I will die knowing, Hell, screaming to anyone within earshot that middle school is hands-down the worst stretch of a given person's life. Basically, it's that time when you think you know everything, but you're in fact, a ignorant f--king moron.
But coming in second to eleven, twelve and thirteen, might just be that time directly after college. That segment of life where you realize (or don't realize), that quite clearly, what you used to think was the real world was anything but. You've finished high school, conquered college. You have officially arrived.
At absolutely nowhere.
I barely made it out of my early twenties as it was, and now I gotta watch a bunch of rich assholes play grabass in Central Park? F--k you, and the unicycle you rode in on.
The story, if you can call it that, is shockingly simple. Frances (Greta Gerwig) is a bit of an odd bird, and after her heterosexual life partner
The rest of the film follows Frances from house-to-house, address to address as she searches for the rest of her life. For some of you, it may be as relaxing and relatable as running through the park on a warm summer day in the city, but for me, I was clamoring for a lawn I could tell those damn kids to get off of. Outside of Gerwig's relentless positivity, there wasn't much at all I enjoyed in this 95-minute epic.
Speaking of things that feel a lot longer than they actually are, let's check in with the Yays and Boos. Maybe I should go easy on Frances, as they never really did anything after graduation, either.
|I'll destroy her. And you. And all of it.|
- Someone at some point wanted to move in together and get hairless cats. I think they were speaking literally, but I'm old, so I'm going to applaud the fact that they might be talking about something entirely different.
- Ahoy, sexy!
- The only thing better than a young (though slightly douchey) Adam Driver, is being totally surprised by a young (though slightly douchey) Adam Driver.
- Dividing the film into segments by address was clever and appreciated.
- Really? We're still doing this? - Sophie, apparently able to read my f--king mind
- Benji came off as a bit of a tool, but I certainly dug the girl he was with. And if she's okay with a guy like Benji, well, so you're telling me there's a chance?
- Dude, Hot Chocolate's You Sexy Thing is easily in the Soundtrack Hall of Fame (even if The Full Monty already got it inducted years ago)
- Frances becomes an RA. A shitty one at that. The Yay? My wife used to be an RA...so...yeah. Kind of reaching here, f--k you.
- Alright, the mailbox bit was clever. Fine.
- And finally, as much as I did not enjoy this film, it was certainly pretty to look at at times. The trip to Sacramento, oddly enough, being the standout, despite a visit to Paris (and otherwise being set in New York City).
|Anything? Okay, here goes:|
Why do I hate you so much?
- I had no idea what the Hell was going on initially? Are they friends? Sisters? Lovers? All three?
- Sophie mentions that her boyfriend can only cum when it's on her face. Seems like a giant, jizz-stained red flag, no?
- These people, quite honestly, made me want to scream. Not sure my sleeping family would have appreciated that as my reason for waking them, but I considered it.
- Twenty-seven is old, though.
- Wow, that scene in the bar was beyond cringey. As was the play-fighting bit with Not Sophie. (actually, as uncomfortable as each scene was, I kind of appreciate how much terrible they are, you know?)
- I'm assuming this is intentional, but these f--kers are never, ever listening to each other. It's all a contest of who can sound like the most enlightened adult, despite everyone involved literally being soulless children.
- For the love of God, why would you go to Paris? If you want to impress people, do what the rest of us do, talk a whole bunch of shit. But don't actually do it.
- Getting important messages when you get back to the states? Ouch.
- Aw, all that talk from Sophie...was just that. Talk.
- I should probably watch this movie every Sunday night, as Frances Ha felt like the longest eighty-six minutes of my life.
- And finally, and it almost hurts as I reluctantly pound on these keys, but by the end of my hour-an-a-half with Frances? Well, my rage had transformed into something bordering appreciation. I know, I know...total dick move, I'm aware, but eventually I caved...a bit. Frances, despite being hyper-annoying, is not a bad person. She's just lost...and kind of sad. And compared to the rest of these pricks, she seems like someone you might want to be friends with...dammit.
But those post-college years? Shit, all they lead to is actual adulthood. And even if that goes well, which seems impossible (at least in the current version of United States), the only prize you get for completing adulthood...is the slow embrace of death.
Which considering I'm spending my adulthood IN MIDDLE SCHOOL...
....doesn't sound all that bad.