Human cells live, but not forever. The blood, and what makes it red, dies, exists, and then comes back to life. There’s a life within a life; a cycle of constant birth and death of the same thing, but in a regenerated form.
Greta Gerwig’s coming of age directorial debut ‘Lady Bird’ is a celebration of the ordinary. Out of many themes, captured and then put in frames of a solipsistic photo album, there’s one that stands out; and oh so bravely and unapologetically. And that is, we change.
What we understand of ‘self’ and every extension of the same is a construction; purely hedonistic. We often face flak for not staying ‘true’ to ‘who we are’, and quite interestingly, it always comes from the outside. It’s like all the voids we try to fill in, eventually we tend to outgrow, but somehow still make ourselves ‘fit’ into the same spaces. It is not natural, no, it can’t be. When the elements that constitute your body and make it ‘live’ each day do not remain constant, how can the idea of it remain constant? There is a movement in the understanding of life and the life itself. It may be retrospective, but it’s always moving forward. There is no linear movement, if that may appear from the word forward, rather, it’s the complete opposite of it.
Saoirse Ronan, in one of the interviews she gave to a talk-show host in LA, mentioned her take on the relatability of Christine’s (Ladybird’s) character in the film. She said it is not the specificity of Christine’s life but the very abstracted idea of it that makes the movie and the character so relatable; even in a very gender-less way. It’s like having to look at oneself through various costumes until finding one that fits perfectly; and then, maybe, changing even that one, again.
From love, music, theatre to Sacramento, we finally see Christine moving forward in the movement of life but finding truths about herself that lie not ahead but in the past. Or maybe, they always existed but never realised. Even though she chooses to be who she never thought she would be, the reason why she still prevails is the fact that she exercised a choice. There’s no defined qualitative and ‘identifying’ element in the movement of life. The forward movement in life may not always be marked with a forward movement in one’s understanding of self. And more so than ever, it is the shooting off from one’s own position, that makes a ‘decision’ what it actually is.
So, the lesson I learn, or should I say, what I see being a reiteration of something I already knew, in Ladybird, is the idea of being non-linear in the movement of life; and in the understanding of the same. We are always a ‘work in progress’ and never in any moment could we be reduced to an identifiable description of self. And let’s just say, it would be a heinous crime to self, by self, if the self is being seen and understood from the mind of the other.