Frances Ha (MA). Director: Noah Baumbach. Starring: Greta Gerwig, Mickey Sumner, Michael Zegen. 86 minutes
I saw Frances Ha on a cold, wet night, in a theatre situated in a discreet concrete warehouse beneath an overpass in South Melbourne. Despite the grim circumstances I left the theatre smiling, though initially unsure quite what to make of what I'd just watched. Two nights later, sitting in a different theatre to see a different film, I saw a trailer for the film and the smile instantly returned. This low-key, low-fi (black-and-white) gem is certainly easy to love.
That's thanks mainly to the character Frances herself, portrayed with warmth and conviction by Gerwig, who also shares a screenwriting credit with director Baumbach. Frances is the archetypal woman-child, late-20s going on 16, prone to impromptu dance routines through the streets of New York, and to play-fighting in the park with her long-time best friend Sophie (Sumner). Gerwig has fun with the character's goofs and gags but is also just soulful enough to win abiding affection for a character who may otherwise have simply been irritating.
When we meet Frances she is clinging to a casual tutoring gig with a dance company, and pining for a permanent (and increasingly unlikely) promotion to the main dance troupe. In an early scene she rejects an invitation to move in with her boyfriend out of loyalty to Sophie, with whom she shares a flat. This effectively ends the relationship, although in his stubborn sulkiness he is slow to grasp it. Frances is sad but like all the obstacles and mishaps life throws at her she tries to take it in her stride. Endless optimism can be wearying work though.
Soon, a betrayal of sorts. Frances and Sophie are intimate almost to co-dependence; a celibate lesbian couple, they joke. But Sophie's career is on the uptick, and she's ready to move on to a trendier neighbourhood, leaving the all-but penniless Frances in her wake. With a new circle of friends and, before long, a new fiancé, Sophie seems to be quickly outgrowing Frances. This parting of the ways throws Frances into disarray. With her bank account drying up and time running out on her dancing dream, she, too, must find new friends and paths.
This is far from some maudlin or romanticised paean to the archetypal Struggling Artist living in New York, even though it shares some of that pedigree. Frances' dejection is palpable,