Trainwreck

The comic sensibilities of Judd Apatow and Amy Schumer seem ideally suited for one another, as evidenced by Trainwreck, a romantic comedy that certainly is mislabeled, at least in terms of describing quality.

Apatow is known for finding creative vehicles in which humorists can branch out into material that makes them more versatile or vulnerable, while still maintaining a raunchy and ribald sense of fun. Enter Schumer, who makes her screenwriting debut and stars in a mildly autobiographical story that showcases a softer side of her edgy material without compromising the big laughs.

She plays Amy, a journalist for a trashy Manhattan men’s magazine whose latest assignment from her heartless editor (Tilda Swinton) is a profile of Aaron (Bill Hader), a surgeon specializing in sports medicine, and whose protective best friend happens to be basketball superstar LeBron James (whose self-deprecating role is amusing).

Meanwhile, Amy’s personal life is a mess of empty promiscuity and uncomfortable visits with her younger sister (Brie Larson) and her dying father (Colin Quinn), whose bigotry and stubbornness has driven away those around him, including his ex-wife. He’s responsible for instilling in Amy at a young age the mantra that “monogamy isn’t realistic.”

Still, Amy finds herself drawn to Aaron despite their lack of common interests, and their relationship develops, Amy begins to realize that her callous attitude toward romance has prevented her from meeting quality men.

Schumer’ script showcases plenty of the mischievous, brutally honest sex jokes that have earned her legions of fans. But Trainwreck proves that she’s almost equally adept at sprinkling in tender, poignant moments — many drawn from personal experiences at which she only hints in her stand-up routines or cable television sketches.

Her heavily improvised performance lacks polish, yet part of the appeal is that neither Schumer nor Hader possess the physical qualities of the classic Hollywood romantic leads. That tends to make their awkwardness seem more genuine, even if the film steers toward a conventional resolution in the final act.

There are plenty of clever sight gags and one-liners along the way, along with a slate of cameos from athletes (among them Tony Romo, Amare Stoudemire and John Cena) that should appease those who might not share Amy’s disdain for sports.

The result puts a fresh spin on familiar territory that’s freewheeling and insightful and full of love.

Rated R, 124 minutes.