Dorothea Fields is a 50-something woman trying to raise her teenage son Jamie by herself in 1979 Santa Barbara, California. It’s a pivotal point in history. The economy is crap, Jimmy Carter is probably the right president at the wrong time, and a rebellious punk-rock attitude is festering among the young. Seeing her son slowly turn away — like all adolescents do — Dorothea takes the dramatic step of enlisting the help of her boarder, Abbie, and Jamie’s slightly older best friend, Julie, to help raise him. That’s the alluring context of Mike Mills’ impressive and moving new film “20th Century Women.” And, yes, you guessed correctly. Jamie is neither thrilled with nor understands the reasoning behind his mother’s plan.
Written and directed by Mills, ‘Women’ surpasses his last film, 2010’s eloquent love letter to his father, “Beginners.” ‘Women’ is inspired by his relationship with his mother and is full of the sort of sharply realized characters you rarely see on screen even in the most critically acclaimed of films. And while the picture eventually diverts its focus to Dorothea, Abbie and Julie, it begins with Jamie, who is brought to life by talented relative newcomer Lucas Jade Zumann.
Jamie is in many ways a typical teenage boy. He’s looking for social acceptance from his peers at the local skate park and has a huge crush on Julie, his best girlfriend he’s known since he was a little kid. His relationship with his mother is special, though. She gave birth to him at the then-late age of 40, and as she approaches 60, it’s obvious he’s looking out for her as much as she’s looking out for him. She’s always trying to find an older male influence to guide him, even if he’s painfully aware of it. For example, the instant he assists boarder William (Billy Crudup) in restoring the woodwork of their home isn’t going to make him more of a man, and he knows it. On the other hand, he’s always concerned about his mother’s free-love-movement tendency to become fast friends with anyone she meets, inviting them over for dinner.
Masterfully played by Annette Bening, Dorothea is a fascinating character of contradictions. Born in the 1920s, her perspective is guided by living through the Great Depression, but she also has a ’60s free spirit and liberalness you would only suspect because, well, she lives in Santa Barbara in 1979. And yet, for all her openness, she’s finding it increasingly hard to relate to her son’s generation. A visit to a local punk club with Abbie is more like a scientific expedition than an act of embracing of something new. And while William’s interest in her is obvious to anyone watching, Bening expertly portrays Dorothea’s romantic encounters as a woman who has suffered just enough to be skeptical of any potential new love.
Abbie, wonderfully portrayed by Greta Gerwig, is in many ways a dose of reality for Jamie. She’s recently returned to the area following a cancer diagnosis, making her way back from art school in New York. Getting by as a photographer for the local paper, Abbie is trying to get beyond her recovery and make peace with returning to a town she thought she’d said goodbye to. What she becomes for Jamie, though, is an important guide into a world of art and music that will change his perspective on life and how he lives it.
Elle Fanning delivers another strong performance as Julie, perhaps the most heartbreaking of the heartbreaking characters in the film. Unable to relate to a mother who forces her to attend her group counseling sessions, Julie spends as much time as she can at Jamie’s home, often sleeping with him at night just for the emotional intimacy even as she pushes away his sexual advances (“This was easier when you were younger,” she remarks early on). But she’s also hooking up with numerous other boys in school and during one pivotal scene ends up defending her “slutty” conduct during one of Dorothea’s dinner parties. You can argue Julie’s behavior is her way of rebelling against her mother, but when was the last time a “normal” young woman of any era rightfully felt there was no need to apologize or feel shame for exploring her sexuality on screen? In fact, it’s an example of the contemporary parallels Mills makes throughout the course of the picture.
As the film progresses, Mills touches on a number of themes from ageism to misogyny, but eventually the focus returns to Dorothea and Jamie. Will they ever be as close as they were when he was younger? Or is that part of their lives truly over?
Mills’ dialogue is hilariously cutting at times while somehow still finding ways to feel naturally unscripted. This helps make the lives chronicled in ‘Women’ slowly start to feel inherently real. That’s partially thanks to his talent as a filmmaker, but also to a cast who have marvelously brought these characters to life in a way that must even surprise Mills himself. Sure, the storylines get a tad repetitive, and in comparison, Willam isn’t as compelling as the ladies in the film, but it barely feels like a period piece and that’s not a compliment you hear every day. Instead, ‘Women’ becomes a window into a world where you may see your own mother, your own sister, your own brother or another relative or perhaps even yourself. And, frankly, that’s a rarity on the big screen these days. [A-]
This is a reprint of our review from the 2016 New York Film Festival.
