Greta Gerwig’s Candid Exploration of the Feminine Odyssey in Frances Ha
I came across Frances Ha while searching for coming of age films centering late twenty-something year old women. After watching my teenage fave, Stuck in Love (shoutout Nat Wolff), I realized that I needed a new indie flick tailor-made for my current reality and romantic brand of angsty escapism. And here comes in Frances- a heroine so comically unhinged, yet well intentioned, that I can’t help but empathize.
Filmed entirely in black & white, Frances Ha beautifully captures the feminine odyssey into one’s self. Gerwig has a unique ability to encompass the universal essence of coming of age blues. So I found myself easily relating to the characters– though very white and perpetually in emotional distress. The voyage we take as spectators of Frances’ blunders reveals the painful beauty of discovering one’s true human nature and creative power as a young adult. In fact, the voyueristic role feels quite healing– perhaps because we can identify with her plight, but also because we have a faint, nearly prescient knowing that things will work out for her in the end.
So in watching Frances Ha, we find our inner selves– the ugly journey of self discovery presented with cinematic flair, spirited dialogue, and humor as surreally dry as the hard times themselves.
Frances is the epitome of figuring it out. She depicts a clear view of what it means to be in search of identity, while navigating the tricky pathway to self development and career growth as a college-educated artist from a lower middle-class background. As she laments to a rather privileged friend about her financial reality and seemingly endless woes as an aspiring modern dancer, he ridicules her because she is not “real poor.”
And that’s sort of true.
Still, it presents an opportunity to interrogate causal factors behind America’s dwindling middle class and increasingly staggering cost of rent for young adults. Furthermore she tickles the frustration of young people pursuing harrowing routes to creative careers in a country that once boasted the allure of labor diversification- otherwise branded as the land of opportunity.
The dissonance between perceived and actual pathways to socioeconomic upward mobility is striking most when explored in context of professions like publishing and the creative arts- the chosen careers of the film’s main protagonists. In order to be an artist in cities like NYC and LA, it’s almost an unspoken rule that one should be rich or atleast rich adjacent. I found this to be true as well during my undergraduate years at Brown University- an intellectual playground for people who are unironically similar to many of the supporting characters portrayed in Frances Ha. An air of understated self-importance mixed with a touch of somewhat performative bohemian flair,and there you have it: the “haves” cosplaying as “have nots” while making sure you know they still have more than you.
Though it premiered in 2012, one can feel the heavy similarities to the reality of making it today on your own accord as a woman artist. Frances Ha is an earnest depiction of that slow realization that life is less a walk in a park and more like a winding hill with highs and lows. Frances Ha is not without its flaws however, but I wouldn’t spout a predictable critique of white privilege. In fact Frances Ha is so candidly relatable that I’m shocked how far Frances advances in her irresponsibility without someone caring enough to sit her down and really check in on her to figure out wtf she’s doing with her life (while speaking some much needed life into her of course). I feel like part of stepping into adulthood means receiving reality checks from the wiser humans in your story. The closest she comes to this is a conversation with the director of the dance studio she wants a full time role at. But that initial conversation lacks the depth that comes from having a circle of more experienced women who genuinely love you and want you to succeed in your corner.
In my journey as an artist, I’ve overcome frustrated isolation solely because of the concern of Nigerian parents, aunties, and uncles who want to make sure I have a sense of direction with this whole life thing. Ultimately, they want to make sure I’m not “wasting my degrees.” That’s just what it’s like being an artist in an African immigrant household.
In a way it can feel overbearing and judgemental when you have to explain your why and defend your conviction about your dreams with actual supporting data to justify such radical choices. But I still find myself grateful for my village when I watch Frances struggle in a city on the other side of the country from what seems to be her one true support system. Everyone around her in NYC is mostly content with watching her stumble and fall flat on her face, or honestly too caught up in their own narratives to care enough. And if you’re wondering why our lovely heroine doesn’t seek therapy– well, the movie is set in 2012 (pre BetterHelp ads) and she’s unemployed-ish. It all speaks to the role individualism and loneliness plays in the late twenties reckoning. I personally think a Saturn return has something to do with it as well, but that’s another conversation for a different day.
The hardship of building true community in NYC real, as I believe every young artist or creative professional has found themselves there (whether they like to admit it or not). My first NYC episode was from 2018 to 2019, and it was intense but I was 22 so it was ok in the end. I knew I would bounce back– and I had a deferred Ivy League master’s degree waiting for me when I decided to escape the concrete jungle. But Frances almost seems way too haphazard of a young adult to have made it this far in a city that chews many dreamers up and spits them back out to the suburbs they came from. Her lack of a back up plan, or any strategy at all, makes me wonder if her resourcefulness is lacking because of failed parenting or because of a childhood so good it blinded her from the struggles of the real world. Her naivete is alarming, but I’m truly unsure of the source. I think it’s just so different from the immense pressure that exists in an immigrant household- her lackadaisical approach to stability is at times unnerving to say the least.
If you, like me, have parents for whom America’s world of opportunity was a destination, not a birthright, then you grow up feeling like every action needs to make that voyage feel worth it. And you cannot afford to waste time on even half the wishful thinking our beloved protagonist indulges in– not at 27.
I think for Frances, her odyssey is a slap in the face because she realizes that supposed birthright of pursuing her dreams in the land of the free isn’t all it’s cracked up to be- but she has so much representation of people who look like her making it happen. So what is the difference? Is it talent, resources, network, drive?
In Frances’ case we find that her greatest challenge is namely her lack of self awareness.
So, to that end I found myself most perplexed by the childlike illusions of grandeur swaying Frances away from progress, even when the cold hard truth of her reality punches her right in the face. In every creative career you have to eventually look yourself in the mirror and see how badly you want it. Then you take the necessary steps to get it. But as a woman artist, the task becomes twice as hard. Because the quality of your work life actually depends on how you can translate your internal odyssey into an external expression that can open doors for you in a world that vastly favors the wealthy and male- as evidenced by her seemingly equally unemployed, yet financially frivolous, former roommates. The journey is the same path, but the obstacles differ. In this dichotomy, the men face an external world that wants them to win– while Frances (by virtue of an odd combination of her gender, novice status as a dancer, and socioeconomic background) is moving through a world that is surprised that she’s even still trying.
Even still, I think this period is necessary for Frances- and all women in general. You have to go through it in order to find the calling inside of you. Surrendering to the chaos is how you learn to fly- you just have to take control of your wings before it’s too late.
FACING THE INNER CHILD
I like that Greta Gerwig doesn’t spell out the answers to my questions in black and white- she just lets me ponder why I feel that Frances should have it together at 27. Watching the film forced me to interrogate what “having it together” means to me in context of global conflict, and our collective reckoning with the failure of America’s domestic leadership to identify with the plights of average Americans- particularly women.
I think a beautiful turn of events is when Frances and her estranged best friend Sophie both find themselves sleeping in the same bed in an old dorm room at their alma mater after a summer fundraising event. Shortly after Frances comforts a crying resident during her summer RA job, roles are reversed and Frances is surprisingly taking care of a drunken Sophie. I think when we learn to step into the Mother role without letting it consume us- that is when we learn to nurture ourselves. Even as adult women, we still possess an inner child who needs to know that she is heard and accepted- even when crying over an obstacle or mistake of her own doing.
Cut to Frances chasing after a Sophie who has abruptly left for a funeral in the aftermath of an intimate moment that felt like closure and a transition as well. The scene symbolizes the cycles of death and rebirth that ultimately permeate the feminine odyssey inwards. There is an elongated mourning period- of the girl you once were and for the ghosts of relationships past. But when you stop and realize that change is the only constant in life, it grounds you and you stand still long enough to know who you need to become in order to do what you need to do to get to where you want to be- in love, career, and just life in general.
COMING HOME to yourself MEANS GROWING UP
In the end Frances faces herself. She comes back to center and realizes that she loves dance– even if it is expressed in a way that is different from what she previously imagined. At last she can laugh at her expectations and trust that the future will be a little sexy.
In this act of surrender she is able to push through the storm of her youthful blunders, and a adopt the mindset of a woman who is the orchestrator of her own uniquely beautiful reality.
She has found an authentic rhythm within chaos and it is a riveting story to watch unfold. Our heroine has found her flow within the dance of life, and it is because she stopped fighting the part of herself that actually wanted to take ownership of her narrative. In the end Frances is the same woman with the same talent, but her journey has enlightened her to the greatness that has lived within her all along. The twist? She once viewed the key to her success as admittance of failure. She thought that teaching and choreographing would be the end of her dreams, but it was actually a gateway into more than she could imagine.
I think we come to find that it was never Frances versus the odds stacked against her. No. It was the Frances that wanted to emerge vs the Frances holding on to the idea of who she should be.
And when she let go, the little fires everywhere felt more like a guiding light back home to her first love.
The cinematic fluidity is striking in this movie and the denouement feels natural, if not expected (but honestly not in a bad way). It almost clashes at times with the clumsy manner in which Frances stumbles into adulthood. Yet we are able to see the harmony of it all emerge in her debut as a choreagrapher of a successful modern dance show.
Frances finds that the part of her that she once mourned has transformed into something brighter and lighter- and we see this most potently in her relationship with Sophie. As they smile at each other across the room, we are reminded of Frances’ earlier wine drunk monologue about her longing for the kind of love that comes with a comfort of just knowing where you belong- even in a crowded room.
The relationships and narratives we hold on to as security blankets can begin to smother us and the objects of our desire if we are not careful. So I love that this film explored what it means to let go so that the real love can flow– within you and around you.
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I think that Greta Gerwig’s exploration of the feminine odyssey in Frances Ha is the candid depiction of the heroine’s journey so often lacking in popular culture. Furthermore, a feminine odyssey that does not center pursuit of a man’s affection is rare if not ignored when done. I also love that this was done without taking on a misandrist undertone that, truth be told, can be a bit off putting (but inflammatory enough to garner attention). I love the focus on growth through female relationships, and I love the sensitivity, softness, and honesty that Greta Gerwig’s performance lends to the periods of conflict in the film.
As Frances works to find a place of grounding within her, we see her outer world transform. Suddenly, what once seemed to evade her is a part of her world. The feminine odyssey is complete and Frances has come home to the joy of self-mastery. She is no longer a victim of life– she is the conductor of harmony in her art, her career, and her relationships. And even though she made mistakes along the way, I think the point of the story that I’m happy to walk away with is this:
There are no wrong detours on the way to destiny. Just keep your hands on the wheel and make sure you don’t let opportunities for honest joy pass you by.
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Frances Ha is currently available to watch on Netflix. I highly recommend for all my twenty something angsty/artsy gals out there trying to dance to the rhythm of expansion. If you’re in the mood for a modern ode to the French New Wave, I think you’ll enjoy this one.
It’s the pick me up you didn’t know you needed.
