Frances Ha

⸝⸝ ₊ 𖦹 “Let's do something fun. We could go to a movie.” 🍿 ˖⋆࿐໋ ✶⋆.˚꩜ “Movies are so expensive now.” “Yeah, but you're at the movies.” ⋮ 🎞️ ‧₊˚ I actually kind of wanted to write about how I connect with this film and how I relate to Frances so deeply in my bones, but I think I’ve gotta watch it again and pause for this kind of review — it’s far too personal to just write down from one day to the next. ♡₊˚ 🪷 “Sometimes it's good to do what you're supposed to do when you're supposed to do it.” So instead, I’ll write about what I do know: This is one of those rare films that feels like it’s sitting beside you, quietly telling you that you’re going to be okay—even if it takes time. It actually reminds me a lot of Lady Bird* in that way. Both films are like little blueprints for growing, getting to know yourself* - becoming your own person.  They show you how life doesn’t need to be perfect or linear. You can figure things out slowly, in your own messy, stumbling way, and that’s still enough. (Actually, maybe that’s the whole point.) ⤹ ⊹ “Don't treat me like a three-hour brunch friend!”  ୨୧ ☕️ ₊˚๑ The pacing in Frances Ha is SO perfect—it’s breezy and chaotic at the same time. It just flows in this really natural way that pulls you in without even trying. I get completely lost in it every time and just hang on to every word like I don’t want to miss a second of it. The music is so good too—I love me some David Bowie. 🙏 ୭˚. ᵎᵎ 💐 “I like things that look like mistakes.” The choice to shoot the film in black and white is such a strong move. It gives the story this timeless quality, but it also creates a bit of distance, like a memory you’re watching unfold. It almost feels like the film knows it’s capturing a phase of life that, one day, you’ll look back on with this soft, tender kind of nostalgia. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t YEARN to see it in color. I keep wondering how much more raw, how much more immediate it might have felt that way. Maybe that’s the beauty of it though—the black and white makes Frances’ life still feel like a work in progress, like she’s sketching the outlines but hasn’t fully colored it in yet. ₊˚꒰🍰꒱‧ “I have trouble leaving places.”  Greta Gerwig is absolutely *incredible in this role. She brings so much openness and vulnerability to Frances—it’s clumsy, it’s funny*, but it never feels like she’s acting. She’s Frances. Watching her, I couldn’t stop thinking about Pippi Longstocking—there’s that same stubborn, childlike spirit in her, that refusal to give up, even when life keeps knocking her down. She just keeps going, keeps making it up as she moves forward. There are so many little parallels to Lady Bird that I can’t unsee now. They’re both from Sacramento. They both bicker with their moms in that painfully real way. They both just want to make something. They both want to belong—to cities, to friend groups, to themselves—but they don’t always know how. Frances wants to dance, but it’s not really just about the dancing. It’s about finding a place in the world where she can be—where she can feel seen, feel like she matters, like what she’s doing has meaning, even if no one else would call it “successful.” It’s less about the steps and more about claiming a little bit of space for herself. What I love most about *Frances Ha is that it lets her figure it out slowly. It doesn’t rush her. It doesn’t punish her*. It gives her the grace to stumble, to change, to find her own pace. And it tells us—so quietly, but so clearly—that’s okay. That’s enough.