Plastic Doll Drama Is Poignant
For a psychological fairy tale with a happy ending, see Lars and the Real Girl, but keep in mind it is a fairy tale. How much of this is realistic is best judged by medical doctors and that is an important caveat. Without revealing the plot, count me as doubtful whether what happens is possible, let alone desirable. Accepting this fable for what it is—the story of a mentally handicapped person's rebirth—means enjoying an engrossing and humorous drama.
Sex is the impetus for the metamorphosis of Lars (Ryan Gosling), whose mother died during his birth, leaving an emotional void in a crippled family. His development is not only arrested—it is fundamentally breached (which is what makes this a fantasy). Lars barely speaks, responds or connects to humans—he does not even grasp an act of kindness. When a fellow church parishioner gives him a flower, flushed and flustered Lars hurls it away as if by instinct. He does so at the sight of an attentive young woman named Margo (Kelli Garner).
Kind, feminine and confident, plain Margo is the real girl. She embodies the picture's subtext that sexuality is an essential part of man's nature, encapsulated in a larger theme about approximating reality in order to reconnect to it. An anatomically correct blow-up doll that Lars buys on the Web—aroused by Margo's unabashed interest—provides the movie's humor, but it is merely a gateway.
Several relationships are put in a sort of spin cycle, each revolving around the title character's imaginary bond with plastic Bianca, as delusional Lars dubs the doll. Upon the advice of the local doctor (Patricia Clarkson), Bianca is treated as real by the whole town—by way of providing stammering, stubbornly passive Lars with his first instances of real human contact.
On some level, Lars and the Real Girl suggests, Lars is able to function and distinguish between what's fake and what's real. He knows to bring a bottle of wine to a party host, he knows he is heterosexual and he knows his sister-in-law (Emily Mortimer) is pregnant. This knowledge of reality—contradicted by his delusion, which is a total breakdown of his ability to think—forms the plot's foundation.
Bianca is widely accepted, though not initially, especially not by Lars' brother, Gus, portrayed by Paul Schneider (The Family Stone) in an outstanding performance. Schneider takes the anxious, hilarious and infuriating older brother from villain to human in an amazing sweep of emotions—the archetypical, non-verbal male who can scarcely form a sentence about his thoughts. Gus is excruciating to watch and he provides vital support to Lars, whose incredible past seems credible thanks to guilt-ridden, agonized Gus.
Gus is married to Karin (Mortimer), who wants to work after the baby's delivered—she's no docile housewife—and their photograph is perched at the cubicle where Lars endures his co-worker's online porn displays. The town is filled with decent people—Lars and the Real Girl thankfully celebrates instead of denigrates middle class American values—from strong women that show resolve during a crisis to strong men that reach out to—instead of putting down—those who are weaker.
This is the world Lars, a disowned self struggling through his mind/body dichotomy, lives in. The town enables his delusion on the premise that it cannot hurt and might help. In the process, Lars, bundled up in sweaters, jackets and yearning to thaw, learns to be courteous and tactful, to grieve, to sing and to accept gratitude. He learns to be touched. Of course, this is to say he learns to be human and, while it is a basic lesson, it is convincingly everything to Lars, thanks to Gosling's excellent performance.
Naturally, everyone in town—from Gus and Karin to the doctor—learns from Lars, too, and much of this we have seen before, usually in charming foreign movies in which the town rallies to the aid of an innocent victim. Karin and Gus are bonded in tears and laughter, and the town is ultimately unified in celebration of their values. It is tempting to see their complicity as faking reality yet, on the movie's terms, they act on their knowledge of the facts of reality. Town and outcast reach their pinnacle in a bowling alley, a restrained scene in which everyone—audience and players alike—roots for everyone on screen to bowl a strike.
Lars ends his poignant journey at a predictable and rewarding destination, finishing with a single word of affirmation. With a medical asterisk as disclaimer, Lars and the Real Girl, directed by Craig Gillespie (who directed the embarrassing Mr. Woodcock), is an intriguing, feel-good fairy tale that goes the distance.
Sex is the impetus for the metamorphosis of Lars (Ryan Gosling), whose mother died during his birth, leaving an emotional void in a crippled family. His development is not only arrested—it is fundamentally breached (which is what makes this a fantasy). Lars barely speaks, responds or connects to humans—he does not even grasp an act of kindness. When a fellow church parishioner gives him a flower, flushed and flustered Lars hurls it away as if by instinct. He does so at the sight of an attentive young woman named Margo (Kelli Garner).
Kind, feminine and confident, plain Margo is the real girl. She embodies the picture's subtext that sexuality is an essential part of man's nature, encapsulated in a larger theme about approximating reality in order to reconnect to it. An anatomically correct blow-up doll that Lars buys on the Web—aroused by Margo's unabashed interest—provides the movie's humor, but it is merely a gateway.
Several relationships are put in a sort of spin cycle, each revolving around the title character's imaginary bond with plastic Bianca, as delusional Lars dubs the doll. Upon the advice of the local doctor (Patricia Clarkson), Bianca is treated as real by the whole town—by way of providing stammering, stubbornly passive Lars with his first instances of real human contact.
On some level, Lars and the Real Girl suggests, Lars is able to function and distinguish between what's fake and what's real. He knows to bring a bottle of wine to a party host, he knows he is heterosexual and he knows his sister-in-law (Emily Mortimer) is pregnant. This knowledge of reality—contradicted by his delusion, which is a total breakdown of his ability to think—forms the plot's foundation.
Bianca is widely accepted, though not initially, especially not by Lars' brother, Gus, portrayed by Paul Schneider (The Family Stone) in an outstanding performance. Schneider takes the anxious, hilarious and infuriating older brother from villain to human in an amazing sweep of emotions—the archetypical, non-verbal male who can scarcely form a sentence about his thoughts. Gus is excruciating to watch and he provides vital support to Lars, whose incredible past seems credible thanks to guilt-ridden, agonized Gus.
Gus is married to Karin (Mortimer), who wants to work after the baby's delivered—she's no docile housewife—and their photograph is perched at the cubicle where Lars endures his co-worker's online porn displays. The town is filled with decent people—Lars and the Real Girl thankfully celebrates instead of denigrates middle class American values—from strong women that show resolve during a crisis to strong men that reach out to—instead of putting down—those who are weaker.
This is the world Lars, a disowned self struggling through his mind/body dichotomy, lives in. The town enables his delusion on the premise that it cannot hurt and might help. In the process, Lars, bundled up in sweaters, jackets and yearning to thaw, learns to be courteous and tactful, to grieve, to sing and to accept gratitude. He learns to be touched. Of course, this is to say he learns to be human and, while it is a basic lesson, it is convincingly everything to Lars, thanks to Gosling's excellent performance.
Naturally, everyone in town—from Gus and Karin to the doctor—learns from Lars, too, and much of this we have seen before, usually in charming foreign movies in which the town rallies to the aid of an innocent victim. Karin and Gus are bonded in tears and laughter, and the town is ultimately unified in celebration of their values. It is tempting to see their complicity as faking reality yet, on the movie's terms, they act on their knowledge of the facts of reality. Town and outcast reach their pinnacle in a bowling alley, a restrained scene in which everyone—audience and players alike—roots for everyone on screen to bowl a strike.
Lars ends his poignant journey at a predictable and rewarding destination, finishing with a single word of affirmation. With a medical asterisk as disclaimer, Lars and the Real Girl, directed by Craig Gillespie (who directed the embarrassing Mr. Woodcock), is an intriguing, feel-good fairy tale that goes the distance.
