10 Best Performances of 2013 (So Far)

We have arrived at the halfway point of 2013.  What has the cinema offered us so far?  In the first part of a multi-part retrospective, here are my favorite performances of the year so far.

Runners-up:  Benedict Cumberbatch, Star Trek Into Darkness; Henry Cavill, Man of Steel; James Franco, Spring Breakers; Mia Wasikowski, Stoker; Michael Cera, This Is the End

10) Ryan Gosling, The Place Beyond the Pines
Gosling and filmmaker Derek Cianfrance cobbled together some kind of alchemy in Blue Valentine in 2010 (with a little bit of help from Michelle Williams, in an Oscar-nominated performance.)  The sharpest instinct Cianfrance exhibited with his grander, messier follow-up work was reuniting with the resourceful Gosling.  In a film that ultimately bites off more than it's able to chew, the ingenious performer proves to be the best part of this ambitious triptych melodrama about fathers and sons and the overbearing consequences of ones past and upbringing.  Gosling's Luke is a rebel outcast in the mold of an old school antihero-- James Dean or Marlon Brando might have played this part had Place been made in the 1950s-- and yet despite the endless look of cool and mystique so fetishistically photographed by Cianfrance, Gosling shades his Robin Hood-like character with a brimming and soulful yearning.  Luke is the first part of The Place Beyond the Pines, and without spoiling anything, once he disappears, the film starts to crumble.

9) Mickey Sumner, Frances Ha
The ugly sting of nepotism rings a dampening effect to a budding young performer, a nearly contemptuous sneer at times.  However, sometimes a performance and film is so radiant and so effortlessly lived-in that in the private sanctuary of a movie palace, you can forget the entire world outside.  It needn't be necessary to know that Sumner is the offspring of Sting and Trudie Styler, and the film that surrounds her richly comic and well observed supporting turn, Frances Ha, is strong enough to make you forget nearly anything that ales.  As Sophie, Frances' BFF through the scary jungle of contemporary New York ennui, Sumner is sarcastic and ironic, sardonic, but also a lovesick dreamer.  To play such contradictory notes without ever falling into caricature is a testament to a hopefully inspired new artist; to turn them is something that's nearly moving is something even more special.

8) Jude Law, Side Effects
If Steven Soderbergh's retirement from the movies is in fact deemed true, at the very least, one can say, he went out with a hell of a year.  Surely, it will be HBO's Behind the Candelabra that will be the one to net the most trophies and esteemed hosannas, but his year began with the tight and delightfully warped little noir called Side Effects that just as effectively imbued all the skills that have complemented Soderbergh's career.  The first and most glaring compliment must be his work his actors, and in that regard, Jude Law's lithe and menacingly playful performance as slippery doctor who may or may not be being duped is worthy in it of itself of more acclaim than it will likely ever receive.  Law, it appears, may be on the upswing with surprisingly fruitful performances in not just Side Effects, but also last fall's anemic Anna Karenina, and his performance here is easily his most awake, alert and sharply keyed in than the actor has been since his career peak period that ascended in The Talented Mr. Ripley and swayed as Gigolo Joe in A.I. Artificial Intelligence.

7) Alden Ehrenreich, Beautiful Creatures
It was supposed to a silly little movie made in an attempt to cash in on the young adult star-crossed lovers/occult phase-- in short it was merely supposed to be a rip off of Twilight, and yet it somehow became 2013's most inexplicably ignored film critically and commercially.  Richard LaGravenese's Beautiful Creatures somehow, under some set of only-in-the-movies sort of magic is a gleefully underrated and joyous oddball of a movie about the teenage romance between a mortal boy and a witch.  Sounds pretty dull, but the writing, playful visuals and the potent performances that are sharp as a tick, but forever realizing what indeed this material really is make it one of the more pleasant surprises of the year.  Leading actor Alden Ehrenreich is perhaps the biggest surprise of all as the lovelorn Ethan Wade, a melding together of jock and nerd boy next door, he proves a charming leading man with a hopefully fruitful career ahead of him.  His performance here would blow Robert Pattinson and all the other mimics well away. 

6) Elle Fanning, Ginger & Rosa 
Elle Fanning, younger sister of Dakota, has for years been somewhat trapped in the doomed muse-like role for her leading men.  Sure, in films like Super 8 and Somewhere, Fanning had a captivating hold over the audience, but the characters themselves were used as little more than to serve her male co-stars.  Ginger & Rosa, a blink-and-you've-missed-it independent drama released this past spring gave Fanning the sharpest character she's yet to play, and the performer took to it with the natural precision of a gifted surgeon, even acquiring a believable British accent to boot.  As the rebellious young girl raised by a prim and conservative mother in the 1960s, Fanning shows incomparable diction and poise. 

5) Matthew McConaughey, Mud
Whatever happened in the last two years or so in the life of Matthew McConaughey, it was apparently and abundantly worth it.  For this sudden and startling period of productively in the career of the one-time nude-banjo-player is as surprising as any third act twist.  Mud, Jeff Nichols' follow-up to Take Shelter, made its inauspicious premiere at the 2012 Cannes Film Festival and left the stew for nearly a year before making its way to American movie houses.  The surprise (or perhaps not after the year the performer has having) was McConaughey's richly nuanced and beatifically observed performances as the titular Mud, a fugitive forever dreaming for a better life with the troubled girl whom he loves.  Nichols' film takes a few missteps along the way, and concludes as an utterly contrived yarn, but McConaughey's steely gaze and reserve is unsettling, sympathetic and in sharp command.

4) Gael Garcia Bernal, No
The invaluable Bernal has made a wondrous journeyman career for himself working alongside filmmakers as varied and vibrant as Michel Gondry, Pedro Almodovar, Alfonso Cuaron, Walter Salles and Alejandro González Inárritu and yet imbuing a rich, quiet humanity carried over every genre and tone.  With Pablo Larraín's bold and enriching No, Bernal has clearly and authoritatively honed in on his gift for the title of leading man with the most humility and compassion for his projects and characters.  There's never a false note in the complex and beautifully engrossing performance, nor a stance for side-swipping showboating-- every tic, manner and line reading in the service of this most superior film and while his most compelling humanistic approach to his characters may never give this exceptional performer the awards or plaudits he richly deserves, it's a novel and engrossing detail that has made Bernal one of the finest actors of his generation.

3) Nicole Kidman, Stoker
Chan-wook Park's English-language debut was a mixed bag of a film, but the biggest and most reassuring highlight was the beaut and hoot and a half of the performance that Kidman delivered.  She spends the majority of the film sidelined in her own little chamber piece of play-- a sort of lost Tennessee Williams heroine, but in the final moments unleashes a giddy showcase of maternal hell that frankly the subdued hothouse of a chiller needed a bit more of.  Kidman's ravenous contempt and rage all quivers to the seems in a chilling last-minute monologue that gives the chameleon actress finally something to chew on, and settles the film with a tasty bit of naughtiness.

2) Elizabeth Debicki, The Great Gatsby
Baz Luhrmann's lurid and colorful retelling of The Great Gatsby was supposed to the ultimate cinematic staging for the doomed star-crossed lovers Jay and Daisy, played here by Leonardo DiCaprio and Carey Mulligan.  However it was newcomer Debicki as the supporting player Jordan Baker who ran away with the best in show honors, not because Luhrmann showcased or particularly upped the impact of the role, but because Debicki brought a stylized charm and grace to the one-note acting proceedings, adding notes and abundant flair to her side-lined character.

1) Greta Gerwig, Frances Ha
My favorite film so far in 2013 also featured my favorite performance from the year so far, a caveat I'm fairly certain isn't going to change much come six months from now.  The two are most certainly connected as Gerwig is Frances and Frances is Gerwig, a wonderful melding of actor and character and character and film.  With this, it brings a bit of sadness that Gerwig is likely unlikely not going to a favorite for a leading actress Oscar nomination come winter, and may even be but a longshot for the Indie Spirits, but in my book her joyous, witty and beguilingly profound creation is worthy of a Nobel Peace Prize for its brute honesty and natural joie de vivre.

What are your favorite performances from the first six months of 2013?    

Frances Ha

"27 is old though," so says a friend to Frances (Greta Gerwig) in the new comedy Frances Ha, the gorgeous, generous and utterly beguiling new film from director Noah Baumbach.  The comment isn't said out of cruelty or resentment, it's uttered as an off the cuff observation of which both is and isn't true in itself, but it does unsettle Frances in it's brash honesty and bequeath an aura of reflection.  Frances is an aspiring dancer living in New York City who hops from apartment to apartment because she has none to call her own.  She has troubles with money and no actual job nor stable romantic relationship.  She has her friends, her intellect and the hopefulness that many young people lie to themselves (and others) about in keeping on, especially when that means pursuing something creative.  She is somewhat a symbol of twenty-something complacency-- a subset of a hyper literate, somewhat arrogant and entitled, irony infused generation sorting out and coming to terms with the messiness of adulthood.  It would be wrong to describe Frances Ha as a coming of age tale of a hipster gal getting finally her shit together, because the film, in all its quirky dalliances, rings truth in the romanticized notion of growing into, as Frances might put, a "real" person, if not quite a successful one.

In actuality, most of the film is a series of vignettes of the trouble Frances gets herself into and how the she digs herself deeper into a hole of failures and embarrassments.  That sounds about right coming from the acidic and puckish intellectualism that makes up the structural DNA of Mr. Baumbach's filmography (The Squid & the Whale, Margot at the Wedding, Greenberg), but the wonder and joy of Frances Ha comes from its warmth, wit and generous spirit.  It's an optimistic and genuinely warm-hearted confection of real life trials and tribulations spun into a vacuum that looks and feels like a French New Wave comedy remade as a 1970s-era Woody Allen film.  Gerwig co-scripted Frances Ha with Baumbach and from all appearances the relationship has opened something special in both of them.

Shot in charming black and white by Sam Levy, Frances Ha may strike firstly as Manhattan for the new millennium, and surely the glow and wonder of the city plays a character in the film itself.  Especially since the film is divided not by seasons or something of that ilk, but instead by the various apartments Frances lives in throughout the film-- there's even title cards that appear with actual street names, and the burroughs and adjacent playgrounds for Frances add an ironic and wistful playfulness to the film.  The film opens in somewhat harmony as Frances lives with best friend Sophie (Mickey Sumner aka Sting's daughter who makes a bewitching presence.)  The two, which Frances dubs "the same" drink and sneak cigs out their windows and entertain with one another with the story of them, in which Sophie becomes a huge literary publishing icon and Frances a world famous dancer.  I believe all generations can relate to such liquor-infused dialogues between pals.  The two are a sort of odd couple of sorts but even in their playful eccentricity (Frances is charmed by the notion that others believe they are in a long term, sexless lesbian romance), there's an honesty and novel truth to their friendship, the kind of which that can only bloom and become eternal with the shared twenty-something failures.

Frances' world turns on when Sophie moves in with her boyfriend and cuddly play fighting turns real.  There's always that silly belief that certain blissful and seemingly cosmic friendships can never be disturbed, not even by the realities of growing up.  Frances (her last name is decidedly not Ha-- that is decided by charming final shot), ever quick on her feet, moves in with two male buddies-- Benji (Michael Zegen) and Lev (Girls' Adam Driver)-- in a pricy three bedroom apartment.  Again money becomes an issue-- this is a young woman who is clamors with excitement when a tax rebate arrives in the mail and gives her an opportunity to invite a boy to a real dinner (of which leads to comical blunder)-- and Frances continues her mooching.  This includes a holiday spent with parents in Sacramento, which surmises a lovely montage, and a quick weekend getaway to Paris (more destructive than romantic.)

Through it all, Frances Ha manages to never sway to the maudlin or depressing, even as Frances' opportunities seem to vanish from beneath her.  That's due to the strange and lovely gifts Gerwig invests into her singular character.  She's plays a dancer, but is not quite graceful, but utterly spirited.  She moves in an utterly balletic way however, whether teaching a class of young girls or running through the streets of New York in search of an ATM, or in the films most potent and rousing sequence, scrambling through the streets as Bowie's "Modern Love" blares most joyously on the soundtrack.  Gerwig creates the impression of a slapstick-prone slouch, but it's just the guise of a skillfully physical performer-- like a musician who makes a purposeful flub on purpose for effect.  It's enough to make Frances' career ambition both credible and a tad ridiculous, itself a truth for the many marginally talented sorts casting aside stability in pursuit of art.  The physicality is not merely present when Frances is prancing around however, as she adds a burst of energy and nuance to scenes where an ironic glare or shoulder shrug make everything just slightly more awkward than they should be.  It's a brilliant performance.  A

"Frances Ha" Trailer

This may be just looking for failure, but based merely on the trailer alone, Frances Ha may just be my favorite film so far of 2013.  Greta Gerwig, who co-wrote the screenplay with director and paramour Noah Baumbach, stars as a neurotic, budding dancer in this black and white, only in New York comedy/drama.  Thankfully, it did earn nice notices from last years festival circuit.  We shall find out this May. 

Cinema Shame- 2012 Edition

As I start to get myself together-- with the full realization that we are already mid-way through the first half of January 2013-- that annual twitchy anxiety yet again rears its ugly head as I formulate the last year of the filmmaking.  The truncated awards season is not helping much, typically there's another week or two to go before Oscar nominations.  Blerg.  I start my annual kvetching, first with something I sure about-- what didn't work.  I'll put aside easy targets that yielded uncomfortable viewing for me this past year-- the like of Wrath of the Titans, Dark Shadows, The Odd Life of Timothy Green, What to Expect When You're Expecting, as well, they all sucked, and further more why venture into half witted commentary on subject not nearly at worthy of it, or of items no one their right minds remember much of anyway.

CLOUD ATLAS (The Waschowskis, Tom Tykwer)- The OMG of worst of filmmaking in 2012 comes from three filmmakers, each of whom perhaps past their prime or novelty, a world class ensemble of movie stars and journeymen, and spans thousands of years in telling six disparate, but interconnected tales of, well something I'm sure.  There's a wealth of ambition, pyrotechnics, prosthetics, and pseudo gravitas, but the film a convoluted, pretentious mind fuck is also cold and insufferable, uneven to to point to be grandly ridiculous and long enough to arouse enough shuffling in ones seat to the point of dehydration and, I'm sure, a litmus of health of risks.  Perhaps that's being mean, but Cloud Atlas, with all its metaphysical daydreaming, is a film that yearns and believes its about everything, and in truth, it's about nothing at all except the brief novelty of a catching a game and rotating chess game of actors dive further into a needless rabbit hole that's head scratching and alternately alienating, confusing, and a bit racist.  Further more, the six strands of inter-connected gobbledygook are less bewitching separately making a product that cannot stand on the sum of it's parts because there's sparsely little their to begin with. 

COSMOPOLIS (David Croenberg)- Imagine spending two hours with the most deathly boring, abhorrent slice of humanity in the back of a limousine in an endless and fatiguing quest to, get this- get a haircut.  That specimen belongs to Robert Pattinson, in an effort for the Teen Beat incarnate of modern vampire romanticism to grow, or perhaps atone, as an actor.  Croenberg's films are always superbly crafted, and while Cosmopolis is certainly ambitious in it's thematic melding of the end of the world foreshadowing with Occupy-like hysteria, the material is so drab, stagey, and moribund that it becomes a draining couple of hours spent in the company of pseudo-intellectual types spewing needless nonsense in the man of art.  Pattinson, it appears, has further atoning to do-- getting a prostate exam in an art film does not equate a great artist.

"THE GRETA GERWIG DOUBLE FEATURE FROM HELL"- Greta Gerwig, the mumblecore romantic heroine, discovered after an appropriately praised performance in the misbegotten Noah Boambach dramedy Greenberg came off age in two headlining 2012 indie comedies, and both were nearly unwatchable.  The first was Whit Stillman's alien and oddly scoped anti-feminist curveball Damsels in Distress, and the second, the stifled and second rate Woody Allen carnival of neurosis in Lola Versus.  Coincidentally, Gerwig was also featured in To Rome With Love-- read below.  I still find myself interested in this unlikely movie star, whose slanted off-kilter line readings and cadences are certainly different and hopefully a right fit for some filmmaker, but this was not the coming out party for her this year.

HITCHCOCK (Sasha Gervasi)- The gloves deserve to come off so to speak in this ungracious, ever looking for a tone film that teases with early-Hollywood allure with insight into the making of Psycho and the genius behind it.  Something for the movie geeks to pine at, and at first, I was willing to take the bait, until I realized what a silly, barely together slight of hand truly on hand from director Sasha Gervasi, and nagging, winking portrait by Anthony Hopkins.  Replacing the fun, gentile ride with behind the scenes dirt on the making of one of the most savory pieces of filmmaking of time, with a dull scenes from a marriage burst the cinematic bubble, and dared to turn a subject so fascinating and gleefully alive into something so downtrodden and slow.  Hitchcock at once makes a fool of its subjects and moreso of it's actors-- especially Helen Mirren, the sprightliest of Dames reduced to second hand material and a particularly dull backstory, likely juiced just to woo her in the first place.  What's left is not fun, more so, it's quite deadly.

TO ROME WITH LOVE (Woody Allen)- The reasons for returning to the yearly ritual of a Woody Allen film are partly because the romanticism of his necessary work (Annie Hall, Manhattan, Hannah & Her Sisters, The Purple Rose of Cairo) is enough to take part-- Allen's very best will eternally play in a wonderful loop in head.  Also, even in the recent hit and miss, keep going run of his modern work, there's a surprise to behold every so often in the sea of Curse of the Jade Scorpion missteps.  Last years Midnight in Paris holds that to be true, as does the small pleasures of trifles like Vicky Cristina Barcelona and Match Point.  To Rome With Love is an epic blunder, however, a half-assed Euro bit of cheese, with neither any filling nor topping.  The boring and trite unconnected stories that make up Allen's Italian vacation harvest neither wit nor pleasure, but instead bore with barely cobbled together ruminations of celebrity, romance, sex and opera singing in the shower?- whatever-ness.  Any of which are things Allen has done better thousands of times, and without any bombast, nor an exceeding running time-- okay, it's barely a two hour film, but it felt like ten dull hours in half-wit Allen mode.  The briefest respite comes from Judy Davis, whose heavenly line readings offer the solace in one of Allen's worst.

And a special award to:

LEE DANIELS, writer and director of THE PAPERBOY
Cast aside after it's embarrassing showing at this years Cannes Film Festival, and cemented as the novelty freak show where Nicole Kidman pees on Zac Efron, The Paperboy-- despite some top talent involved including Matthew McConaughey (a blip on his unmatched year), John Cusack, Macy Gray and Nicole Kidman, to one who almost manages to get ahead of this stinking trainwreck-- this thundering piece of cinematic shame begs the question on which may be the worst follow-up in history to an Oscar-winning success story.  Daniels rightfully earned praise for Precious, but The Paperboy, with it's rote and pretentious style, flow and dirty energy may prove a top contender for that prize.  Ugly, unsubtle, and only wannabe-gritty, The Paperboy was handily the trashiest piece of filmmaking of 2012, but decorated in the veneer of laudable art project.  Daniels wastes the abundant talents of his cast and crew, and the time of the poor suckers spent in the auditorium of this filth.

Lola Versus

In the twee art house romantic comedy Lola Versus, a late-twenties drifter named Lola (Greta Gerwig) combats her relationships, friendships, and ultimately herself after being dumped by her fiance shortly before their wedding.  There's a genuine fascination to Gerwig herself, a skillful, if overly specific, actress who in films like Greenberg and this springs Damsels in Distress has a particular way of selling a line, and a killer deadpan delivery.  She seems to bring a almost unknowable kind of intelligence and introspection to her characters, one that makes you invested and rooted in trying to understand them better.  However, she's also clearly never going to be a girl-next-door type of leading lady, and nor should she try to be packaged as such.  In Daryl Wein's ode to near-thirties malaise, there's an irritatingly high-minded hipster conceit at the very start of Lola Versus, one that seems to shout that this is a film to speak for a generation of lost (albeit very pretty) young adults in various stages of arrested development.  Lola's plight should feel earned to those of Benjamin Bradock's or the ironically tuned Reality Bites kids.  Not quite, the lost person trying to find themselves act can only really ring true when the characters are given a chance to do so; also it helps when the characters surrounding them don't read like silly non-sequitors seemingly appearing in their own films.

In a lengthy prologue we meet Lola, a happy ironic, nearly bohemian type in love with her dreamy long time boyfriend (Joel Kinnaman.)  The two enjoy healthy sex and cutesy, idiosyncratic breakfast foods in their quaint Manhattan loft-- for extra arty pretension, he's a budding painter and she's earning her PhD.  The couple gets engaged, when suddenly, after a cuddly montage of happy pre-wedding moments, he calls it quits and Lola is upended.  Whatever is Lola going to do?  The film almost devolves into a five stages of guilt evolution as the character goes from near martyr to a grown adult.  The steps to get there, while at times, slightly humorous, also play long in the tooth, because of the meandering and self indulgent (not to mention overly familiar) beats Lola Versus charts.  Feeling lost and off center is certainly a common cinematic road, and it works often because everyone feels that way every once in a while, but must it also be a drag as well.  Gerwig slumps and cries and as her Damsels in Distress character might say is going through a "tailspin," but there's such a half-hearted unevenness in the missteps Lola takes before the eventual self-redemptive final act.

The steps Lola takes to finding herself include sleeping around, destructive meetings with the man who broke her heart, and a half-assed affair with one of her best friends, played by go-to arthouse nerd\romantic Hanish Linklater (The Future.)  Lola Versus is clearly modeled in the (500) Days of Summer-type of indie isn't it romantic, but not quite dynamic defined by quirk and characterizations just left of normal human behavior, but while that film that a near romantic charm mostly attributed to it's interesting non-linear pacing, Lola Versus devolves into a small-scaled story of a lost girl who in the end doesn't appear too likable.  Gerwig challenges this with her sometimes insightful introspection and disarming, so ironic-it's-not stance, but there's a lack of pull to the center of her story.  Her parents in the film are played by Debra Winger and Bill Pullman in almost desperate acts of older generation performers trying to earn cool points.

There's an even more ugly summation to be associated with Lola Versus, a nearly sweet R-rated romantic comedy of sorts where all the R-rated parts fell like sub-Apatow like attempts at trying to win over the raunchy comedy crowd, a la Bridesmaids.  There's really no need for her best friend, an avante-garde off-Broadway actress to be so vulgar, nor a plot point designated to one of Lola's sex buddies be extended to the size of his penis.  We saw a similar thing earlier this year with another grown up arthouse draw that used unneeded vulgarity as more a desperate marketing tool than a firmer shaper of story with Friends With Kids.  Perhaps if Wein had a smarter sense to tell a smaller, more honest portrait of a young woman learning to find self-fulfillment, Lola Versus would have less trouble fighting its audiences better instincts.  C

Damsels in Distress

It's been thirteen years since writer\director Whit Stillman has graced the screen with an original creation.  He was celebrated, and Oscar-nominated, for his unique, almost indescribable voice with 1990's Metropolitan and continued his divisive, remarkably skillful eye for deadpan dialogue and almost elitist point of view with moderate art house hits Barcelona (1994) and The Last Days of Disco (1998.)  Nearly more idiosyncratic than the majority of American art house filmmakers, Stillman is striking because of his blend of a time and a space filled with characters, seemingly of great intelligence, that for lack of a better comparison, felt almost a cross between Woody Allen and Wes Anderson (before Wes Anderson.)  Ideally, the early 90s was an ideal time for this newly evocative voice to emerge, fresh to thrive somewhat in the era where alienating, yet unique voices like Todd Solondz, Gregg Araki, Todd Haynes and yes even Wes Anderson, were making their marks.  That culture in the American independent world has changed over the past decade, for good or bad is up to the eyes of the beholder.  However, in viewing Stillman's return Damsels in Distress, it appears that Stillman's voice has changed too.  And it appears not as fresh or as droll as his earlier works, but a bit beleaguered and far too out of touch with any sort of connection to the real world.

His latest takes place in a posh New England university, and is centered around a group of girls who appear not nearly alienated from their own generation, but alienated from any generation.  The same could be said for the film itself-- for this merrily filmed, pastel-colored production could almost be set in Mars with its relation to the real world.  Our group of girls-- headed by queen bee Violet (Greta Gerwig)-- are healers of such, but of an ironic, nearly Mean Girls meets the debutante ball variety.   Their purpose, if there is such, in this nearly nonsensical film, is to challenge and change the status quo of their peers.  Randomly these healing sessions include the importance of good hygiene (mixed with anachronistic clothing sense), the preference of suitors less cool, smart, or interesting then themselves, and a goal of preventing students from killing themselves (donuts and tap dancing are their preferred method of standing off depression.)  The real question, that's dressed up and partially masked by Stillman's unmatched verbiage and unquestionable knack for clever one liners, is what is point?

There's a sense towards the beginning that Violet's strange agendas and rejection to the seemingly bourgeoisie will be challenged by the arrival of transfer student Lily (played by the adorably waif  Analeigh Tipton-- the babysitter from Crazy, Stupid, Love.)  Lily's slightly rebellious action with her newly acquired friends is to, invariably, act rather normal.  Violet also has heart broken from her latest dim quest which sends her into, in her own words a "tailspin"-- she's actually quite mad herself, but never fully realized as a character or as more than an air quoted mask of whatever by Stillman.  Once a new, and again, quite strange boy (played by Adam Brody) enters the mix, again the audience eagerly awaits for something to actually happen.  Again, it's audience-- even those who may have been charmed in the past by Stillman's prior works-- are disappointed.  Gerwig has a nifty verve with some of the playful lines that Stillman displays, but like the rest of the cast, appears out of place with whatever retro-nonsense Damsels in Distress finally settles on.  C-