Lady Bird

Lady Bird is one of my favorite movies—not because it’s perfect in a general sense, but because it genuinely has something of me, and I have something of it. I think I’ve watched it many more times than I’ve logged on Letterboxd. I understand why some people don’t like it or think it’s overrated. To be honest, looking at it from different perspectives, maybe it’s not an extraordinary movie. It doesn’t have shocking twists, nor is it a grand, dramatic epic with breathtaking cinematography. It’s subtle, intimate, and, to some, mundane. But to me, it’s absolutely perfect. I connect with every scene; every moment matters. Lady Bird’s journey and transformation feel so real. This is, truly, a movie about being a teenager—one that captures the transition from youth to adulthood with raw honesty, embracing all its contradictions, pains, and joys. This film is so special to me because I am, quite literally, Lady Bird (and no, I’m not joking). I study at a private, Catholic, all-girls school run by nuns. I’m an extrovert, but also awkward. I love art. I’m emotional. My relationship with my mother is almost identical to the one in the movie—same with my father. I see pieces of myself in every character: Lady Bird, Jenna, Danny... And that’s part of what makes Lady Bird such a great film—it understands its characters in a way that few coming-of-age movies do. These aren’t just archetypes; they’re real people, full of contradictions, mistakes, and hidden depths. Lady Bird herself is messy, sometimes selfish, sometimes deeply kind. She wants to be special, but she also wants to belong. She’s constantly trying to reinvent herself, searching for an identity that feels right. The film’s realism is enhanced by its soundtrack and settings. The early 2000s aesthetic, the modest yet warm visuals, the intimate framing—it all creates an atmosphere that feels nostalgic yet tangible. There’s a romantic quality to the way the film looks, but it’s not an unattainable, Hollywood-style fantasy. It feels real. It feels like home. As I watched the movie, I could feel the process of change. It felt like every moment of my life had been condensed into a film—even the characters, the experiences—showing real people, real teenagers, a real, unforgettable experience. Lady Bird perfectly represents what it feels like to be talented but unseen. To be special, but end up being the odd one out. To try to fit in. To try to live. To try to navigate change, relationships, growing up. Love, anger, emotions, impulsiveness, regret, guilt. Everything in this movie is so incredibly good that I struggle to find words to describe just how close to home it feels, how good it feels, how real it feels. We're afraid that we will never escape our past. We're afraid of what the future will bring. We're afraid we won't be loved, we won't be liked. And we won't succeed.