Welcome to Me

Needless to say, comedies about mental illness can be tricky from a narrative perspective. Most often the goal is to elicit laughs without becoming insensitive, and to be respectful without turning into a maudlin freak show.

So recognizing that Welcome to Me makes a decent effort, or succeeds despite its flaws, isn’t faint praise. It might lack in polish, but compensates with a terrific performance by Kristen Wiig as a woman with borderline personality disorder.

Wiig plays Alice, a vulnerable and socially awkward woman who wins the lottery and immediately heads to Las Vegas with her best friend (Linda Cardellini) in tow. Refusing to take the medication prescribed by her psychiatrist (Tim Robbins), she takes up residence in a casino and approaches a fledgling television executive (James Marsden) about using her new fortune to launch a daytime talk show in which she rambles about various aspects of her life and personal struggles. The result is bumbling and amateurish, but also capriciously compelling for viewers, and strangely cathartic for Alice as she tries to validate her grudges and mood swings.

She’s impetuous and outgoing one minute, timid and insecure the next, and prone to fits of selfish rage. Each of these traits is showcased on her show, which is a clever and hilarious satire of daytime gabfests.

While her character might be something of an involuntary egomaniac, Wiig’s portrayal is committed and audacious, demonstrating again her versatility. The deep supporting cast includes Wes Bentley, Jennifer Jason Leigh and Joan Cusack.

Alice is a sad and lonely figure, requiring both Wiig and director Shira Piven (the wife of filmmaker Adam McKay) to straddle that fine line between sympathy and pity. Her condition manifests itself is a series of bizarre behaviors, such as her obsessions with reading from prepared statements, eating string cheese, and watching Oprah reruns on VHS tapes.

It’s often very funny, even if rookie screenwriter Eliot Laurence overloads the periphery characters with quirks and neuroses and tends to trivialize Alice’s affliction amid a broad emotional roller coaster.

The film feels too detached from reality to generate much poignancy, yet perhaps its episodic and scatterbrained structure is fitting given the plight of its protagonist. After all, moviegoers might be too busy enjoying themselves to realize that by the time it’s over, they don’t know much more about Alice’s condition than they did beforehand.

Rated R, 87 minutes.