The plot: After breaking up with her girlfriend Maxine (Rebecca Henderson), Brooklynite Shirin (Desiree Akhavan) is trying to put her life back together. As she reminisces over her life of contentment with Maxine, she tries to put herself back on the market while also trying to find work. And while all of this is going on, she keeps trying to psyche herself up to finally come out to her family.
I’ve mentioned indie-quirk before, but what this film
contains is of a slightly heavier dosage than Me And Earl And The Dying Girl.
There’s a brand of indie-quirk that pushes past the idea of trying to portray
reality in all its idiosyncrasies and instead embodies the feeling of
awkwardness that so pervades life. The most popular purveyor of this style
would be Lena Dunham, particularly through her HBO show Girls. This film
follows in that same vein, taking uncomfortable social graces into the realm of
hyper-realistic in the way that only seems to crop up in stories about New
York. I mean, joking about out-there performance art and ‘intestinal vaginas’
is one thing; it’s quite another to feature characters who legitimately do
those acts. The main difference here being that not only is Shirin not a
complete sociopath, nor are the people around her, she also isn’t played by a
sexual predator… far as I know, at any rate. The run-on tangent-filled
conversations (sounds familiar, for some reason) get more than a little
bizarre, even in their occasionally weed-influenced circumstances, but I’d be
lying if I said that they didn’t come across as some form of reality.
Specifically, director/writer/star Desiree Akhavan’s reality and, in the
context of just her everyday life, it’s a little too Wonderland to really
connect with at times.
When in the context of her everyday life as it involves her
sexuality, that’s when the film hits its major strides. Shirin and Maxine make
an incredibly cute couple, even during their less-than-glamourous moments.
Their banter and chemistry with each other results in probably the most
realistic on-screen romance I’ve seen all year which, given how one scene
involves discussing safe words for fantasies about tax brokers, is definitely
surprising. Actually, maybe it’s because
of weird little moments like that that make their relationship feel as stable
as it does. As a result, the core conflict about Shirin trying to get over her
break-up with Maxine hits deep emotionally because it genuinely feels like
these two belong together. When dealing with Shirin as a single bisexual woman,
it may delve into the promiscuity angle a little too much but offers some decent portrayals of dating-based humour.
This film is home to the single most awkward threesome scene outside of porn,
but the reason why it’s so awkward
makes it weirdly identifiable. Then we get into her confronting her parents
with the reality of who she is sexually and this is also portrayed rather
realistically, only in the most dishearteningly way possible. Unfortunately,
all of it ends up leading into a conclusion that feels rather empty, like
Shirin was supposed to have grown stronger but we see no real evidence for why
aside from it’s the end of the film.
There’s a school of comedy that specialises in being random
and uncomfortable to sit through. I would normally just classify as yet another
“It’s funny because it’s _______” sub-effort at humour, but I hate to admit
that it actually works on occasion. When faced with something that makes no
logical sense, a perfectly rational response to it is laugh. It’s the ultimate
example of how laughter is just a normalised form of hysteria. I bring this up
because, even though the bizarre nature of the scenes does make the more
emotional moments difficult to sink in, the funny moments still hit home.
Whether it’s the cringe comedy involving Shirin poking fun at her own
Middle-Eastern heritage, and I specify Middle-Eastern because that’s how far
its reach goes), or seeing the film classes being taught to five-year-olds and
the differences between both of them, the film somehow kept me giggling
throughout.
All in all, this is the kind of random indie humour I can
get behind. While it can get a little too
weird in places, Desiree Akhavan still delivers both emotional drama regarding
her own sexuality and surprisingly good comedy based on just how strange the
situations she finds herself in are. I would normally say that I recommend this
to people who like Lena Dunham, but then again I don’t and even I could get into it. Regardless, it’s worth watching.
No comments:
Post a Comment