Movie Review: The Hilarious, Honest "Lady Bird" Is a Perfect Movie

Lady Bird asks the cinematic question, "How baller can one movie be?" And then it answers it emphatically: "Very baller."

Writer-director Greta Gerwig has achieved something magical in the hilarious Lady Bird: She introduced me to a fictional character that instantly became one of my favourite people. And I mean, out of people I actually—tangibly—know. There is no Oscar for that category, but there should be, and the Academy should scratch "hella tight" onto its tiny podium, in honour of the film’s 2002 setting.

That person is Christine "Lady Bird" McPherson (Saoirse Ronan), and the picture tracks her final year at a Catholic high school in Sacramento, California. She demands to be called “Lady Bird”, explaining it’s her given name: She gave it to herself, after all. As you’d imagine, Lady Bird does things her way, butting up against her alternately understanding, infuriating parents (Laurie Metcalf, Tracy Letts) and her teachers, enrolling in extra-curricular activities outside of her expertise in the hopes of getting to an East Coast university outside of her parents’ income bracket. The goal: To get the hell away from them. No offence?

In one year, she finds two loves (Lucas Hedges, Timothée Chalamet), and bounces between best friends (Beanie Feldstein, Odeya Rush). She’s impetuous and stormy, and funny and well-meaning. She’s wonderful company, somehow. Ronan’s performance here trumps even her work in Hanna and Brooklyn. We knew she had range, though this is something else. In Lady Bird, Ronan’s prickly charm takes her into the realm of the iconic. Her idiosyncratic pink-arm cast will help fawning cosplayers pay tribute on Halloween.

Last decade, Greta Gerwig willed her career into existence by co-writing and directing intensely personal, low-key classics of the mumblecore genre. (Admittedly, it’s hard to distinguish the classics from the rest, especially considering she, Joe Swanberg and the Duplass Brothers were almost the only ones making them.) That same enthusiasm has been instilled in the lead character of her first effort as a director in ten years. Behind the camera, she's confident and fleet-footed; scenes don't overstay their welcome, and Lady Bird leaves its memorable mark in only 90 minutes. Adolescence goes by just as quickly, Lady Bird learns.

The flick is a spiritual sibling to Frances Ha (which Gerwig starred in, and co-wrote with Noah Baumbach). If Gerwig has a secret power as a filmmaker, it’s the capacity to flood audiences with compassion for complicated, flawed, endearing protagonists. Gerwig is supremely lovable on screen, and she knows how to translate that ethereal trait to the characters she creates with her pen, and the actors she directs.

Saoirse’s not the only recipient of Gerwig’s generosity. Hedges and Feldstein are sympathetic foils to Ronan on-screen; the three of them only half-formed people who are built piece by piece, in painful fashion, only after facing the crucibles of teenagerdom. The adults are half-formed and growing as well: Letts is warm as the amiable, depressive father seeking a new job, while Metcalf is brilliantly spiky as the devoted, volcanic mother. They both force grins through their daughter's terrible high school production, like real troopers. And Chalamet—who already gave one of last year’s most devastating turns in Call Me By Your Name—is gut-bustingly self-serious as the ‘dangerous’ socialist boyfriend who takes a book to every social occasion. There is too much truth in this art.

Jon Brion’s cautiously optimistic score (in which organs meet woodwinds, and guitars strum melancholy hymns) complements the stained-glass surrounds of Lady Bird’s school. (The film is otherwise awash in a nostalgic glow.) The other period details—okay, little has changed in 15 years except for the hair and the puka shell necklaces—are truly transporting. And yet, Lady Bird is current and emotionally honest and perfect. It should also return "hella tight" to the national lexicon. That would be just one of its many valuable contributions to culture.

5/5

In Australian cinemas 15 February, 2018. Rated M for mature themes, coarse language and a sex scene.

Photo: A24