Tay’s review published on Letterboxd:
I didn't know what to expect going to see Lady Bird again, especially since I just saw it yesterday. I was kind of afraid of my own hype, of my own initial impression. There was something so uniquely cathartic about seeing Lady Bird for the first time -- never, and I mean never, have I felt so compelled to call my parents to thank them, to say I'm sorry, to tell them I love them. And never have I ever seen everyone else around me do the exact same thing.
Part of Lady Bird's magic the first time around was that I didn't know what to expect or what was to come. Seeing it again, knowing what would happen, something perhaps even greater than magic happened: clarity came, and with that clarity came a totally new appreciation & awe for just how meticulous this movie is. There are things that Gerwig gives us right from the get-go that we aren't meant to pick up on until a rewatch. These things are the very moments of our own lives that we don't understand until we have the luxury of looking back. With retrospection comes clarity; how the fuck did Gerwig so effortlessly and sensitively craft a narrative that predicts itself without being overbearing or overdramatic?
I cried again. I wanted to call my parents again. And I was lucky enough to see a panel with Gerwig, Ronan, Metcalf, Letts, & the absolutely articulate composer, Jon Brion. Hearing Greta speak about this film made it all the more unbelievable that something this precious exists. To craft resilience, to craft selfishness, to craft learning, to craft forgiveness -- I can't believe this is fucking real.
Gerwig has made a film that is not just reflective of my own life, or everyone in the theater's lives. She's made a movie that makes me understand my life better -- she's made the jagged, fragmented, tough moments of growing up, of edging the cusp of girlhood & adulthood, forgivable to swallow.