Depression is a bitch. It viciously takes everything you hold dear, leaving you drowning from the heaviness in your chest. Just ask Sam Cowell - a former comedian and au pair whose crippling PTSD worsens when the child she used to nanny vanishes. Rachel Sennott takes center stage as Sam in this harrowing indie drama disguised as a "dramedy. Even though particular storytelling techniques used throughout the film undercut its intended impact, I Used To Be Funny is an intimate look at how difficult it can be to cope with our trauma in a world that refuses to slow down long enough for us to heal effectively. 

For those unfamiliar with Sennott's work, she first entered the cultural zeitgeist starring in the hilariously uncomfortable film titled Shiva Baby, a movie everyone should see at least once in their lifetime. From there, she was a clear stand-out in Bodies, Bodies, Bodies before reteaming with Shiva Baby director Emma Seligman to star in Bottoms, a brilliant high-school comedy from last year that most audiences sadly missed out on. Now, Sennott has joined forces with writer/director Ally Pankiw (The Great, Feel Good) for her feature directorial debut, I Used To Be Funny. With such an impressively unique performance, Sennott more than proves that she should be at the top of every director's casting list. 

Pankiw does an admirable job in the director's chair and is slowly making a name for herself in the indie space. Her best decision with this movie was casting Sennott, who elevates material that could have been much less compelling. Even though I Used To Be Funny is being marketed as a dramedy that leans more into the comedy camp, the laughs are scarce due to the intense subject matter, which is why casting an actress like Sennott was crucial. While vastly different from her past roles, Sennott flawlessly blends her sarcastic humour, laissez-faire attitude, and genuine acting ability, producing a completely natural performance and a character that feels authentically lived in. 

Those suffering, or who've suffered, with depression know how draining it can be on you and also your loved ones, which is why so many individuals with depression often express feeling like a burden to those around them. I Used To Be Funny nails how it portrays this common mental health side effect. Sam cut all her ties with her ex-boyfriend and fellow stand-up comedian, Noa (Ennis Esmer); however, she still talks to her friends/roommates Paige (Sabrina Jalees) and Philip (Caleb Hearon). Starting out supportive and reassuring, her friends eventually grow tired of Sam's non-negotiables, which include a zero-guest policy in their shared home. Pankiw's strong writing, combined with Jalees and Hearon's empathetic performances, make it hard to mistake Paige and Philip's pushing of Sam as anything but love because, as with most loved ones, their understanding eventually runs out, and life must continue. Watching Sam grapple with this reality is heartbreaking and deeply relatable. 

Another incredibly realistic and commonly experienced symptom of depression expressed quite well in the film is the loss of interest in one's passion. Sam was a stand-up comedian concurrently nannying for Brooke (Olga Petsa)- a strong-headed 12-year-old girl struggling with her mom's recent cancer diagnosis. While not the central timeline, I Used To Be Funny explores this chapter in Sam's life through flashbacks that come when Brooke goes missing in the present. It's unclear why the two had a falling out for so long because it's teased out in flashbacks, but whatever happened has caused Sam to give up her dreams altogether. At first, this narrative technique works fine. However, as the film progresses and becomes increasingly heavy, the constant switching between past and present detracts from Sam's journey to recovery. It also needlessly convolutes a story that requires no showmanship, keeping the audience at arm's length for far too long. 

The film's tone will certainly be divisive. The jokes come across as overwritten, which gives the film an inauthentic quality in the world of stand-up comedy, but more importantly, it makes the tone somewhat confusing. Sennott's sarcastic quips do a lot to make up for the lack of laughs, but not enough to warrant the backdrop of stand-up comedy. Whether it's the film's overall tone, low-key atmosphere, the jokes themselves, or a combination of all three, Pankiw was seemingly afraid to lean into the comedy due to the subject matter, even when the story demanded it. It's strange this aspect needed more work since Pankiw has a background in stand-up. Luckily, she makes up for it by knocking the dramatic elements out of the park. 

The hope for most indie flicks is to gain enough traction with smaller audiences to propel the movie into mainstream consciousness after a limited theatrical run. I Used To Be Funny may not attain that level of success, but everyone involved deserves a ton of recognition for crafting a film as audacious and essential to the mental health conversation as this one is.