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Alexander Skarsgard and Kristen Wiig are the far-from-adult adults in 'Diary of a Teenage Girl'
((SONY PICTURES CLASSICS))
"The Diary of a Teenage Girl" is a movie about young women, the power they can draw from their sexuality, and the confusion they can feel about how to use it.
That makes it exciting.
It is also a movie which doesn't judge its characters or condemn their most reprehensible acts -- no matter how much you may want it to. And that makes it unusual, and for some viewers, difficult.
The story - based on a graphic novel by Phoebe Gloeckner, and directed by first-timer Marielle Heller - is the tale of Minnie, a 15-year-old growing up in late-'70s, everything-is-permitted San Francisco.
She's a quiet misfit with a bad haircut, huge eyes, and a passionate love for Iggy Pop and underground comix. Also for Monroe, her single mom's hunky boyfriend - a lust that's requited.
And, one afternoon, consummated.
As a moviegoer - let alone as a father - I'm not embarrassed to admit I kept waiting for, hoping for, a scene where this pervert got slapped around, or at least told off. Spoiler alert here, but - it never happens, which left me unsatisfied, as best.
I had no difficulties with Minnie enjoying and exploring sex (particularly in those pre-AIDS days). But no matter how empowered she feels, her adult "lover" is a statutory rapist who deserves more than the movie's mildly disapproving shrug.
But to be fair, that attitude applies to every character in the film. No, scummy Monroe isn't called out. But neither is Minnie, for her recreational drug use and occasionally dangerous sexcapades. Or, for that matter, her mother, Charlotte - who seems to spend most of her time fueling up on coke and chardonnay.
So this is not a movie to go to for moralizing. It is one to look to, however, for some very human people, and a beguilingly artful style.
Although Kristen Wiig - in another daring performance, in yet another small indie movie from a female filmmaker - is very good as Charlotte, and Alexander Skarsgard dangerously appealing as Monroe, this is Bel Powley's movie. The young British actress is perfect as Minnie, and she gets all the teenage signifiers right - the bursts of teen rebellion, of childlike sweetness, of babyish need.
And director Heller approaches the film in just the right way: As an absolute outgrowth of arty Minnie's own pent-up creativity. People turn into drawings and then animation; grimy street scenes explode with flowers. Late in the story, Minnie takes a tab of acid, and you have to wonder why she'd even need to; her own imagination is a constant trip, and the film is continuously on it.
"Diary of a Teenage Girl" has its share of rough spots; the drama in a few scenes isn't really sold the way it could be, the significance of a few essential turning points implied rather than underlined. And, again, you may find yourself wishing that someone, at some point, stood up on screen and told Charlotte that she needed to get her act together, and told Monroe he's a creep.
But this film isn't like that - and, to be fair, neither are diaries. They are just emotional records - this is what happened to be, and this is what it felt like if it did. The real analysis of those tear-stained pages - the real judgements - only comes years later.
Ratings note: The film contains graphic sexual situations, nudity, strong language and substance abuse, much of it by minors.
Stephen Whitty may be reached at stephenjwhitty@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @stephenwhitty. Find him on Facebook.