About I Used to Be Funny
I Used to Be Funny (2023) is a compelling dark comedy-drama that deftly blends humor with profound psychological depth. The film follows Sam, a stand-up comedian whose career and personal life are derailed by PTSD. Her fragile world is further shaken when Brooke, a teenage girl she once nannied, goes missing. The central mystery forces Sam to confront her traumatic past and the complex, possibly fractured, relationship she had with the girl, weighing a moral imperative against her own precarious mental health.
Rachel Sennott delivers a powerhouse, nuanced performance as Sam, masterfully capturing the character's sharp wit, vulnerability, and internal chaos. The direction skillfully navigates between timelines, using Sam's stand-up routines not just for levity but as a narrative device to explore memory and trauma. The supporting cast adds rich layers to this UK-Canadian co-production, grounding the mystery in emotional reality.
This film is a must-watch for viewers who appreciate character-driven stories that tackle heavy themes with intelligence and unexpected humor. It transcends typical genre boundaries, offering a unique exploration of grief, responsibility, and the struggle to find one's voice after trauma. The 105-minute runtime is a tightly woven journey that will leave you reflecting long after the credits roll.
Rachel Sennott delivers a powerhouse, nuanced performance as Sam, masterfully capturing the character's sharp wit, vulnerability, and internal chaos. The direction skillfully navigates between timelines, using Sam's stand-up routines not just for levity but as a narrative device to explore memory and trauma. The supporting cast adds rich layers to this UK-Canadian co-production, grounding the mystery in emotional reality.
This film is a must-watch for viewers who appreciate character-driven stories that tackle heavy themes with intelligence and unexpected humor. It transcends typical genre boundaries, offering a unique exploration of grief, responsibility, and the struggle to find one's voice after trauma. The 105-minute runtime is a tightly woven journey that will leave you reflecting long after the credits roll.


















