This is a bunch of post-college New Yorkers. They're smart but too complacent; they mask their anxiety with easy sarcasm and overzealous enthusiasm; the age crisis seems to come early enough that they've changed jobs after job, talked about a relationship, and forced themselves not to settle down. Frances, our protagonist, is also one of them.
But she's not the girls you see in the movies.
She is neither docile and lovable, nor elfy and eccentric to the point of confusion; she is often absent-minded, and occasionally clumsy and maddening; She doesn't understand social politeness and always puts others in a dilemma. She is selfish and reckless and hurts herself unconsciously. Even being a dancer didn't make her elegant, and Frances was more like an overgrown child stumbling down the streets of New York.
She was dumped by her best friend Sophie, fired by the dance troupe, borrowed money to fly to Paris but still at a loss, and even returned to campus to work with the students for summer jobs. "Twenty-seven is very old," everyone was saying.
Growth is a problem, but not only that. "France Ha" captures the goddamn don't know what to do in life. You have a place to live, a living job, and some friends. But you desperately want to escape from it for no reason.
No one has captured life's embarrassing, awkward, unspeakable moments more accurately than Noah Baumbach, and the tragic, self-deceiving situations that lie behind them. His series of autobiographical films are all reminiscent of Richard Yates (always thought Revolutionary Road was a better fit for Baumbach) or Jonathan Franzen's novels.
But Noah Baumbach was extra gentle this time.
Black-and-white images, soundtracks from Godard and Truffaut films, Rohmer-esque dialogue, and Frances’ trip to Paris are inevitably reminiscent of the French New Wave. But unlike New Wave directors who stare at their heroines with intense love and admiration forever - even if Greta Gerwig is his current girlfriend - Baumbach is only restrained and tender. Love, turn on the camera, stand aside, clear any obstacles for her, and perform to the best of her ability.
And Greta Gerwig seems to have liberated Baumbach. His shots have become lighter than ever before, and the texture of the shimmering New York streets is as soft as silk; with David Bowie's "Modern Love", the picture of Frances running on the streets is full of melody. Baumbach also seems less cynical, less neurotic and pain-ridden like "The Squid and the Whale" or "Margo's Wedding," to softly soothe his character.
And in a random and fragmented narrative, New York becomes another protagonist of the story, like Woody Allen's Manhattan.
Vanderbilt Avenue in Brooklyn, a Clinton Hill home, or Chinatown full of hippie teenagers; the F-Line subway that you never miss; there's always a friend who claims to be writing a script for Saturday Night Live; The young man is in an unsuitable relationship with an elite man who works at Goldman Sachs regardless of other people's obstacles; and the withdrawal fee on the ATM machine is as high as 3 US dollars, which makes people have to rush to the next deli, hoping to find something cheaper choose.
Frances' best friend, Sophie, is a woman from a Woody Allen movie, smart, sharp, and without self-pity. Although Frances claims that "we are the same person but with different hair colors", she is always just Sophie's "follower". They, like Annie Hall and Alvy Singer, father and mother in The Squid and the Whale, are hard to guard even in intimate moments, reminding that too much acknowledgment of each other means self-deprecation. Every relationship is not created equal, and friendships between women are even more subtle.
Frances Ha, a romantic film without love. So, even if the ending of the story is as good as a bedtime fairy tale and false, it is still pleasing.
Posted in Universal Screen
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