The Wrong Girls Review: Stoner Sci-Fi Crime Oddity

Frankie (Kristen Stewart) and Molly (Alia Shawkat) are terminal roommates in a Los Angeles that smells like cat urine and stale bong water. They’re not losers - they’re just aggressively unmotivated, coasting on gig work and mutual reinforcement of their own worst impulses. Their codependency is a fortress, until a case of mistaken identity breaches the walls. A dropped phone, a wrong address, and suddenly the pair are mistaken for a crew of high-tech couriers who have stolen a bio-weapon from a shadowy biotech firm run by the perpetually flustered Martin Flynn (Tony Hale). Chased by a pair of Norwegian enforcers (Thomas La Barbera Christensen and Thor Knai, gloriously deadpan) and a cryptic fixer named Not Metal Head Dave (LaKeith Stanfield, stealing every scene he’s in), Frankie and Molly fumble their way through a conspiracy they can’t comprehend, all while trying to figure out if they should flee, fight, or just order another pizza.

The film’s greatest asset is its central pairing. Stewart, doing her signature blend of brittle anxiety and feral charisma, plays Frankie with a manic edge; she’s the “planner” whose plans evaporate on contact with reality. Shawkat’s Molly is the opposite - a slacker sage who treats every crisis as an opportunity to nap or snack. Their dynamic is believable in a way that screenplays rarely capture; they finish each other’s sentences and, more importantly, sabotage each other’s escapes with loving precision. Meyer, directing from a script she co-wrote, understands that the sci-fi McGuffin is just an excuse to keep these two talking in a car.

And talk they do. The dialogue is snappy, improvisatory, and often laugh-out-loud funny, full of non-sequiturs about crypto scams and passive-aggressive texts to landlords. Zack Fox, as Josh, a neighbor who keeps wandering into scenes with unhelpful commentary, is a scene-stealer, his deadpan delivery landing every punchline. Tony Hale is perfectly cast as the villain who is less evil than pathologically overwhelmed, a man whose master plan is perpetually on the verge of a panic attack.

But the plot is a mess. The time-travel element - because yes, the sci-fi tag isn’t just for flavor - is introduced with a shrug and never given a coherent logic. The rules change to suit the joke, which is fine for a sketch, but exhausting for a feature. By the third act, the momentum stalls as the film tries to resolve threads it never properly tied. A mid-film detour into a corporate retreat feels like a B-plot from a different, less interesting movie.

Visually, the film looks appropriately grimy, but Meyer lacks the compositional flair to make the slacker aesthetic feel stylized. It often resembles a very expensive web series. Yet, just when you’re about to write it off, Stewart delivers a speech in a diner about the terrifying intimacy of knowing someone so well that you lose yourself in them. It’s a gut-punch moment that re-contextualizes the entire film as a story about love and the fear of being seen. That’s when The Wrong Girls transcends its shagginess. It’s not about the bio-weapon or the time loop; it’s about two people who are terrified of becoming themselves. The chaos isn’t the plot; it’s the therapy.

Pros

• The electric, lived-in chemistry between Stewart and Shawkat is worth the price of admission.
• Consistently funny, sharp dialogue with genuine laugh-out-loud moments, especially from Zack Fox and LaKeith Stanfield.
• A surprisingly poignant core about the suffocating warmth of deep friendship.
• Tony Hale’s comedic discomfort is weaponized effectively.

Cons

• The sci-fi premise is incoherent and feels bolted on.
• Pacing drags significantly in the middle act.
• The visual style is flat and disappointingly low-energy.
• The supporting villains are under-written.
• The ending feels abrupt and unearned.

The Wrong Girls is the cinematic equivalent of a friend’s chaotic apartment: messy, cramped, and with questionable stains, but you’re happy you showed up. It’s a film that believes in the power of hanging out, and it’s carried by two performers who make just existing on screen feel like an act of rebellion. It’s not the smartest comedy or the tightest thriller, but its heart is in the right place - right next to a half-eaten burrito and an unopened utility bill. Stream it for the vibe, stay for the melancholy. It’s a flawed gem, and honestly, we need more of those.