Lady Bird (2017) Review

"It's my tradition to run for office. Don't worry, I won't win."

Coming-of-age is often a genre tied to the rails of the middle class American senior year of high school. Hemed-in by the standard subject matter of college entrance essays, summer jobs, school dances, losing virginities, trying drugs, and so on, such that the great stuff really makes the mediocre stuff look like total crap. It's like watching someone win a cooking competition centered on a mystery ingredient: look at what I can do with this.

Coming out the same year that the super-short-form video platform Vine shut down, Lady Bird is a film that internalized that you don't need to linger. A mother-daughter spat opening the film is suddenly plummeted through a trap door. A quick lie in order to look cooler is buried quietly in one scene only to explode spectacularly later. But the film thrives in lowstakes vignettes, operating almost like a series of minute long sketches that hit the highs and lows without lingering. Clever jump cuts and go-go-go editing ruthlessly trim fat from the tale. The performances are dynamite, from the leads to an auditorium of half-minute heroes in supporting roles.