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Watched: 26 February

The very best coming-of-age movies – and this widely-celebrated effort by Greta Gerwig is probably the best American take on the genre since Boyhood – find time to explore child-parent relationships as well as the usual high-school-centric flirtations with disaster. In Lady Bird, a semi-autobiographical work set in Sacramento, California in 2002, the dynamics that exist between main college-bound protagonist Christine ‘Lady Bird’ McPherson (Saoirse Ronan), her mother Marion (Laurie Metcalf) and her father Larry (Tracey Letts) are examined in a way that feels satisfying to me, though I do wonder whether this is the case simply because we get fly-on-the-wall/car window access to a few heated arguments that Marion and Lady Bird – two characters cut from the same cloth and unable to back down – have with each other; the dialogue within these rows is well written, and believable, and although it’s never comfortable watching people argue, even in a fictional film, these exchanges really do feel like they’re taking place between people who have spent 17 years in each other’s company.

I found Lady Bird’s family ties more intriguing than the up-and-down-and-up-again friendship she has with best mate Julie (Beanie Feldstein) and the two brief romances she enters into with fellow students (Lucas Hedges, Timothée Chalamet), purely because the very best scenes here – and thus the most memorable – involve Lady Bird and her parents. In one, after a heated exchange with Marion in a car over college applications, Lady Bird throws herself out of a moving vehicle, breaking her arm by doing so. Later, in a heart-wrenching finale, the main character is set to move to New York only to be given the cold shoulder at the airport by Marion, who interprets the move as a personal slight and stubbornly refuses to go to the departure gate. Marion goes through a range of emotions in a short space of time, as does her departing daughter, and the whole episode is acted with finesse.

The film mirrors life: it’s funny, it’s sad, suburban teenage life is Ghost World-y, all car park listlessness and dreams of elsewhere, the main character is embarrassed by certain aspects of her upbringing (her home, her friend) and seeks to promote a sleeker, ‘better’ version of herself by lying about where she lives and seeking the approval of a supposedly cooler, aloof classmate. (Anyone that has watched a movie about American teenagers from the Hughes years onwards knows how all of that pans out, but it’s still a fairly common teenage mistake, right?)

I was drawn in by the acting and screenplay, and one of the main reasons I’d like to watch Lady Bird again at a later date is that I didn’t really take much note of other aspects of the film; the cinematography I think is good, the rhythm of the movie seemed to be a plus, the soundtrack is probably worth more of my concentration, and though the exploration of Catholicism and education is hardly rigorous I’m sure there’s lots there that I’ve missed too. (****½)