The Valet

The valet stand is the ultimate vantage point for the theater of the absurd that is Los Angeles. You see the grime on the underside of a Ferrari and the panic in the eyes of a producer who can't find his mistress's earring. In Richard Wong’s The Valet, this invisible world of service workers collides head-on with the blinding flashbulbs of the paparazzi, and for once, the guy holding the keys gets to drive the narrative. I watched this while my apartment's air conditioner was making a rhythmic clanking sound like a dying lawnmower, and honestly, the film’s upbeat, breezy energy was the only thing keeping me from a heat-induced meltdown.

Released in 2022 as a Hulu original, The Valet arrived during that strange, post-pandemic middle-ground where movies that would have been reliable mid-budget theatrical hits a decade ago are now cordoned off to streaming platforms. It’s a remake of the 2006 French comedy La Doublure, but it swaps out the Parisian chic for the sprawling, multicultural reality of modern-day L.A. This isn't the "City of Stars" version of the city; it’s the L.A. of Koreatown diners, crowded Mexican-American family dinners, and the working-class hustle that keeps the dream machine greased.

The Art of Being Invisible

At the center of the chaos is Eugenio Derbez as Antonio, a man so unassuming he practically blends into the drywall. Derbez has spent decades as a comedic titan in Mexico, and here he utilizes a specific brand of "everyman" charm that feels like a throwback to silent film stars—all expressive eyes and slightly slumped shoulders. When he accidentally ends up in a paparazzi shot with world-famous actress Olivia Allan (Samara Weaving) and her married billionaire lover, Vincent (Max Greenfield), he becomes the essential pawn in a high-stakes PR cover-up.

The premise is pure screwball farce: Antonio must pretend to be Olivia’s new boyfriend to steer the scandal away from Vincent’s looming divorce. What I found most refreshing, though, is that the movie doesn't lean into the tired "nerd gets the girl" trope with a straight face. Instead, it treats the relationship as a genuine, platonic collision of two lonely people from different solar systems. Samara Weaving, who has spent the last few years being the best thing in every horror movie she touches (look no further than Ready or Not), proves she’s just as sharp in a comedy. She plays Olivia not as a spoiled brat, but as a woman exhausted by the performance of being herself.

A Comedy with an Actual Pulse

The humor here isn't the rapid-fire, improv-heavy style that dominated the 2010s. It’s more structured and observational. Max Greenfield is predictably excellent as the quintessential "douchebag in a suit," a role he has perfected since his days on New Girl. But the real comedic heavy lifting comes from the supporting cast. Antonio’s family and his valet coworkers provide a Greek chorus of disbelief and bad advice. Amaury Nolasco, whom most of us remember for his high-stakes intensity in Prison Break, is a total riot here as a coworker who is far too invested in Antonio’s fake romance.

I’ll be honest: the film’s biggest surprise isn’t the romance, but the fact that it makes you actually care about a billionaire’s mistress problems. That’s a testament to the script by Rob Greenberg and Bob Fisher, who managed to modernize a French farce into something that feels deeply rooted in the Latinx experience in L.A. without it feeling like a checkbox exercise in "representation." The cultural friction is where the best jokes live—like the scene where Olivia has to survive a family breakfast that involves an interrogation from Antonio’s mother, played with scene-stealing warmth by the late Carmen Salinas.

Streaming Constraints and Creative Wins

You can feel the "streaming era" DNA in the film’s 124-minute runtime, which is—let’s be real—about fifteen minutes too long for a rom-com. In the theatrical era, an editor probably would have taken a machete to some of the subplots involving Vincent’s private investigators. However, the extra breathing room allows for some surprisingly poignant moments. There’s a scene where Antonio explains how he feels invisible to the people whose cars he parks, and for a moment, the comedy drops away to reveal a sharp bit of social commentary about who we choose to see in a city built on status.

The production itself had to navigate the tail end of COVID protocols, and it’s a credit to director Richard Wong that the film feels so lived-in and vibrant. Turns out, this was one of the first major projects for Eugenio Derbez's 3Pas Studios to really hit that "global streaming" sweet spot, proving there’s a massive audience for stories that don’t involve capes or multiverses. It’s a "comfort food" movie, sure, but it’s high-quality comfort food—like the perfect street taco found in a parking lot you’d usually drive right past.

If you’re looking for a film that reinvents the wheel, this isn’t it. But if you want a movie that knows exactly how to balance a slapstick bike crash with a genuine heart, The Valet is a winner. It captures a specific moment in our current cinema where the "mid-budget movie" is finding a second life on our TVs, reminding us that sometimes the most interesting story isn't the star on the red carpet, but the person holding their car keys. It’s charming, it’s funny, and it’s a perfect way to kill two hours when your own life feels a little too much like a farce.