Old School. Biblically Independent.
By Lindsay Traves | Film | August 14, 2026
I’m often reminded of the Michelle Wolf bit about Wonder Woman and true gender equality at the movies. In her rant, she discusses how true parity would come by way of women being allowed to make bad movies and then immediately make another one. “No one left crappy Batman v Superman and said, ‘well I guess we’re done making man movies.’” So look, I’m glad we get women fronted genre flicks, like this stoner film with Kristen Stewart and Alia Shawkat, but that doesn’t mean I gotta like it.
Reefer brained Frankie (Stewart) and Molly (Shawkat) are in a bit of a bind as rent is due for their apartment (“Casa de Chill Zone”), a regular problem for the aimless thirty-somethings with a proclivity for smokin’ the ganja. The pair of besties get by with their combination of skills (something about spreadsheets, a peppering of delivery gigs, and the odd scheme) and this day seems to make things a bit more urgent. While Molly plucks away at her valuable work, Frankie hits up a show where she is accidentally sucked into a world of science espionage by way of a case of mistaken identity that leaves her with a briefcase full of strange psychedelics. Desperate for cash and being chased by some Danish goons and a mercenary called “Not Metal Head Dave” (Lakeith Stanfield), the gals sample then try to sell the mysterious glowing goo, setting them off into a messy odyssey of burnouts versus the people who can’t figure them out.
Writer and director Dylan Meyer built her gal-pal version of burnout comedies like Friday or Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle and comes just on the heels of One of Them Days. She follows much of the formula, sending her pair-of-dummies through a nightlife side-quest while their villains seem unable to track their erratic movements and mistake them for brilliant. Luck keeps them alive through the end, that and the intervention of some more stable people.
Meyer, along with director of photography Todd Banhazl, created a buzzed headachy visual style, a departure from the saturated view of its cohorts. Windows are blown out with light, colors are blunted, and you can practically hear the buzz of fluorescent and halogen lights in the indoor shots. Fisheyes and mounted single cams are deployed which creates this sort of psychedelic imagery (that kind of reminded me of Braid and other late night cult favorites). I do think Meyer was chasing the midnight cult aesthetic, but I don’t know that her movie is quotable or snappy enough to earn a place in midnight cult canon.
Stewart and Shawkat do their best (Stewart particularly excelling with some physical comedy), but timing is lagged (maybe a meta comment on being lit) and there aren’t enough big lulz to breathe life into what they’re doing. The comedy is just a bit flaccid and there’s nothing zingy to bring out real laughs. The element of telepathy is a fun way to show their friendship connection, the drug effect, and set up a good bit but it’s unfortunately hardly deployed. Seth Rogen and Kumail Nanjiani come in on time as the voices of their two cats (giving shades of Keanu) but even they are relegated to just a few spots about messy girls being in charge of their wellbeing. I had more fun watching the leading duo crush a gummy and go for KBBQ.
I love dirtbag ladies clunking heads, and it’s nice to see the next iteration of buddy movies and messy ensembles come by way of a slice of the millennial women’s experience a la Broad City. I am thrilled there is room for more female fronted comedy rips, but that doesn’t mean The Wrong Girls is particularly good.
The burnout babes are a fun time of feeling high and craving a grody buffet, but the low stakes convoluted story, and a lack of snap and zip make this one a bit of a slower burn than a whacky comedy ought to be.
The Wrong Girls hits theaters August 14, 2026
