Kate Micucci, Alison Brie, Aubrey Plaza
THE LITTLE HOURS” My rating: C+
90 minutes | MPAA rating: R
Set in rural Italy in 1347, “The Little Hours” strives for historical accuracy, from the costumes and settings to the musical score beneath the action.
Except, that is, when it comes to dialogue. These 14th-century characters — nuns, priests, noblemen, servants — converse in the most modern of idioms.
They swear like drunken sailors. They employ 20th-century phrases.
It’s the contrast between the visual authenticity and the film’s aural outrageousness that gives “Little Hours” — based on a raunchy story by Boccaccio — its comic oomph.
That and a handful of wickedly funny performances from a remarkably deep roster of players.
Mostly the yarn — written and directed by Jeff Baena, maker of the zombie comedy “Life After Beth” — is set in a convent where the fundamentally decent Mother Superior (Molly Shannon) has her hands full keeping peace among her brood of black-habited and foul- tempered nuns.
The snippiest of the bunch is Sister Fernanda (Aubrey Plaza), a explosively nasty woman with an unblinking death stare and a vocabulary capable of peeling paint.
Her cohort is the clumsy Sister Geneva (Kate Micucci), the convent’s gnomish tattletale, a snoop always eager to inform on her sisters.
Aubrey Plaza, Dave Franco
Then there’s Sister Alessandra (Alison Brie), daughter of a rich merchant. She dreams of getting the hell out of there for some sort of civilized lifestyle. As it is, her family influence guarantees that she gets the easiest assignments.
“Just because your dad gives money to the convent,” fumes Fernanda, “it doesn’t mean you get anything you want.”
This cloistered life is something less than copacetic, and it only gets weirder with the arrival of a testosterone-fueled temptation.
Massetto (Dave Franco) is the subject of a manhunt led by his cuckolded former master (Nick Offerman). The convent’s boozy priest (John C. Reilly) generously invites the fugitive to pose as a deaf mute and take on a gig as the nunnery’s handyman.
It doesn’t take long for the kid’s hunky presence to set off a hormonal revolution among the ladies, who find all sorts of excuses to be alone with the terrified newcomer.
Things reach a raucous head during a visit by the local bishop (Fred Armisen) and a midnight celebration by a coven of naked dancing witches.
There is less going on here than meets the eye, and more than a few viewers will conclude that “The Little Hours” quickly works its one-joke premise into the ground. It’s like a “Saturday Night Live” skit that doesn’t know when to quit.
But when it’s funny, it’s really funny.
| Robert W. Butler
Butler's Cinema Scene 
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