Ryan Gosling

Lili’s Pick: The Big Short

Lanie’s Pick: Lars and the Real Girl

I know what you’re thinking. ANOTHER category of film that’s not actually a category of film, just some bro? Yes. And we reserve these spots only for those bros that are most worthy of our time and energy and viewership. In the least misandrist way possible, leading men can have the tendency to piss me off, so I often seek out those with the most range—those who can carry a role with a certain humility and ease. Ryan Gosling is a rare gem of an actor, one who can play a heartbreaker just as easily as he can portray a loner, one who seems to step into every role with a genuine excitement and commitment. It’s for this reason that we viewed two VERY different Ryan Gosling features: Adam McKay’s The Big Short, and Craig Gillespie’s Lars and the Real Girl. The Big Short, in typical, Adam McKay fashion, was a frenzy of bro-fights, bro-humor, and bro-mosexual tension that I was definitely reading into too much. This is one of those frenetic, fast-paced narratives that leave little room for breathing, but it at least seemed to be aware of its intangibly complicated premise, and I appreciated how Ryan Gosling represented an omniscient, overseeing figure who could articulate the plot for us laymen. I love movies because they have the power to make even math compelling. I understood the broad storyline of this film, but the specifics? The loosest grasp possible. If I were a math teacher, which I am in my nightmare scenarios, I would just make my class watch this movie and say: if you can explain the individual terms of this financial lexicon and the system it’s borne out of, you get an A. And if you’re thinking “wow this chick must suck at math”, you’re not even close to comprehending how much I fucking suck at math. Regardless of that learning disabled elephant in the room, I thoroughly enjoyed this movie, despite it’s somewhat dizzying Mr. Robot/The Office cinematographic style. So if you’re thinking to yourself, where can I find a more confusing, less charming Wolf of Wall Street, look no further.

Completely switching gears, tone, and intention, let’s get into Lars and the Real Girl. This is... a very special movie. It exists in a very small category of films that tell the stories of weirdos, in the right way. It’s quite hard to make a story about a weirdo without being exploitative—I believe a film can arrive at that lens unintentionally, like in The Disaster Artist or Dinner for Schmucks. But there’s a way to tell a story about a weirdo that is not only sympathetic, but inspiring. There is a peaceful, solemn quality to this film, similar to what Her embodies, and yet it feels even more warm and familiar to me here. I was terrified this film would be sad, that this character of a man who falls in love with a sex doll would be someone who is analyzed or worse, gawked at, only to realize upon finally watching it that he is celebrated. Lars and the Real Girl is a movie made with love. It looks in the face of the normies who think they’ve got it figured out, and asks: Why do you question the somewhat odd behavior of this individual, instead of your immediate response to them? We truly are a society of freaks, so it blows my mind whenever someone feels emboldened enough to judge another human being on a matter as diverse and layered as personal taste. My sister carries a doll around with her most places she goes, and whenever someone stares or says anything judgmental, they are, in my mind, outing themselves as people who have experienced the most mundane, shallow version of life. I may be alone in this, but I’ve met so many wonderfully weird people who have the strangest hobbies imaginable: some charming, some off-putting, and because of this, I could never imagine staring at them or judging them. People are less intimidating, and more alike the more you get to know them, and Lars and the Real Girl represented this so so well. Life is short, and to scrutinize one’s harmless, bizarre interests, seems like such a monumental waste of time. This movie, and really, Ryan Gosling’s astounding portrayal of this lovable weirdo, normalized and humanized weirdness in such a beautiful, effortless way—in a way I’ve very rarely seen. This should’ve come as no surprise to me, as Craig Gillespie accomplished something similarly humanizing with I, Tonya—a story of a controversial, misunderstood figure, whom he and Margot Robbie were able to frame as wildly sympathetic. To be an outsider, to be misunderstood, is a placement in society no one wants. And yet, Gillespie’s choice to center his stories around this archetype only makes them seem more normal, more interesting, and more like “us”. At the end of the film, I could feel tears welling up, not out of sadness, but of profound happiness and hope. On the surface, this movie exuded a troubling, gloomy energy—at least it did to me, but the tone here is not all gloom and doom. It’s a story of coming out of yourself, of learning to let yourself be loved, despite every idiosyncrasy you possess, that you’ve been conditioned to think is weird. We’re roughly a year into this pandemic now, and my faith in humanity has almost shriveled into non existence. But it’s movies like these, ones that offer kindness, and patience, and even the slightest bit of understanding to even the weirdest of the weirdos that warm my heart, and try to fill it with a little hope.