Girls on Film: Laggies embraces a new era of self-discovery

No matter how times change, most people think of life as following a set path. As Mark Duplass' Ben said in Lynn Shelton's indie hit Humpday:

The "white picket fence" myth is our standard for adulthood, and the backbone of many a movie's happy ending. Protagonists may suffer under heaps of contrived drama, but they'll ultimately figure out how to be a happy adult in their work, home, and love lives.

On paper, Lynn Shelton's latest, Laggies, appears to be no different. Laggies is Shelton's most slickly mainstream film to date, telling the story of a woman who must loosen the stranglehold of teen nostalgia and embrace the world of adulthood and responsibility. But rather than being an exercise in conformity, Laggies finds the courage to defy convention.

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Keira Knightley stars as Megan, a smart but stagnant 20-something who doesn't know what she wants to do with her life. She only knows what she doesn't want: the new personalities her high-school friends are adopting to be adults. They have given up their more idiosyncratic roots to wholeheartedly embrace what they consider adulthood: carefully rehearsed dances, trendy restaurants with gigantic Buddha statues, and baby names that outdo even the wackiest celebrity concoctions.

As her friends earnestly embrace their new lives and fail to see the irony of their choices, Megan feels more and more alienated — especially when the stalwart, her boyfriend Anthony (Mark Webber), desperately tries to catch up. "I need to keep progressing — otherwise, I'll just sink," he explains. Anthony follows other people's suggestions on how to be an adult, which leads him straight into an ill-conceived proposal — and leads Megan into a panic.

After inventing a convincing cover story, Megan decides to hide out at Annika's (Chloe Grace Moretz), a local teen she has befriended. Though it sounds like a perfectly ridiculous way to handle one's problems, spending time at Annika's ends up being precisely what Megan needs — an environment that doesn't dictate what she should do and allows her to figure out her own position in the world.

The scenario works because her journey isn't about putting on a personality; it's about finding her own. Everyone thinks Megan is immature, but it's only when she interacts with two extremes — young Annika and her father Craig (Sam Rockwell) — that she figures out that she has matured since high school. Megan isn't immature; she's just been caught in a social structure that devalues her and makes her feel and seem juvenile. Megan might enjoy her time with the kids, but she immediately sees the contrast in their maturity levels. Likewise, with Craig, she finds an adult whom she can genuinely talk to — even if she is a strange grown-up hiding out in his kid's bedroom.

As her friends follow the dictates of culture's definition of adulthood, Megan pushes back. She is, as she calls it, a snake needing to shed its old skin. By befriending a teen girl, she embraces her own adulthood by discovering what being "mature" means to her.

Shelton doesn't completely begrudge Megan's friends their choices. In contrast to her protagonist, these well-coiffed women are a bit ridiculous, but they're not the frenemies they might appear to be at first glance. Shelton treats them with respect; they're incompatible with Megan's world, but they're also people who deeply care about her and wish she'd join their world of mommy blogging.

By setting up these classic, comedic extremes, Laggies manages to be both wildly human and trend breaking. Megan is a woman who blindly followed the "you should" life advice that motivated her friends before she realized she didn't fit into this particular box. She is a woman who doesn't fit into the soulless narrative of success and self-discovery — one that has only gained power and volume in the internet age — and finds a world that works for her instead.

Laggies is an intensely personal story, but it's also part of a growing voice in women-centric indie cinema. Female protagonists are increasingly embracing surprising extremes as they rebel against the norm. In last year's Afternoon Delight and Concussion, women explored sex work and exotic dancing to work through their own alienation. This month also sees the release of Jen McGowan's directorial debut Kelly & Cal, in which Juliette Lewis plays a mother who, after failing to connect with the other local moms, befriends a brash teen boy who reminds her of who she used to be. Flirtation with more daring and youthful impulses can be a solid form of escapism — but in the hands of female filmmakers like Shelton, McGowan, Jill Soloway, and Stacie Passon, it has become a method for women to get back to their roots. It is a reminder of what came before these very particular brands of adulthood, paving way for a Coming of Age 2.0, where dignity is not about societal expectation, but being true to yourself.

Laggies speaks to the changing identities we take on — the interests and attitudes that come with trying to fit into the next phase in life, as a wife, mother, professional, or even simply an adult. Laggies is described as "a comedy about acting your age and other adult decisions," and it turns out that the most adult decision of all is knowing yourself.

Girls on Film is a weekly column focusing on women and cinema. It can be found at TheWeek.com every Friday morning. And be sure to follow the Girls on Film Twitter feed for additional femme-con.