Senior Year

What’s not to admire about Stephanie Conway? The protagonist of Senior Year miraculously recovers from a lift-threatening injury with a determination to finish high school at age 37.

However, her ulterior motives make Stephanie more obnoxious than endearing in this silly fish-out-of-water vehicle for Australian comedienne Rebel Wilson (Pitch Perfect). Her enthusiasm can’t rescue a spirited yet uneven — and borderline creepy — tale of arrested development that never manages much charm to accompany its chuckles.

As a teenager, Stephanie (Angourie Rice) was a relentless social climber whose quest for popularity at her suburban high school includes becoming head cheerleader and prom queen at all costs.

Those dreams are dashed when a cheerleading stunt goes horribly wrong at a pep rally. She lapses into a coma and is presumed dead in the yearbook.

Twenty years later, thanks to the wonders of medical science, Stephanie (Wilson) wakes up with a middle-aged body and the mind of a teen, eager to return to her old campus and earn her diploma.

But her ex-boyfriend (Justin Hartley) is now married to her old rival (Zoe Chao). Their daughter (Jade Bender) is the new popular girl who stands in the way of socially awkward Stephanie’s belated push for prom royalty. While she finds support from her best friend (Sam Richardson) who’s now the school librarian, Stephanie otherwise reignites old grudges and refuses to act her age.

The screenplay — mixing elements of Big and Never Been Kissed, among others — playfully satirizes the evolution of teenage shallowness and superficiality over the past two decades. Many of its laughs stem from that combination of broad slapstick, mixed-bag one-liners, and scattershot pop-culture references.

For example, Stephanie needs a lecture on trigger words that were used in casual conversation 20 years ago that are no longer politically correct. Of course, she is awestruck over smartphones. And she’s got plenty of catching up to do: “I just found out there have been eight more Fast and Furious movies.”

Veteran television director Alex Hardcastle doesn’t dwell on the film’s obvious logical deficiencies, although any deeper emotional connection remains elusive as it traverses self-help territory about letting go of the past and being true to yourself.

Senior Year provides some innocuous fun before its one-joke premise bogs down in contrivances that keep it from earning a passing grade.

Rated R, 113 minutes.