Noah Baumbach's Frances Ha was exactly the kind of film that I needed to see at this point in my life. At first, I feared it was going to be another blasé indie drama about rich white twentysomethings living in New York City. And having watched Lena Dunham's Tiny Furniture (2010), I was in no mood for it. But Frances Ha took me completely by surprise. It follows a habitually-unemployed dancer named Frances Halladay who jostles from one apartment and roommate to another. Her best friend Sophie leaves her to move to Tokyo with her boyfriend. Alone, her life slowly crumbles into a mess of depression and loneliness. But after a trip home to see her parents in Sacramento, she starts to rebuild everything that had fallen apart. And, astonishingly, she discovers that everybody else's "perfect lives" may not have been so perfect after all. If I sound like I'm being vague, that's intentional. Frances Ha is a film of impossibly intimate snippets snatched from the most painfully awkward, unbearably uncomfortable, searingly honest, and emotionally naked moments in the life of one young woman. To recount them here would do them no justice. Part of that has to do with Baumbach's expert directing. His use of montage to depict both the passage of time and the inner struggles of his characters is stunning. The aforementioned scene in Sacramento hit so close to home that I felt like I was an undergrad college student taking refuge at my parents' house for the holidays again. To not mention Greta Gerwig's performance as Frances would be criminal. Her portrayal was nothing short of a revelation, managing to keep us feeling sympathetic with a character even as she was sabotaging her own life and relationships. Let me be honest for a moment: I only heard about Frances Ha because many of my close friends declared it the best movie of the year. After seeing it, I have to agree. It may not capture the complete zeitgeist of my generation. But it definitely captures a sizable chunk of it.
9/10
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