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LADY BIRD (2017)
Directed by Greta
Gerwig
A24, 94 minutes, R (language,
sexuality)
★★★
Groucho Marx once quipped, "I don't care to belong to
any club that will have me as a member." He wasn't speaking of his
adolescent years, but he could have been. Do you know a teenager who hasn't
gone through an identity crisis? If you want to make a Sturm und Drang film, focusing on teens is the easiest way to do
so. Saying something new is much harder. This is the challenge facing novice
director Greta Gerwig in Lady Bird. Not
surprisingly, she delivers a mixed result.
Gerwig opens with an epigram from Joan Didion: "Anyone
who talks about California hedonism has never spent a Christmas in Sacramento."
It's an amusing line, though it doesn't quite hide the fact that Lady Bird is a standard coming-of-age
film. You know the type—the classic Freudian moment in adolescents' lives in
which they must symbolically slay the dominant parent to become truly
independent. Gerwig's twist is that it's mom, not dad, who must fall. This
makes Gerwig's film more than a genre knock-off but just a tick above the norm,
not a quantum leap.
The film is set just after 9/11. Right away we have a missed
opportunity. The film centers on the turmoil and disconnectedness of Christine
McPherson (Saoirse Ronan), who adopts the affected handle "Lady Bird"
as an act of minor rebellion. Why the film is set in 2002-03 is a mystery,
given that Gerwig never makes logical parallels between Lady Bird's personal
upheaval and that of the nation itself. New York appears in the film, but as
the destination to which Lady Bird wishes to escape, not as any deeper analogy.
Indeed, it's tempting to subtitle the movie Stifled
in Sacramento. Lady Bird is the poster child for decent but disaffected
teens. Her hair is streaked with red highlights and she wears on her sleeve her
boredom with school, Catholicism, convention, and Sacramento. She's curious
about sex and mildly intrigued by the drama club, but mostly she feels hemmed
in—especially by her domineering mother, Marion (Laurie Metcalf).
Add social class to the list of things that flatten Lady
Bird's affect. The McPhersons are lower middle class and even that status is
insecure, as father Larry (Tracy Letts) has been laid off and Marion must work
double shifts at the hospital to keep food on the table for a household that
also includes an adopted Latino son, Miguel (Jordan Rodriques) and his live-in
girlfriend. It's the sort of home in which Lady Bird's wardrobe comes from
thrift stores and is reworked by mom. Lady Bird can't help but fantasize about
upper middle class homes or compare her friendship with the chubby math whiz
Julie (Beanie Feldstein) with the cooler haute bourgeoisie social groups. This
too causes grief. What does she want to be, a rebel or a Boho? The only
constant is that she wants to be somewhere else, as her overstretched mother is
hypercritical of everything Lady Bird says, does, or wants.
The film is at its weakest when Gerwig paints by the
numbers. If you know the coming-of-age genre, you know what will ensue:
inappropriate boyfriends and peers, self-discovery in acting, good cop/bad cop
parenting, embarrassing situations, escape, revelation, dawning maturity, and
call it a wrap. There's nothing new here, and the film would be a total wash
were it not for extremely fine acting. At 23, this is probably Ronan's swan song
for a role in which she plays 17 going on 18. That said, Ronan is everything we
hoped she would be when she surfaced as a nine-year-old child actress. She
strikes all the right notes as a confused young person who is smugly self-aware
one moment and a clueless the next. Watch her as she rockets between tough as
nails and vulnerable, or self-absorbed and wounded. Above all, Ronan inhabits
her roles in ways that make us see the character, not her playing a character. The much under-rated Laurie Metcalf is also
superb as a mother who loves her daughter deeply but can't get out of the way
of her own snark. Deep inside she knows she's not doing her best for her
daughter, but she literally lacks the energy to change. Nor can she afford to
lower her guard. Letts is also very good as a depressed but super-mensch dad.
It's too early to evaluate Gretta Gerwig's competence as a
director. For her first film, she chose an unchallenging genre and didn't challenge
herself within it. Inexperience leaks through several seams. In addition to the
dropped 9/11 possibilities, she doesn't give us nearly enough clues about
secondary characters, including those within the McPherson household who presumably
contribute to Lady Bird's discontent. In fact, most of the incidental
characters are more generalized types than distinct personalities. To date, Gerwig's
most distinguishing directorial trait is that she has an eye for choosing
talented leads.
On balance, Lady Bird
is a decent, diverting film but not a memorable one. At its best it induces
flashbacks to times most of us would never wish to relive. If it makes us a bit
more tolerant of those stuck in the middle of the muddle, that's a service of
sorts. The next time you encounter an annoying pack of teens, remember Groucho's
words, smile, and mentally wish them godspeed for delivery from the club.
Rob Weir
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