Unexpected cameos from viral rapper Bhad Bhabie/Danielle Bregoli and TikTok persona Trevor Wallace somewhat skew the tone toward a skit vibe. Though a surprisingly adequate job from the former, Wallace’s stoner dude-bro on the other hand would not be missed. I am unfamiliar with Povitsky’s former works, but her over-the-top facial expressions and style of delivery end up becoming a chore to watch. It is not a great sign when multiple scenes become instantly less enjoyable once the protagonist enters the conversation. There are a few times where June’s interactions bring out a human side that hints at complexity, such as others calling out her off-putting attitude, and an endearing but enabling relationship with her mother. Despite this, much of June’s self-centered personality becomes too grating to put up with, and any semblance of sympathy from the viewer is overshadowed by obnoxious quirks of a neither believable nor engaging character.
There are three clear plotlines: the robbery, the ex-boyfriend, and June’s desire for online fame. Unfortunately, the blend between them is disjointedly mixed to the point of distraction and extreme frustration. If there was a narrowed focus on a small-town scheme in the realm of Coen brothers’ Fargo, or a more modern angle on social media sleuths, the central narrative may have been more solidified. Influencer culture is a great target for criticism, especially as it relates to over-consumerism, unhealthy body image standards, and shallow fixation on follower numbers. However, June’s aspirations are so randomly incorporated, and play minimal importance in her amateur investigation. With the popularity of true-crime content that ranges from the wildly tactless to genuine case-solving, Drugstore June could have been an interesting story of an uninspired trend-follower utilizing her platform for her own personal mission. If anything, it seems like a tacked on afterthought to allow for low-hanging punchlines at internet conscious youths.
A common thread of jokes fixate on June’s love for junk food and desire for male attention. Both are handled in an uncomfortable and cringe-worthy manner that has one questioning when poorly written satire becomes ignorantly offensive, and may lose the original intention. June’s family shames her, calling her a pig at times, yet she nonsensically flip-flops between unbothered to freaking out about insinuations of her weight. Unwarrantedly cruel insults and bizarre responses make for a confusing depiction of her relationship with food. Vindication for the destruction of the drugstore’s ice cream machine is one of her main motivators, without any mention before the robbery. Additionally, it is baffling not to make June a dessert reviewer considering the pieces are right there. Almost none of the humor lands for me, and instead, feels like an unnecessary jab at eating disorders and dieting.
June openly flirts with a bevy of men, most of whom are older, regardless of her supposed tunnel vision on her ex. Of course, there is nothing wrong on principle with discussing this kind of subject. June’s flagrant behavior opens the door to psychosocial dynamics of seeking affirmation in one’s sexuality and identity as a woman. Though in the hands of Drugstore June, it instead becomes an off-hand “daddy issues” one-liner, along with uncalled-for, bawdy dialogue invoking walk-out worthy second-hand embarrassment. June is at least consistent with her assumptions that men are obsessed with her, and has potential at more self-aware irony if presented differently. An interesting sequence where June lies to her mother that her doctor (Bill Burr) is getting divorced because he is in love with her occurs, yet there is no follow-up or genuine examination of her psyche. Any deeper reasoning for this kind of projection is essentially muddled by lackluster delivery and ineffective setup.
Standout moments only pop up in rare glimpses, and the disappointing feeling of untapped potential lingers. Unlikeable protagonists, no matter how ridiculous, can be compelling if they read as sincere and reflect upon themselves. However, June’s infuriating narcissism makes almost everything about herself ruin those morsels of character development. The script also suffers from bathos at its worst, which is when tension is interrupted by jokes for anticlimax. June’s near constant lack of, or illogical reaction to serious scenes for the purpose of cliché personification leads to her arc feeling completely unearned. How can a character be changed if they are played as oblivious and largely unaffected by their surroundings? Adding insult to injury, she outright states in the denouement, “I learned a lot,” with little to no evidence in her actions to support this. Overall, inconsistent and tired characterization, disconnected plotlines, swathes of directionless dialogue, and tone-deaf humor melds into an unappetizing slog that may appeal to others, yet did not match my taste.
Satisfy your comedy cravings when Drugstore June comes to select theaters Friday, February 23rd.
