If you can get past a few improbabilities (not difficult, given the solid cast), “Table 19” offers a sneakily compelling blend of farce and realism.
The setup could have been pulled from almost any TV sitcom: Six individuals have been invited to a wedding but at the reception find themselves seated at the furthest table from the action. It’s pretty clear that they’ve been assigned to wedding Siberia.
Our protagonist is Eloise (Anna Kendrick, who has the knack of making a crying scene both touching and hilarious). Until two months ago she was the designated maid of honor and the long-time squeeze of the bride’s brother, Teddy (Wyatt Russell).
But Teddy dumped her (via email, for crissakes) and now, after retreating into a funk, Eloise has shown up to claim her seat—at far-flung Table 19.
Her fellow exiles include a bickering couple (Lisa Kudrow, Craig Robinson) who are only there because of a distant business connection with the bride’s father, the bride’s former nanny (June Squibb), the groom’s socially inept cousin (Stephen Merchant), a former jailbird (for embezzlement) now living in a halfway house, and a teen dweeb (Tony Revolori. . . he was the bellboy in “Grand Budapest Hotel”) desperate to lose his virginity in what he has been told is the sexually-charged atmosphere of a wedding party.
“Table 19” works not only because of the deliciously droll performances, but because director Jeffrey Blintz (who hit the documentary sweet spot with 2002’s “Spellbound” before turning to TV’s “The Office”) and co-writers Jay and Mark Duplass (“The Puffy Chair,” “Baghead,” “Jeff, Who Lives at Home,” HBO’s “Togetherness”) are so sneaky about giving us broadly comic characters and then methodically revealing the humans underneath.
The film sets us up to expect standard-issue plot developments, then yanks out the rug with unexpected twists and character issues.
Don’t want to build up “Table 19” too much. . . its pleasures are modest ones. Yet the ability to leave audiences hovering somewhere between a snort and a sob should not be dismissed—especially in the armpit months of the film release calendar.