SIFF 2015 Review: 'Mistress America'

I did not think that I would like this movie. I do not like Noah Baumbach, and films about lost thirtysomethings practically grow on trees. So imagine my surprise when I found myself walking out of my second screening of “Mistress America” equally elated as the first time I saw it. One character describes the titular protagonist of the picture as “the kind of beautiful that made you want to look more like yourself, not more like her”. It’s one of many lines in the film that deliberately toes the line between insight and idiocy, but it describes “Mistress America” to a tee. In the end, it’s the kind of movie that makes you want to watch, listen, read, and above all, create.

            We begin the movie following Tracy Fishko (Lola Kirke), a slightly maladjusted college freshman. She’s an aspiring writer, and her attempts to create worthy short story are intertwined with the fabric of the movie in ways I won’t spoil here. At any rate, she finds herself, in a moment of boredom and loneliness, calling her soon-to-be-sister-in-law Brooke Cardinas (Greta Gerwig, luminous), an exuberant, deeply narcissistic thirtysomething. Tracy finds herself magnetically attracted to Brooke as both a friend and as a writer; Brooke’s flightiness and endless charisma are the kind of qualities the Nick Carraways of the world drool over. Hijinks ensue.

            I must mention again that I’ve seen this movie twice, choosing to miss another festival screening to see if my initial instincts held up. The dialogue was so smart, the editing so quick; perhaps they distracted me from an otherwise mediocre picture? The answer turned out to be a resounding “no” as everything I previously admired was amplified and whatever doubts I had faded into the background. More than anything, I was struck by how deceptively important “Mistress America” truly is.

            There has yet to be a film that genuinely represents us millennials; we of the smartphones and short attention spans have yet to find a real neo-classic to call our own. Some would make the argument for “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” or “The Social Network”, and a few misguided souls might even go to bat for “Guardians of the Galaxy”. Film tastes have become increasingly niche-ified; it is difficult for a something to be culture-defining in the way that, say, “Dog Day Afternoon” was for the confused flower children of the 60’s and 70’s. We have been waiting for that transcendent piece of pop cinema, and in “Mistress America”, we found it.

            You can’t discuss this picture without discussing its protagonist, the indomitable Brooke, a name sure to pass through many film students’ lips thirty years from now. She’s a Gatsby-esque creation, part character and part symbol, a living, breathing reflection of others’ values and desires. In her flightiness, her off-handed witticisms, and her incalculable self-consciousness, she is the motor mouthed personification of a generation raised by Twitter. Gerwig delivers each line with aplomb and precision, but it was her silence that got the biggest laughs; the little nods that punctuated many of her line deliveries drew howls from the audience. Kirke is also a revelation, and since it would be easy for her to be overshadowed by Gerwig’s titanic performance, it is especially remarkable that she is not only able to keep pace with the machine-gun dialogue, but also serve as a rounded character in her own right.

            It’s rare that I see a new American movie that I can wholeheartedly recommend; the phrase most commonly associated with them is “I mean it was good, but________”. So I cannot emphasize enough my joy at discovering a fantastic picture like this, a modern day “His Girl Friday”, which has a real opportunity at breaking into the mainstream. It’s an effervescent, energetic breath of fresh air in a mostly bland cinematic landscape. [A]