[Over the last three or four
weeks, I have been asked my opinion of two current films more than any others.
They are Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (a.k.a. Three Billboards) and Lady
Bird. As I am pretty backed up
with movies to see and write about at the moment, here is a relatively short
(for me) review of Lady Bird. My review of ThreeBillboards was published a couple days ago.)
As you know, I am a big fan of bildungsroman movies. Well,
the good ones, anyway, such as Rebel Without A Cause (1955), The 400
Blows (1959), American Graffiti
(1973), Girl, Interrupted (1999), Stand By Me (1986), the recent Boyhood (2014) and Moonlight (2016), among others. Despite my relatively advanced age,
there’s a part of me that still identifies with that period of life where I’m
trying to figure out who I am, be responsible, socially and sexually connect
without embarrassing myself – in short, how to be an adult. We’ve all been
through it in one form or another.
Two new movies out this season are candidates for the
Society of Great Coming-of-age Films: Call Me By Your Name
(written by James Ivory, directed by Luca Guadagnino), which will be the
subject of my next review, and Lady Bird, written and directed by
Greta Gerwig, the subject of this one.
Let me start by saying I’ve been a fan of Greta Gerwig for
years. She’s one of those special actors who, in a variety of different roles,
manages to completely and credibly inhabit her character and at the same time remain
herself – like Dianne Keaton did in the late 1970s (e.g. Annie Hall). Neither Keaton
nor Gerwig plays her actual self, of course, but a character with certain
recognizable, trademark qualities – a look, an attitude. In Gerwig’s case these qualities include total
sincerity, an endearing awkwardness, and a relatable girl-next-door style of
“everyman”. Gerwig has been co-author of some of her best films as an actress, including Frances Ha (2012) and Mistress America (2015). But she stays
behind the camera in Lady Bird.
This makes sense, particularly since Lady Bird is a
semi-kinda-sorta autobiographical depiction of a high school senior in 2002
Sacramento, California (Gerwig’s hometown) and Gerwig is now 34. It was a bit
of a gamble, in fact, that she cast Saoirse Ronan, who was 22 when the picture
was filmed, to play the 17 to 18-year-old protaganist. Ronan [Hanna (2011), Brooklyn (2015)] does a great job inhabiting the persona of young
Christine (who calls herself Lady Bird) as she navigates the perilous waters of
an adolescent on the verge of adulthood, and the age issue did not come up for
this viewer. To the extent that she represents a version of the teenage Gerwig,
the shoe fits quite well – the behavioral resemblance is clear and fine. The
seamless way she does this reminded me of how smoothly Owen Wilson was able to
meld so many Woody Allen characteristics into his role as Gil in Midnight In Paris (2011), without ever
crossing into caricature. 
The story arc is not unusual for this sort of film, except
perhaps for the fact that Gerwig makes no effort to throw any sensationalistic adventures into the story. Instead she concentrates on the subjective emotional experiences of a teen going through relatively commonplace events (which in her hands become captivatingly fresh) – first sex, quarrels with her mother, finding a boyfriend, trying to fit in, trying to be different, the desire to be loved and accepted for who she is - whatever that means, hoping to get into the right college. What makes Lady Bird special – and it is
special – has to do with Gerwig’s witty, true-to-life, sometimes excruciating,
always believable screenplay; her deft touch as a director – for pacing, tone,
dialogue, movement; and some great performances by her talented cast.
Saoirse (pronounced
Sur-sha) Ronan is, as I’ve said, excellent – ok, I’ll say it, just perfect
– in the title role as a girl filled with yearning, ambition, insecurity, and a
mess of contradictions. She’s so endearing that even when she acts badly –
which she surely does at times – we love and forgive her. Wouldn’t surprise me
at all if Ronan gets an Oscar nomination (The Golden Globes and Screen Actors
Guild have already done so).
She is abetted by the supporting work of Laurie Metcalf,
best known for her role as Jackie, the neurotic sister on Roseanne (1988 – 97), as Lady Bird’s mother – who also happens to be
neurotic in a bitter, nothing-is-ever-good-enough way. And she has a lot on her
plate to worry about, including but by no means limited to her frequently
exasperating daughter. Lady Bird’s teen self-absorption pushes Mom’s buttons
and vice versa, all of which leads both to some of the funniest and some of
the most heartbreaking scenes in the movie. Through all of this, Metcalf brings
a total truth to her intense, anxious character. This, too, is a likely award
winning performance.
The rest of the ensemble is also excellent. Lucas Hedges [Manchester By The Sea (2016), Three Billboards (2017)] plays Danny, a
popular boy with whom Lady Bird forms a special connection, threatened for some fundamental reasons; Timothée Chalamet [Call Me By Your Name (2017)] is Kyle, a self-consciously hip guy in
an underground-styled band, to whom Lady Bird attaches herself; Beanie Feldstein
(great name, what?) as Lady Bird’s not hip, but quite loyal BFF, and 86-year
old Lois Smith (who shines so brightly in 2017’s most unheralded great movie, Valerie Prime) as Sister Sarah Joan, a school
counselor who provides a bit of comfort and wisdom to Lady Bird, when she needs
it most.
Having read A O Scott’s NY
Times review in which he praises Lady
Bird and concludes that it is “perfect”, I was expecting some sort of knock-your-socks-off
picture and so, for the first few minutes, I was a bit underwhelmed. Lady Bird is not flashy or
hyper-stylish. Its excellence lies in its sincerity, its honest portrayal of
the travails of late adolescence, it’s beautiful performances, and its lovely evocation
of a special time and place for writer/director Gerwig – Sacramento as she
experienced it herself as a high school senior.This is a small but delicious film that sticks to your ribs.
94 minutes
Grade: A+
In general release.
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