There’s a song in the Aussie musical The Deb called “pretty strong,” and that’s a fine descriptor for Rebel Wilson’s directorial debut. This colorful, exuberant musical about finding glamour in a dusty small town is at times as infectious as its songs, at times as broad as its boldest characters, and at times as dull as the landscape around the town of Dunburn, Australia. Based on the 2022 musical, with songs written by Megan Washington, lyrics by Washington and Hanna Reilly, and the theatrical book by Reilly, this is the story of a very online Maeve (Charlotte MacInnes), attendee at a private girls school and nascent social media starlet. The first to chastise those whose behavior she disputes, or take credit for whatever activism mode she chooses to amplify, she soon takes one too many chances before exposing herself (literally), and thus becoming the “cancel pig,” demonized and expelled from her cloistered environment.

What Is ‘The Deb’ About?
Sent by her mother some six hours from Sydney (8 hours by bus), she connects with her cousin Taylah (Natalie Abbott). Here the fashion-conscious city dweller and so-called “feminist voice of [her] generation” is paired with her relative whose chores include sheep herding and pig rustling, setting up the obvious urban/rural, popular girl/frumpy outcast dynamic. Yet what sets the storyline apart is how it both embraces and comments upon these and other cliché elements, making both the celebration and subversion of tradition central to almost every aspect of the storyline. When the ostensible bully Annabelle (Stevie Jean) arrives, her fellow “Pixie Cups” Daniele (Brianna Bishop) and Chantelle (Karis Oaka) in tow, Maeve responds in cutting fashion, rolling her eyes at the obviousness of such small-town hijinks.

Maeve arrives just in time as preparations are set for the debutante ball, a traditional coming-of-age event where the local girls are formally “introduced,” festooned in marshmallow-like gowns constructed by a local seamstress (Tara Morice). While Taylah’s father (Shane Jackson) tries to keep the farm going despite a long-standing drought, he’s also tasked with his mayoral duties to try and garner funds from the capital city. The plot is wrapped in a comforting if predictable tale of rebellious youth and the vagaries of popularity, with several wild swings that bring the characters closer and farther apart as things go inevitably awry. Given Wilson’s connection to films like Bridesmaids and (especially) Pitch Perfect, there’s an obvious thematic continuity at play, but one shouldn’t underestimate the voracious Australian penchant for all things broadly musical.

For decades, the continent has been content to embrace both the pomp and pretensions of such productions. When Hollywood eschewed one of its major genres in favor of either gritty or violent fare, relegating the form for the most part to animated titles, the likes of Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge, the unabashed camp of Stephen Elliott’s The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, or the absolutely sublime Muriel’s Wedding by P.J. Hogan showed how the mix of the musical with the dramatic could pave a new way forward for the form. At the same time, Wilson has made a career mixing raunch and broad comedy with a bite, and here she trades Cats’ Jellicle Ball for a debutante gathering. It would be easy to think her over-the-top on-screen inclusion as the local butt crack waxer/hair stylist/rural stage mom Janette would overwhelm the other characters, but given that much of the film is already cranked to 11, she blends with the rest of the ensemble quite effectively. Her shop, “Curl Up ‘n Dye” may be a cheap joke, but it’s a welcome one.

‘The Deb’ Has Some Catchy Songs
Image via TIFF

As for the songs, the core of any musical’s success, they’re catchy and clever, ribald and ridiculous. From the “FML” opener through to the rousing closer, there’s a wide variety of pop idioms, hip-hop-inflected beats, and aria-like melismatic moments so tuneful they’re likely to end up as audition pieces for high school glee clubs within hours of the film’s release. While the film can’t quite match the magnificence of, say, Hairspray, another musical with a curvy central ugly duckling-like character that consistently dances between earnestness and campiness, there’s a lot to admire about its execution. The camera work is appropriately sweeping, the performances earnest yet never cloying, the storyline predictable yet engaging, and the choreography making great use of the sets and locations.

At this point, it’s probably best to acknowledge the elephant in the room: the lawsuits that hang like dark clouds over the joyousness of the film. Putting those metatextual concerns aside, and taken strictly on what’s evidenced on screen, this is an entertaining, rambunctious film with enough sleaze and sardonicism to please even the most jaded moviegoer. Whatever the truth about any drama that took place onset, there’s no sense on screen of any turmoil affecting the end product. From the most overwrought to the most joyful moments we see the characters experience, one can’t help but fall for the residents deep in Australia’s bush.

Obnoxious and heartfelt in equal measure, The Deb is frequently a delight. Its moments of musical whimsy perfectly capture the feelings of this disparate group of townsfolk (the film would have benefited from even more songs likely culled from the original production), and the rest of the storyline is both comforting in its familiarity and fresh in its execution. With clever lyrics, punchy tunes, and a committed cast, this is another jewel in the crown of Australian musical films, a worthy watch even for those cynical about such unabashed flights of tuneful fancy.

The Deb had its World Premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival.