They say family are the friends you can’t choose – at least this is a mangled version of a very popular sentiment that has been expressed countless times in the past when discussing the merits and flaws of a very particular kind of story, those which centre on family members finding out that they have more in common than they initially realised. In terms of exploring these ideas, Jamie Babbit decides to look at the trials and tribulations of two sisters who could not be more different – one of a hard-working, earnest woman who is satisfied with knowing that she has done her best, the other a vulgar hedonist who is simply looking for carnal satiation and nothing more. This is the foundation on which Addicted to Fresno is built, and it becomes a work of incredible complexity, which is especially surprising considering it was never intended to be something particularly meaningful, outside of a few strong moments of human-based emotion. Babbit has long been underestimated as a filmmaker, with much of her work being mostly as a director-for-hire on mainly television, where she hasn’t been given the freedom that she perhaps deserves. However, much like her ambitious debut, the remarkable But I’m a Cheerleader, this film proves that she is extremely capable, and her few cinematic forays are very strong in showing that she is one of the most interesting directors working in the industry at the moment, so much that even a relatively minor, inconsequential comedy about sisterhood is strong enough to merit our attention and admiration, which may not always be what we expect from this kind of material, but is nonetheless enough to make it a total delight in every way.

As is the case with almost all of her films, Addicted to Fresno revolves around queer issues, and while they may not be as foregrounded as in the aforementioned But I’m a Cheerleader or lesser-known but still widely celebrated Itty Bitty Titty Committee and Breaking the Girls, the ideas embedded in this film are very strong in showing the various trials and tribulations of characters questioning their sexuality, or rather trying to negotiate their identity alongside clearly-defined but still deeply confusing categories. This is not a queer film as much as it is a story of sisterhood as seen through the perspective of two women navigating their own unique identities, realizing that even once you have reached the peak of adulthood, you don’t necessarily have all the answers, and the reality is that many of us remain somewhat confused and bewildered about our own internal monologues than most would be willing to admit. This is what the film is doing, and it is a resounding success in how it focuses on their individual struggles, as paired with the feeling of insecurity that comes when they inevitably start to compare themselves with one another. The character of Martha is proud that she supposedly has her life under control, but she is jealous of the libertine, free-spirited nature of Shannon, who in turn wishes she had the discipline and self-restraint of her sister. The film only adds queer subject matter in addition to this foundational narrative, and while it may not be merely supplementary (since it does serve an important purpose), it feels like this film is aiming less to be a provocative and off-the-wall satire about deviant identities (as society would see it), and more about two women recontextualizing their lives through understanding that identity is always shifting and that many of us are not destined to have solutions for these quandaries, which Babbit and screenwriter Karey Dornetto filter into this very funny and insightful dark comedy.

Arguably, the biggest appeal of Addicted to Fresno has to come in the form of the performances that populate the film. Both Natasha Lyonne and Judy Greer have been doing consistently good work for a couple of decades and were certainly notable enough to carry this mid-budget independent comedy since they’re both incredible actors who have mastered their very specific niche of comedy. However, this is exactly where the film is most intriguing since it is offering us something quite different in terms of these two actors that we all adore for very specific reasons, which it does through making them play very different characters to those that they were normally given. Playing against type is one of the biggest risks an actor can take since it has the potential to backfire and expose their lack of range, which is not something any actor is going to want to have as a mark against their record. However, when it is done well, it can pay off spectacularly, and both leads in Addicted to Fresno are extraordinary. It’s not complex work in theory – Greer is an over-the-top loose cannon, while Lyonne is more subdued and earnest, which are essentially the opposites of the kinds of characters they played throughout their careers, which seemed to be a calculated move on the part of Babbit, who reunites with both actors, having worked with Greer on the ill-fated television comedy Married, and Lyonne in But I’m a Cheerleader, a vital moment in both careers. Their work here is sharp, impeccable and very entertaining, and they’re joined by a decent supporting cast, with the likes of Aubrey Plaza (another person who has flourished into one of the greatest actors of their generation), Jon Daly, Molly Shannon and Ron Livingston all having their moments to contribute to what is an unexpectedly effective character-based comedy that hinges on the impact of these performances, which is done with such wit and candour on the part of the actors, it’s difficult to imagine anyone else in some of these roles.

There is a very clear lesson that resides right at the heart of Addicted to Fresno, which is that not every film needs to aspire to be original or unique in either its concept and execution, as long as it is made with genuine interest and an earnest approach to the subject matter. It is not always about doing it differently, but rather doing it well, which is precisely where this film is most intriguing. There is nothing particularly revolutionary or all that complex about this film on a conceptual level – two sisters find themselves rediscovering the lost spark between them through the process of spending time together, even if that time is spent mostly bickering – yet, there is something so profoundly compelling about this film that is quite difficult to describe without becoming overly analytical about a story that wasn’t even formed with what degree of foresight, aiming from the start to be something that follows a reliable pattern. This is important – just because a film adheres to a strict storytelling structure doesn’t mean that it is immediately disqualified from being entertaining since it is just a matter of ensuring that what it does is as interesting as the ideas embedded right at the heart of the story. There is a nuance to this film that is quite unexpectedly moving, but it never becomes part of the film’s identity, especially since Addicted to Fresno was aiming to be nothing more than a charming comedy that has a slightly more profound meaning, but which is merely incidental. Ultimately, there is nothing contained within this film that we have not seen done with this same level of detail and character-based compassion in many other works across every conceivable medium – the difference here is that there is enough thought to both the comedic and dramatic aspects of the story for it to feel fresh and invigorating, rather than being just a mindlessly trite and predictable comedy.

Addicted to Fresno is the kind of film that works best as something that is discovered rather than recommended – nearly a decade later, it resides in relative obscurity, being appreciated by a small but passionate group of supporters, but ultimately being quite a remarkably complex, insightful and very funny comedy that has inexplicably been left out of conversations on very promising films from an era where truly effective, meaningful comedies were in short supply, especially ones that have as simple a concept as this. It feels like a very traditional, earnest comedy – the film delivers on every aspect of the premise, and every surprise is earned, rather than being forced into the film. As a whole, Addicted to Fresno is a terrific film – at a mere 85 minutes, it proves that brevity is always appreciated, and it moves at a pace appropriate for the material, rather than being too strict in adhering to specific standards, which it knows it could never quite meet, at least not in the form that we find it here. Entertaining as a film of this calibre can get, and with as much charm as it has humour, Babbit’s work here is impeccable, and it is clear that it comes from an increasingly personal place for both the director and the writer (who are professional and personal partners, bringing an additional level of sensitivity and nuance to the story in terms of its conversations on identity), which all comes together beautifully throughout this film, which is far more compelling in practice than we would think from such a simple and seemingly unassuming premise.