Filminism: 'Frances Ha' and the Heartbreak of Female Friendship
Filminism is a bi-weekly column dedicated to representations of women in cinema. It runs every other Friday.
Ugh, "Frances Ha."
That's not an "ugh" of derision or exasperation, but a sympathetic groan recalled from the corner of my memory where old friendships have gone to die. If there were a cutesy portmanteau for the deep platonic love between women — and thank God there isn’t — every review of "Frances Ha" would have it in the headline.
Although the plot of the movie is about Frances trying to figure out how not to be a screw-up, its backbone is the crushing break-up between Frances (co-writer Greta Gerwig) and her best friend Sophie (Mickey Sumner). One of the best scenes is their play-fighting in the park, something Frances tries to recreate later with another young woman to no avail. Their weird but awesome vibe is almost pre-pubescent in its intensity, or like house pets who cuddle and groom each other. But then Sophie commits the ultimate betrayal: She grows up. It's like aliens replaced Frances' best friend with some broad who's dating a preppy financial dude and they start shopping at Pottery Barn or wherever it is that real adults buy plate-ware.
I don't have to tell you that growing up can suck. Sometimes. I mean, driving is cool, and so is having whatever you want for dinner, but you've also got to do things like figure out why the toilet starts flushing itself in the middle of the night or how to find a stud in a wall. Frances has, in some ways, purposefully sabotaged herself from growing up. She's sort of interested in becoming "a real person" but she can't figure out how, and instead she keeps falling deeper and deeper into this rabbit hole of feeling like a loser. Honestly, you can't fault Sophie for wanting things in her life like a good job and a serious boyfriend and a nice place to live. And yet, you can't quite free yourself from the nagging desire to shake Frances by the shoulders.
Female friendship is a tricksy thing, and one that continually surprises and confounds as we get older. There’s a reason there are so many trend pieces on how to make friends in your thirties and later – because we don't know how to any more. Certain friendships cycle over the years, and you can easily pick up where you left off with no hard feelings. Others end horribly and leave psychic scars that never heal, and some grown women still carry old hurts from, say, sixth or seventh grade. (Anyone who doesn't believe me should pick up Margaret Atwood's "Cat's Eye" tout de suite.) It's hard to figure out what to do when your friends are suddenly way more interested in being popular or finding a cute boy or growing boobs than hanging out with your sorry ass. Similarly, when your lives start going in different directions, it's painful as hell.
It's damn near impossible to discuss "Frances Ha" and its place in the pop culture landscape without bringing up, you know, "Girls" and "Bridesmaids." They have different storytelling goals, styles, and formats, so comparing them just because the focus of the stories all have female plumbing is reductive, to say the least. Still, this shift in point-of-view and sympathies is important, because even though the most recent study about women in film is pretty dreary, we can still see incremental changes in the way stories about women are being told.
That said, "Frances Ha" aims higher, or perhaps more directly for the heart, than the others. "Girls" has some of the same dynamics, but the stakes for Hannah and her friends are way lower. Hannah Horvath might be cut off from her parents, but she somehow makes ends meet neatly by working as a barista (for like two shifts a week) at a joint in Brooklyn. Frances, on the other hand, is screaming towards financial bottom, and it's pretty clear she's living on the kindness of near-strangers. Frances is definitely that girl who is running through the streets to find an ATM while her date is wondering where the hell she went, but she'd probably not accidentally smoke crack at a party in Bushwick. "Bridesmaids" isn't trying to hit the same notes as "Frances," but it does sneak in a few prickly truths about the fear of being left behind and forgotten, sort of like how gummy vitamins are so delicious. Don't underestimate the healing powers of a good Wilson Phillips sing-a-long with your pals and a romcom-y ending.
The real lesson isn't that you should never grow up and your friends stink for choosing other life paths, or that you should definitely grow up and marry a condescending bro and be miserable. It's just that growing up hurts, full stop. If you're lucky, you'll get to grow up with your best friends, or at least stop in and visit their lives once in a while. That's what I hope for Frances and Sophie, anyway.
