“I’m so embarrassed. I’m not a real person yet.”
With Greta Gerwig‘s recent success in the form of Lady Bird and her upcoming take on Little Women scheduled for release later this year, I recently rewatched the delightful 2012 film Frances Ha. Directed by talented indie film-maker Noah Baumbach, Gerwig’s exceptional writing and acting talent are on full display in this black and white comedy-drama set in New York City.
Ah, your 20’s. A stretch of time full of endless optimism and wonder, and at the same time, equally full of disappointment and uncertainty. You’re a fully grown adult – yet sometimes you don’t feel like one – and adolescence seems like eons ago, though you don’t feel all that different. For many, this is a time to either continue with youthful hopes and ambitions or otherwise lower expectations and settle with the hope of fulfilling adult responsibilities and financial security.
Meanwhile, relationships change and evolve and some even drift away entirely, making the adjustment to adulthood even more challenging. As someone currently experiencing this fluctuating part of life’s journey, I have found that Frances Ha perfectly represents these complexities in a way that has rarely been executed so accurately before in film.
Greta Gerwig is Frances, a 27-year old dancer and college graduate who’s forever between jobs and can’t seem to catch a break in order to advance her career in choreography. She is anxious, passionate, and at times even a little neurotic. The narrative primarily revolves around her relationship with her best friend and roommate Sophie.
Initially, they spend their time reading to each other, dreaming of the future, play-fighting (depicted in one of the best scenes of the film), and smoking out the windows of their small apartment. However, conflict arises when Sophie suddenly decides to move in with another friend at the end of their lease and begins dating Patch – a conventional man, not quite interesting enough in the eyes of Frances.
The Power of Friendship
Frances and Sophie’s relationship is a testament to the intensely strong yet complicated world of female friendships. Their dynamic is closer to that of sisters where nothing is off-limits, meaning there is freedom to call each other out and tell it like it is without fear of overstepping boundaries that are common in “normal” friendships.
In this case, we see them openly explore and share their opinions on relationship issues, literature, art, and life. Their willingness to laugh at and with each other, give advice (whether it is solicited or otherwise), and share in the highs and lows of each other’s lives is portrayed with sincerity and heart. It makes Frances’ reaction to their ‘break-up’ completely understandable.
Unfortunately, losing friends isn’t talked about nearly as much as it should be. Though undeniably awful, relationship breakups are more often concrete, final, and come with a sense of closure about change in the dynamic and the cause for its breakdown. You either agree to remain friends or instead decide to go your separate ways and live your life in their absence.
On the other hand, friendship breakups are often confusing and not explicitly voiced; as time goes by, both sides are left wondering what went wrong – wanting to reach out but not knowing what to say. On top of this uncertainty, losing a close friend can be just as heartbreaking as losing a romantic relationship.
In the film, we can see this with how Frances deals with the relationship breakdown between her and Sophie. Their lives begin to head in different directions and their limited time now spent together becomes one-sided. Frances can barely afford to pay rent to her new roommates Benji and Lev, is continuously knocked back in her attempts to further her dance career, and any attempts at romantic interactions go awkwardly awry.
Meanwhile, Sophie moves in with her boyfriend Patch and achieves her goal of working for a successful publishing company. Eventually, their friendship reaches a breaking point during a night out after one of Frances’ dance performances, and Frances drunkenly unloads her frustrations.
Co-dependency in relationships is also presented through their friendship; it is clear from the beginning that Frances is willing to alter her life for Sophie and place her at the forefront of every decision, whilst Sophie’s independent nature allows her the confidence to make her own priorities of top importance. Not unlike Abbi and Ilana of Broad City, their co-dependancy on each other results in toxic and unnecessary sacrifices at times that, once addressed, allow their lives to flourish and their own identities to be rediscovered.
All of this is eloquently and expertly written by Greta Gerwig, whose performance as Frances feels real, lived in, and relatable. Gerwig and Baumbach’s writing of dialogue is natural and witty, the situations in which she places her characters are relatable, and New York City is magically represented through enchanting tracking shots and the subtle yet powerful music of legendary french composer Georges Delerue.
Young Adult Struggles
Though the film was met with much critical acclaim, reading the online discourse surrounding the film resulted in some interesting discussions regarding the character of Frances, with some audiences finding her a sub-par protagonist and her need to be liked simply insufferable. Alongside this criticism, some found the film’s focus on “first world problems” completely frustrating.
To its credit, the film shows self-awareness regarding this through this interaction between Frances and Benji:
Frances: Do you know that I’m actually poor?
Benji: You aren’t poor. There are poor people. You aren’t one of them.
Frances: Yes…but it’s…I mean, you’d feel poor if you had as little money as I do.
Benji: But you’re not poor. That’s offensive to actual poor people.
For the most part, these are criticisms of the character and not the film itself. Like many young adults struggling financially and mentally, Frances is often unwilling to ask for help and continuously withholds her struggles and embellishes her small successes to those closest to her out of embarrassment and shame.
We see this with her relationship with her obviously loving parents that she desperately wants to avoid disappointing. On top of this perpetual deceit towards those she cares about, Frances constantly makes excuses for herself and fails to acknowledge the reality of her situation in order to make logical decisions, and is instead impulsive and reckless.
Whilst it is impossible to completely dismiss these criticisms of the film’s main character as invalid, the film also seems aware of what it is; this isn’t supposed to be an earth-shattering exploration of human suffering, but rather a simple character study of an everyday, white, middle-class woman struggling with her identity.
Perhaps these criticisms are also derived from the film’s perceived pretentiousness; the use of black and white and the hipster, artsy characters and overall vibe is quite obviously not for everyone. At its core, though, it’s a story about a young creative mind unwilling to negotiate and daring to dream of a future they once believed possible.
Have you seen Frances Ha? What did you like or dislike about it? Let us know in the comments below!
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