How Saint Frances dismantles the all-pervasive image of the ‘perfect woman.’
From the opening minutes of Saint Frances it’s clear that this is a film dismantling taboos not overtly but through a comedic and moving tale of female bonds, social pressures and motherhood, with a realistic depiction of female experience at the fore.
After the first few scenes we see Bridget (Kelly O’Sullivan, who also wrote the script) wake up to a surprise period, finding blood all over the bed…and the guy from the night before laying in it.
But the script’s ability to treat this with the normalcy it deserves is a refreshing rejection of Hollywood’s enduring neglect of this representation.
Maggie Gyllenhaal’s debut feature The Lost Daughter has been lauded in recent months for its unveiling of the taboo that motherhood comes naturally to all women. But Saint Frances, released 2 years before this, is similarly radical in dealing with these themes and deserves just as much attention.
When Bridget’s mother recalls her early years of motherhood when she wanted to swing the wailing baby Bridget’s “little head into the wall over and over until it was a bloody pulp”, O’Sullivan presents a brilliant refute of taboos surrounding the ‘all-giving mother’ that closely resemble Olivia Colman’s powerful declaration that she is an “unnatural” caregiver.
Moreover, its ability to show an appropriately exhausted “barely functioning…milk machine” in Charin Alavrez’s Maya is a far cry from the cringe-inducing, unblemished perfection of Penelope Cruz and Ana Smit as the Parallel Mothers in Almodovar’s latest release.
These often side-stepped themes (pressures of motherhood; abortion; periods etc.) are so seamlessly woven into the film that they expand the on-screen representation of women with such ease that you hardly notice it’s happening. They are not made the central focus but become cogs working within the wider plot.
Indeed, O’Sullivan said of the abortion plot that:
“It was important for us to have a film that has abortion as a plot point, but doesn’t define this person for the whole story
“she is [not] ‘the woman who has the abortion’….No. It’s one event amid a whole lifetime.”
Aside from these larger themes, though, the film is also oh-so refreshing in its ability to include tinier details down to Bridget’s purple-veined feet that effortlessly smash down the image of the ‘perfect woman’ that can feel inescapable.
The story follows Bridget, a 34 year-old waitress unsure of what to do with her life and surrounded by peers with babies, careers and that nauseating self-absorption characteristic of modern day momfluencers.
After hooking up with the younger Jace (Max Lipchitz), Bridget finds herself facing an unwanted pregnancy. It is at this time that she takes on a nanny job for the summer, caring for Fances, or Franny, (Ramona Edith Williams) whose well-to-do mothers, Maya and Annie (Charin Alavrez and Lily Mojekwu), are beginning to struggle with the birth of their son. This nannying works in tandem with Bridget’s attempts to deal with her abortion and the societal pressures of motherhood placed on her, all while her relationship with Franny grows.
It’s the balancing act of comedy and heavier themes that the marvellous movie gets right.
Franny’s humorous and precocious statement about period products that “I should use whatever is comfortable for my body because all women’s bodies are different” sees a voice of innocence evoke a laugh while simultaneously removing the shame that usually smothers conversation around menstruation.
Similarly, when Bridget finally reveals her feelings on the events that define this drama in a phone call, her weighty and impactful words are undercut by comedy, and the scene ends with a dry punchline, leaving the film’s message delivered in one deft comedic blow.
This authentic depiction of the female experience, not over-accentuated but normalised as a means of truthfully conveying a wider story, is a breath of fresh air against the pervading image of the ‘perfect women’ in cinema.
Saint Frances is available to rent now.