Paolo Virzì’s Like Crazy (not to be confused with Drake Doremus’ Like Crazy from a few years back. R.I.P. Anton Yelchin) is a lighter, less substantive — and far inferior — mixture of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Thelma & Louise that too often feels like a vanity project for the goddess Valeria Bruni Tedeschi, who’s admittedly ace here (if you’re unfamiliar with her work, check out Human Capital).
The script too often veers towards tired, purportedly crowd-pleasing diva theatrics over depth of development and consistency of tone.
It ultimately ends on the profound though unearned suggestion that some women clinically-diagnosed with behavioral disorders may only be considered crazy due to the cultural influences that inflict insane conditions upon them. A line in the movie specifies that Tedeschi’s character’s son “cries like crazy” when they’re apart, and she only leaves him when her “loved ones” force her to get treatment for her perceived problems. Their separation worsens her mental state, thus perpetuating the same vicious cycle. When society rips away women from living in their ideal realities, the subsequent behavior prompted by the resulting inevitable sadness makes them, not actually crazy, but Like Crazy.
Convincingly building towards this sort of intriguing observation relies on far more character backstory that should’ve been the focus throughout instead of the persistent comedic hijinks, whose excessive familiarity diminishes their humor.