Frances HaIn the beginning, life was good for Frances Halladay (Greta Gerwig) and her close friend, Sophie (Mickey Sumner). The two of them would play fight in Central Park, drink wine on the balcony of their apartment, and confide to one another their embarrassing and sordid details about their love lives--well, Sophie's--and other kind of things that young women share with one another when guys aren't around messing things up. But one day, Sophie moves in with someone else, and Frances finds that she can't stand to live alone, but more importantly, can't stand being without her dear friend, and things start to unravel.
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Director Noah Baumbach's Frances Ha follows in the tradition of other New York City character studies in neurosis made famous by Woody Allen. Co-written alongside star Greta Gerwig, Frances slowly goes from a quaintly dependent awkward type toward something a small step away from either a bag lady or a "could have been" serving coffee at a Denny's. Still--and maybe it's a thing about movies set in NYC with a backdrop of bourgeois, hipster and upper crust supporting characters--but Frances remains the most endearing and likable...nay, virtually only likable denizen of the film, with maybe the exception of her dance company's lead, who still isn't empathetic enough to catch on when she derails Fran's dreams of being a company dancer with an offer as a secretary. In all fairness, the position would give her more time for choreography, and she recognizes that Frances has a real talent for it. But betwixt this and Sophie abandoning her, Frances has a hard time getting her footing, first rooming with a couple of rich artist-type boys, in their apartment cluttered with oh-so-trendy LPs et al, which Sophie observes is "very aware of itself". And when Frances finds she can't front the portion of the apartment's rent, she bounces from place to place, trying to find a home where she can belong. But the problem for Frances is that she's still so unsure of herself, doesn't really know where she fits in regards to her own life, that she flounders, spending the majority of the film on a downward slope into mediocrity and wasted talent.
I'll be honest, I wouldn't want to spend time with nearly any of the people in this movie, with the exception of Frances, who is both so ebullient and vulnerable, charming and awkward simultaneously, that maybe that's why everyone else looks like a conceited prick in comparison. That's not really a criticism of the movie, but rather it is a stylistic choice, necessitating that we sympathize with the altogether benevolent dancer (who doesn't do much dancing, as she proclaims at a dinner party with her new roomie's snobby fam), and frankly hope that she'll get her act together, since she makes some unfortunate decisions--not tragic, but problematic--dodging responsibility for her predicament, and not coping with the absence of her dear friend, whom she has become dependent upon. Perhaps my favorite part of Frances Ha is when she goes home to Sacramento for Christmas with her family, because it is so full of authenticity, filled with snapshots of her holiday festivities with her family and West Coast loved ones. Frances and her parents do small things like take down the lights and go shopping for pants. There is very little dialogue--which is okay, because I was getting sick of her New York comrades spouting pithy and droll one-liners--but the vignette is edited tightly and flashes by almost like you would recall a trip back home to see the folks to be: over before you know it, with only the recollections to remind you of the time. The contrast illuminates where Frances' soul resides, and what home means for her. Aside from this, the most satisfying moments in the film are when Frances is dancing, and it is clear that this is her passion, that she is filled with life and free when her body is in motion. Dancing down the streets, dancing in her living space, even when she dances upon demand by snotty urbanites, this is her, which makes it all the more painful when she slips farther from her dreams into mundane jobs like pouring wine for a detestable politician while living out of a dorm room at her alma mater. The odyssey of Frances is one of self-discovery and self-fulfillment, establishing one's self away from being a latch-on friend and finding out how to live when things don't always go the way you want. It's a tale of maintaining one's heart while struggling with really growing up...an important lesson, indeed.
Recommended for: Fans of late-blooming coming-of-age tales in the big city, "following your dreams, but stumbling on the way", kinda stuff. And a story about becoming independent of your emotional crutches and standing on your own two feet...even if you're dancing while you do it.
I'll be honest, I wouldn't want to spend time with nearly any of the people in this movie, with the exception of Frances, who is both so ebullient and vulnerable, charming and awkward simultaneously, that maybe that's why everyone else looks like a conceited prick in comparison. That's not really a criticism of the movie, but rather it is a stylistic choice, necessitating that we sympathize with the altogether benevolent dancer (who doesn't do much dancing, as she proclaims at a dinner party with her new roomie's snobby fam), and frankly hope that she'll get her act together, since she makes some unfortunate decisions--not tragic, but problematic--dodging responsibility for her predicament, and not coping with the absence of her dear friend, whom she has become dependent upon. Perhaps my favorite part of Frances Ha is when she goes home to Sacramento for Christmas with her family, because it is so full of authenticity, filled with snapshots of her holiday festivities with her family and West Coast loved ones. Frances and her parents do small things like take down the lights and go shopping for pants. There is very little dialogue--which is okay, because I was getting sick of her New York comrades spouting pithy and droll one-liners--but the vignette is edited tightly and flashes by almost like you would recall a trip back home to see the folks to be: over before you know it, with only the recollections to remind you of the time. The contrast illuminates where Frances' soul resides, and what home means for her. Aside from this, the most satisfying moments in the film are when Frances is dancing, and it is clear that this is her passion, that she is filled with life and free when her body is in motion. Dancing down the streets, dancing in her living space, even when she dances upon demand by snotty urbanites, this is her, which makes it all the more painful when she slips farther from her dreams into mundane jobs like pouring wine for a detestable politician while living out of a dorm room at her alma mater. The odyssey of Frances is one of self-discovery and self-fulfillment, establishing one's self away from being a latch-on friend and finding out how to live when things don't always go the way you want. It's a tale of maintaining one's heart while struggling with really growing up...an important lesson, indeed.
Recommended for: Fans of late-blooming coming-of-age tales in the big city, "following your dreams, but stumbling on the way", kinda stuff. And a story about becoming independent of your emotional crutches and standing on your own two feet...even if you're dancing while you do it.