Lady Bird

"...we never reach a point at which our lives lie before us as a clearly marked open road, never have and never should expect a map to the years ahead, never do close those circles that seem, at thirteen and fourteen and nineteen, so urgently in need of closing."

there are so many small, splendid details in this movie. it's a life fully examined, fully populated. that Julie and Lady Bird share jewelry, that Shelly wants to be loved and accepted, that Lady Bird's bedroom walls are both a museum and mausoleum of her memories, that Marion appreciates the warm sun setting and open houses with impossible other futures inside of them, that Larry's not just happy to be here, but he's happy to be anywhere—each life is so big, so complicated, but when they intersect and overlap, some beautiful crossing of paths, like highways cutting over and under and through one another, emerges. something that resembles order emerges. something that resembles hope and love and forgiveness emerges. it's the ordinary messes and strange inconclusiveness of growing up that makes Lady Bird, both character and film, so tender. its tragedy is never greater than what it means to be a young girl becoming a young woman, its triumphs are as sweet as sharing a last dance with your best friend and a package of unfinished letters from your mother.

2018 was a strange year, but it was also full of so many splendid delights & surprises, both big and small. to everyone reading—now and later—thank you. i hope the next year is just as unexpectedly weird and good and full of light.

Lady Bird, i love you, this year and the next and ever after that.

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