I’m curious how people who can’t relate to Lady Bird will interpret it. They will see a good, well thought-out film with a very intentional and inspired script. But will they be able to see the deceiving magnitude of this small story? Filled with scenarios that may seem random and non-cohesive, but actually aren’t, coming together to serve a symbiotic purpose in the end. There are films, like Get Out, where seemingly random events take place and you obviously know they will all come together in the end. Whereas Lady Bird has these events that seem more like they’re organically just telling a story. And we smile when we realize their purpose. Or perhaps consciously we won’t. And that’s where director Greta Gerwig’s brilliance shines best here.
Saoirse Ronan plays Christine, AKA Lady Bird, a high school senior who is still discovering how to rebel against her mother, with an attitude that’s oddly reminiscent of Claire Danes’ Angela Chase. Amongst the unpopular kids, she’s a little edgier and worldly, but with the popular kids, she’s obviously out-of-place.
Attending Catholic school, Lady Bird toys with liberal ideas for the sake of them being liberal ideas. Often times liking the concept of their existence rather than actually having a full grasp of them–haphazard arguments and all.
Personally, I find the film extremely relatable. Growing up Catholic at Catholic schools in liberal California, most of my friends no longer practice their faith–or never have. From talks with many of them, I know that, although they’ve strayed, it’s something that stays with them in their hearts and their conscience.
Lady Bird is also Catholic by upbringing only. Basically. The disciplines learned. The idea of sacrifice. When she’s in the comfort of her school and her family, she rebels against it, but once she leaves and is no longer encapsulated in it, she’s able to better understand it all and grow from it–actually using it as a remedy for her homesickness.
A huge part of the movie is Lady Bird’s relationship with her mother, eloquently played by Laurie Metcalf. Metcalf’s character is a study of neurotic OCD before it was trendy (the film takes place in 2002). She has an obvious complex. Outwardly, her daughter can never do good enough. She mirrors her own insecurities onto Lady Bird, often insulting the way she walks or dresses. To everyone else, it’s obviously some sort of deep-rooted jealousy, but if you called her out on it, she’d probably say she doesn’t do any of it at all. She’s a true nuisance. Yet she has so much vulnerability that you still seem to love her. And Gerwig shows her in a way only capable of being shown by someone who’s loved someone just like this in her own life. Perhaps.
The film and the narrative have an extremely indie feel to it. The script is poignant, but sometimes a little too expository. A result of the raw disjointedness that comes with the genre’s territory.
Lady Bird may feel like many other films, but the beauty of it is that once you dig deep, it’s not. It’s largely about the title character and her mother, yes, but it also makes you pay attention to those around them. Gerwig creates all these little subplots within this universe. They don’t all necessarily have a direct impact on the main storyline, but they all help to serve a greater purpose. They shape Lady Bird’s life and give it a bigger meaning. While as teenagers, we think the world revolves around us, we (hopefully) realize as we get older that it definitely doesn’t. Gerwig reminds us of that. The best line in the movie is, “Don’t you think, maybe, they are the same thing? Love and attention?” Well said. And a good reminder these days.
The Twizard 