The Deb: TIFF '24's Muted Closing Gala was a Mean Girl-ish Musical That Should Be Heard

(Editor’s note: An unexpectedly strict review embargo on the Toronto International Film Festival’s closing gala, The Deb, resulted in a late review. But Original-Cin’s Thom Ernst suggests that fans of movie musicals seek this one out when it hits theatres or streaming services)

 By Thom Ernst

Rating: B-minus

Rebel Wilson makes a bold move in her directorial debut with The Deb, a musical comedy – adapted from a popular Australian stage musical - that dares to waltz into a genre notoriously divisive among filmgoers.

Natalie Abbott in The Deb.

As someone who has always had a soft spot for musicals, I approached The Deb with open arms and eager ears. But let’s not kid ourselves—there’s a sizable crowd out there that doesn’t just dislike musicals, they downright detest them.

In fact, just before catching The Deb, I found myself in a well-worn battle defending the merits of the movie musical. Spoiler alert: I lost. Convincing musical deniers is about as futile as getting cats to dance in unison—a fact Rebel Wilson might know too well from her experience with Cats.

The common grievance I hear: "Nobody in real life breaks into song and dance!" To which I reply, “That’s not the problem with musicals; that’s the problem with life.” Clever as that retort may be, it never seems to win over the opposition.

Wilson’s choice of a musical comedy isn’t entirely unexpected. We’ve seen her belt out tunes and hit punchlines in Pitch Perfect, and while her role in Cats is better left unmentioned, it showcased a willingness to throw herself into the absurd.
In The Deb, Wilson delivers a technically polished piece, propped up by standout performances from Charlotte MacInnes Natalie Abbott, and Naomi Sequeira.

The plot centers on Taylah (Abbott), a small-town girl enduring the cruel taunts of her peers, hoping to redeem herself at the local Debutante Ball. The storyline, though, feels overly familiar, unable to rise to the heights of its musical numbers. The real scene-stealer is Taylah’s cousin Maeve (MacInnes), a rebellious city girl exiled to the country after a protest gone topless—a storyline that could’ve used more focus.

The script, especially through Maeve’s irreverence, has some genuinely funny moments, likely courtesy of Wilson’s added touch. Songs like Fuck My Life bring to mind the irreverent humor of South Park or The Book of Mormon—catchy, sharp, and designed to linger long after the credits roll.
In the end, The Deb won’t convert musical skeptics. But if you’re already a fan of the genre, it’s good fun, even if imperfect.

At the very least, it’s clear Wilson is determined to prove she can do better than Jennyanydots in Cats.