I Didn't Like Lady Bird

This film wasn't for me—literally.

I thought I was the problem, and maybe I am. As an avid coming-of-age lover, who grew up romanticizing life in the suburbs and the concept of hometowns, who was known to be the “rebellious” and “independent” daughter, and a huge fan of Greta Gerwig and A24, I went into Lady Bird with the highest of expectations. I’d seen the raving reviews, from the 99% score on Rotten Tomatoes to the TikToks of women from ages 15-25 sobbing after watching the movie, saying, “If you have a complicated relationship with your mother, watch this film!” I’d seen the comparisons to Perks of Being a Wallflower, Pretty in Pink, and The Edge of Seventeen, all of which are films I absolutely adore. I was convinced that this was the movie for me. So after the movie was done and I found myself giving it 2 stars on Letterboxd, I felt disillusioned. Did I just have bad taste?

I felt even more confused when, during an 8:30 am screenwriting class in college, my professor and various other students expressed their love for Lady Bird and their dislike for Everything, Everywhere, All at Once. I was flabbergasted by this. Did we even watch the same movies? And then I realized what everyone singing their praises for Lady Bird had in common: the majority of them were white Americans.

I debated writing about this for a long time. I normally kept my opinion of Lady Bird to myself because of my loyalty to Greta Gerwig, A24, Timothee Chalamet, and Saoirse Ronan. I am quite literally listening to the Lady Bird soundtrack as I write this. Like, “Don’t get me wrong! Love them! Just wasn’t for me!” But I watched a TikTok recently that made me realize that this film, quite literally, was not for me.

I love films that explore the complexity of girlhood and mother-daughter relationships, which was why I loved Everything, Everywhere, All at Once so deeply. It spoke genuinely to the immigrant experience, especially to how the next generation is so deeply affected by family ties and the cultural differences between our customs and American customs, and it did all this through the lens of a complicated yet highly realistic familial relationship. When I watched this movie, it felt like it was for me and all of the second-generation kids who needed something to relate to. It gave words to things I hadn’t yet figured out how to describe.

However, when I watched Lady Bird, I felt tricked. Everyone said this was a universal experience for women, so of course I was expecting a relatable film—I’m a girl. I have a Mom. Isn’t that what the movie is about? What was I missing? Why did I find the character of Lady Bird so insufferable? And then I saw this TikTok that pieced together everything I was feeling.

Andrea, the creator of the short video essay, shares my same sentiments on Lady Bird. “Why is everyone’s girlhood in this movie except for mine?” she wrote. “…Greta Gerwig doesn’t owe me a movie about my life. And (…) if I’m looking for a very accurate representation of my girlhood, it’s foolish to look for it in Greta Gerwig whose upbringing could not be more different than mine.”

This movie was not made for me. It was made for the girls who grew up the way Lady Bird did, and I wasn’t one of them. That doesn’t make my girlhood any less valid—it just means I’m not the audience for this film, no matter how badly I wanted to be.

“Do I want Greta Gerwig and other Western filmmakers to stop making movies or telling their stories?” Andrea said. “Absolutely not—what I want (…) is to have more stories stand alongside these Western (often white) narratives.”

I fell in love with the normalcy that is coming-of-age. My biggest childhood fantasy was the reality of most white Americans and it looked like this: A girl, riding a bike down the street of a suburban neighborhood. She knows everyone by name. She rides her bike into the sunset, and she’s not afraid of the dark.

I run to my room when I turn off the bathroom light. I call someone when I walk from the car to my house at night. I never liked living in the suburbs. I don’t own a bike. The film about my girlhood is yet to be made because I’m still living it. But it’ll be coming soon to theaters, near you, one day.

Okay, so I needed a break. Sue me! I’ve had a huge writing slump. It’s been difficult to survive as a writer, which I’ll unpack in another newsletter. But I’m back, because I owe it to myself to keep doing what I love. I love this. And I love you for reading it.

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