We meet her face-down, with remnants of the previous night glued to her sweatpants, blond tresses poking out in all directions, reality TV blaring through tinny speakers. Her room is a dump. Vodka bottle on the nightstand, detritus spilling precariously off her dresser; Tracey Emin would be proud. She twitches awake and immediately chugs from an oversized bottle of Diet Coke, each gulp thunderous.
This is Mavis Gary (Charlize Theron), a thirtysomething divorcee and former prom queen whose life hasn’t quite turned out the way she imagined. She was a knockout then and she’s a knockout now – only people don’t pay attention the way they used to. By day she’s a ghostwriter for a failing teen series called Waverley Prep (think Gossip Girl but snider). By night she dolls up for dates with insufferable, mealy mouthed chumps who gasbag about their philanthropic ventures as if they’re Gandhi reincarnated. It’s no wonder her face is etched into a permanent scowl of disgust. Where did it all go wrong?
