Frances Ha: the movie that taught me being a chaotic 20-something is OK
Frances Ha is a timeless black-and-white exploration of growing older, friendship and identity that every 20-something should watch when in need of comfort amid the chaos.
2012 was the year. Greta Gerwig is a rising star, teaming up for the second time with writer-director (later lover) Noah Baumbach on their second project following their first collaboration on his film Greenberg (2010). Frances Ha enters the cultural zeitgeist. All is well in the world.
It's now 2024. Greta Gerwig is a writer-director-actor-coming-of-age extraordinaire with the critically acclaimed films Lady Bird (2017), Little Women (2019) and Barbie (2023) under her belt. Frances Ha is now as old as I was when it was initially released, and I eerily see myself in the character of Frances (Gerwig). Everything has gone tits up.
Whatever they put in the water once you turn 20 needs to be studied. Initially, it's misleading; Crushes still take up too much brain space, and procrastination doesn't fade. But one day, your breasts get bigger, hips wider, and you realize second puberty is a thing. You are an adult (biologically) but feel more like a child than ever before. Who am I? becomes a cyclical chant that refuses to budge. It can feel hellish and suffocatingly isolating. Watching Frances Ha, a decade on, taught me that this is a universal 20-something experience and that maybe it'll all be okay.
Dear best friend, please don't break my heart. Sincerely, Me.
Frances lives in a Brooklyn apartment with her college best friend, Sophie. They smoke too many cigarettes out their window, pee in public together, and hope to conquer the world hand in hand. They stuck together during one of the most chaotic periods of one's life (college), so obviously, they must be joined at the hip forever more. Or so Frances thinks, until Sophie (Mickey Sumner) breaks the news, and simultaneously Frances' heart, when she announces that she is moving to Tribeca. Frances, who broke up with her so-so boyfriend because she refused to move in with him, as she wanted to remain living with Sophie, feels betrayed and heartsick. The true love of her life is moving on sans her, and she's static.
This is true heartbreak. My best friend is also the love of my life. When they moved and left the country, away from me, my heart shattered as did Frances' in that moment. I, too, suffered the loss worse than any romantic breakup. This love that comes with friendship is the purest form of adoration. Their successes are yours, and their failures are painfully shouldered by you both. You don't need to spend ridiculous amounts of money that you don't have on wine-ing and dining, and a midnight DMC on the floor of your apartment is the best bonding experience you could ask for. If you don't see each other for a month or a year, you know that the moment you reunite, that love is still there, brighter than ever. 'I Love You' just doesn't cover it. One day, you'll find love with someone else, get married and have kids, but no one could love you like your best friend. Sophie + Frances = 4eva.
"I'm so embarrassed, I'm not a real person yet"
Frances suffers from the chronic woman-child syndrome many do in their post-teenage era. At 27, she loses the job that was keeping her life semi-together, temporarily drifting from her only friend, and, to top it all off, she has no idea who the hell she is. She moves into an apartment with two randos, one of which is Lev (Adam Driver), a guy she went on one terrible date with, and his socially awkward roommate Benji (Michael Zegen). She stands up for herself to her boss when she is kicked out of the Christmas dance recital, and while the attempt may fail, she is proud of herself for even trying. Any attempt she seems to be making at being an independent young woman kicks her in the teeth, extra hard for good measure.
"What do you do?" she is asked at a dinner party that she doesn't know anyone at. "It's kinda hard to explain because I don't really do it," is her blissfully candid and all too familiar response. Every time I visit home and see people I haven't seen since the 2 years I moved to a different city, I can sense this question is coming. Revealing that you're a writer, but a freelance one, while also working in another industry full-time, can confuse some. I don't know what to say sometimes; I'm just along for the ride and trying not to overanalyze each movement as hard as people who are not me seem to do. Not having these significant parts of life sorted out in your 20s, when you're debuting yourself to the world as a fully functioning human, can make you believe that these things are hallmarks of your identity. I do, therefore I am, was not what Descartes said. She is a dreamer, dancer, and running-down-the-street-to-Bowie frequenter, and she is not a mere result of not having a job. If being a real person means having it all figured out, I'm nowhere near there, and I'm content with that.
Spinster Rights
Benji bestows Frances with a nickname. Undateable. Just because she didn't want to date him, she's seen as weird. She rejected Lev's quick advancements after their first and only date (albeit with an interesting honk-like sound), so there must be something wrong with her. Frances' boyfriend breaks up with her as she doesn't want to give up her own space, so obviously, she's in the wrong. Her autonomy in these situations is intimidating. "27 is old, though", Benji says to her, and she goes on to classify herself as a spinster. This isn't Bridgerton. The term spinster can kindly go lay down to rest.
Admittedly, spinster is not in my vernacular due to the vitriol I hold toward it. I hope that wherever Frances is now, she speaks kinder to herself. However, I'm aware that if I were living in the Regency period, I would be seen as an ancient singleton, too. A piece of advice a friend in their 30s offered me was to spend as much of my 20s single. Travel, do what you want with no one else to consider for a while, discover who you are alone and the little things that make you truly happy. Ultimately, this is what Frances did despite the side eyes, not-so-subtle judgment from peers, and getting all she worked so hard for just as those credits begin to roll.
I look back at myself in these moments of doubt, when fear persuades me that somehow I'm doing life wrong and I wonder if all other 20-somethings feel as closely accompanied by such all consuming disarray. In the next breath, I think I am so glad I see so much of myself in her.
