In case you haven’t heard, the new film Lady Bird has nothing to do with LBJ. Or Texas. Or female birds. It has everything to do with family and growing up and relationships and love and meanness and gentleness, and, well, I think you’re getting the idea. And I bet you’re not surprised to learn that I see this as a stand-out film for the year.
Lady Bird covers the senior year of the title character, Lady Bird, that name having been chosen by her to replace her given name. She’s 17, after all. She’s pushing the limits of parents. She’s pushing the limits of authority. She’s trying to identify herself with herself. And life at home is not particularly easy or pretty. Don’t get me wrong: life is not Moonie’s mother in The Florida Project difficult or ugly. But we have struggles here that usually scar deeper than mere poverty that we saw in those other families in The Florida Project.
The family in Lady Bird is that more typical lower-middle-class family a lot of mainstream folks are familiar with. They have a home, they have a car. But a parent is out of work and the other works overtime double shifts to make up for that. They shop at a thrift store. An adult son lies at home with a girlfriend. They get by, but they just get by. Barely. But the economic situation is merely an extra cast member here. This isn’t the focus. The focus here is Lady Bird and all those to whom and with whom she relates.
As a film, Lady Bird shines because of those relationships. It is in the nuances of these relationships where we find meaning. Granted, watching the breadth of these relationships and Lady Bird’s experiences in the span of a couple of hours in a film can seem unrealistic at first blush. But if you step back and think about these things all happening over the course of a year, of a senior year in high school when most of us change so much while we test our wings and the safety of the nest and the strength of the limbs we step out on, these relationships and experiences in Lady Bird work.
This is Lady Bird’s beauty: these nuanced relationships not only define us, but we define ourselves through them. The performances by every single cast member accentuate that on such a level as to make seamless the transition of watching Lady Bird’s year to comparing it to our own faulty memories of the feelings of that time in our lives when we were struggling to figure out who we were, who we had been, who we wanted to be, how our family fit in the picture, how to forgive our family for their misgivings, and what friendships and intimate relationships meant. Yes, that is a LOT for anyone, but most of us go through that when we are but 17. Take a superbly written script, spot-on direction, and impeccable acting: this is life.
I say that every role is performed with brilliance. But somehow I must leave room to let the two stars shine brighter. Saoirse Ronan (as Lady Bird) and Laurie Metcalf (as her mother) make this film what it is. These two perfectly capture the intricacies of mother-daughter struggles when mother comes from a dark and difficult past, when communication is strained and false then genuine then meant to only undermine the other. (And thank you, Saturday Night Live, as Saoirse Ronan was the guest host the night I saw the film. I watched her opening bit after I got home, and she had the cutest song she sang to teach us how to pronounce her name. Finally, after falling delightedly for this Irish lass after watching Brooklyn, I can properly say her name. 😉 )
The story of Lady Bird’s senior year is interesting. But it borders on common. Remember, though, the story is not the point. It’s all in those relationships and the beauty in the words and how they are spoken and acted that make this film a gem.