Frances Ha (2013)

Interconnection is what lies at the heart of Noah Baumbach’s triumphant Frances Ha, and as Baumbach posits, at the heart of life itself. A film that is equally riveting and hard to watch, profound and yet silly, Frances Ha is a story about the challenges of finding a life you can live with, and what it takes to find someone with which to spend it.

Frances (the endlessly charming Greta Gerwig) and Sophie (Mickey Sumner) have been best friends since college. Moving to New York City after they graduated, the duo spends most of their days together completing a series of secretive and silly routines from which they derive untold, personal meaning. Frances and Sophie “are the same person, but with different hair,” as Frances bluntly puts it. Inside jokes are spoken like interjections of a foreign language, only Sophie and Frances can understand. Baumbach intently focuses the exposition of his film on this, very important, relationship. None of the jokes are explained, and neither are their “rituals,” but the connection that Gerwig and Sumner emit is so pure that no heavy-handedness or explanatory dialogue is necessary – Baumbach points his camera (the discussion of the talent behind this pointing will happen later), and lets the magic of the relationship speak for itself. Frances is one of the last “poor” artists in New York, an apprentice dancer at a floundering dance company, and Sophie has lofty dreams of journalism, quickly working her way through the ranks of Reuters. As with most post-collegiate relationships, Frances and Sophie’s interdependence is slowly withering, and Sophie cannot pass up an opportunity to move to TriBeCa. “Alone” and unavailing in her dreams of becoming a famous dancer, Frances must come to terms with adult life, and learn to judge success based on her own happiness, and not the perceived happiness of those around her.

Noah Baumbach tells his story in isolated chunks of time, with little or no explanation of events in between. Although he relies heavily upon the improvisational talent of Gerwig and fellow talented actors (Adam Driver and Michael Zegen deliver fantastic performances as the male Frances/Sophie counterparts), Baumbach has an incredible talent for showcasing minute details that quickly move a story along, and provide valuable information in little more than a glance. When Frances leaves the city for a summer, she packs all of her belongings into a storage unit, save for a chair, which she cannot fit. Leaving a note to the effect of “Totally normal chair. Wouldn’t fit in storage unit. Needs a good home,” the words summarize Frances perfectly. Not only does this expose her as someone who seeks validity from complete strangers (in the form of someone taking her used chair), it is a simple metaphor for Frances herself – unable to fit within the bounds of her friends’ lives and looking for a good home.

Baumbach’s distinguished ability to bring his script (penned alongside Gerwig) to magnificent life is present in nearly every shot composition. Alongside from his ability to pinpoint specific character details, Baumbach highlights tiny, yet important aspects of every day life. Baumbach captures areas of New York areas (reminiscent of what Woody Allen did with Manhattan) that are important to his character’s lives. Cramped eclectic apartments, subway signage, countless landmarks along the street – Baumbach shows what New York means to him. Borrowing from Jim Jarmusch, Baumbach loves to play in the space between lightness and dark. Using black and white and an inexpensive Canon DSLR, Baumbach can skew his contrast to illuminate very specific objects within a frame. In a cab on the way home from a party, Baumbach moves his camera from outside the cab, to a close-up of Sophie’s face, obscured by darkness except for the clearly defined outline of her glasses. Not only does this shot provide beautiful imagery, Baumbach pans down to reveal a sleeping Frances, being coddled by her best friend; Sophie will always be there when she needs her.

The acting in Frances Ha is superb, and is only elevated by Gerwig and Baumbach’s improvisational script. Allowing the actors to play within their space, the script seems only to serve as a rough guide to lead the narrative along a defined path, yet leaves character development up to the performers. Frances is able to swing, almost effortlessly, from helplessly inept to the life of the party. Incredibly saddened by the progress of her best friend, yet unflinchingly determined to achieve her dreams, Frances must inhabit the duel role of hesitant cheerleader and frivolous optimist. Other characters are simply around to build Frances up, or ruthlessly tear her down; in either case, their effect is unknown to them, as their self-obsessive lives only revolve around their own problems. Frances is constantly battling to connect with others, whether on a comedic, superficial level, or a deeply conscious life-altering way. Going so far as to vocalize her life’s aspiration, Frances eloquently postulates, “It’s that thing when you’re with someone, and you love them and they know it, and they love you and you know it. But it’s a party, and you’re both talking to other people, and you’re laughing and shining. And you look across the room and catch each other’s eyes, but not because you’re possessive, or it’s precisely sexual, but because, that is your person in this life.”

Wonderful performances by Greta Gerwig and other equally-talented performers are profoundly elevated by carefully considered direction and stunning cinematography. An affecting and thoughtful look at finding a path through the awkward stages of life, Frances Ha is a deeply moving, and rapturously funny film – and one that makes facing the future that much more bearable.