LADY BIRD (15)
★★★★
SAOIRSE Ronan has deservedly nabbed her third Oscar nomination for her brilliant performance in this clever, funny and emotionally empathetic coming-of-age movie that marks the impressive solo directorial debut of indie icon Greta Gerwig.
Ronan plays Christine “Lady Bird” McPherson, an artistic and precocious 17-year-old growing up in a small Sacramento town in 2002 who must navigate what’s left of her childhood – namely first loves, getting good grades at her Catholic school and maintaining a relationship with her mother, Marion (Laurie Metcalf).
She has a strong ambition to leave the place she’s sick of calling home, seeking pastures new. “I wanna go where culture is, like New York or at least Connecticut or New Hampshire, where writers live in the woods,” she spitefully tells her mother as the two share one of their many car journeys. Her mother retorts that, even if they could afford it, she couldn’t get into those fancy East Coast schools anyway.
At the crux of this understated but still hugely affecting film is that unique relationship between parent and child, specifically mother and daughter, or rather the bitter and raw divide that’s increasing between them as Lady Bird sits on the cusp of adulthood, ready to fly away.
It’s about how the age differences and world-views – naivety born out of hope, cynicism born out of experience – smash into one another as they try to figure out how they’ll move on when they’re not directly in each other’s lives any more. Ronan and Metcalf’s performances beautifully sell that very specific, fraying relationship.
If not exactly autobiographical, Gerwig’s film feels deeply personal, not least functioning as a love letter to her hometown to which she subtly transports us, so that we feel like we’ve known the place ourselves all along. But along with that specificity she also taps into something universal about what it means to grow up – the milestones and small moments alike that define us.
It feels real because the writing doesn’t shy away from the pain and awkwardness and unexpected joys of the life it depicts. The touchstones of the familiar teen drama genre are firmly tackled, from losing your virginity and breaking up with your first love to getting into pointless fights with friends and rebelling against your upbringing, but in a way that never comes off as trite.
Gerwig shines a light on them that feels familiar yet fresh and alive, with as much of a wicked, perceptive and instantly quotable sense of humour as a grasp on textured emotion and the ring of truth. It all adds up to one of the most assured directorial debuts in recent memory.
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