Rating: R (for strong sexual content including dialogue, graphic nudity, drug use, language and drinking- all involving teens)
Genre: Drama
Directed By: Marielle Heller
Written By: Marielle Heller
In Theaters: Aug 7, 2015 Limited
On DVD: Jan 19, 2016
Runtime: 1hr. 42 min.
Sony Pictures Classics - Official Site
Tác phẩm kể về cuộc sống của cô gái 15 tuổi – Minnie. Sau lần tự nguyện mất trinh với bạn trai gần 40 tuổi của mẹ, cô bé loay hoay định vị bản thân trong mối quan hệ rắc rối của mình với người khác giới. Tác phẩm được dán nhãn “18+ ” khi ra mắt ở Anh và “17+ ” tại Mỹ bởi chứa nhiều hình ảnh nóng bỏng, có cảnh để lộ bộ phận nhạy cảm của nam giới và cảnh sử dụng chất gây nghiện. Bộ phim gai góc được hơn 115 bài phê bình tổng hợp trên chuyên trang Rotten Romatoes đánh giá tích cực. Giới chuyên môn đồng thuận: “Bộ phim bất thường và tươi mới là cái nhìn thẳng thắn và khách quan về thiếu nữ Bắc Mỹ hiện nay”. Nữ diễn viên sinh năm 1992 – Bel Powley – nhập vai sắc sảo với hình ảnh cô gái 15 tuổi trải nghiệm những chuyện thầm kín cá nhân.
The Diary of a Teenage Girl là bộ phim tâm lý do Mỹ sản xuất của đạo diễn Marielle Heller hoàn toàn gây bất ngờ lớn tại Sundance năm nay.
The Diary of a Teenage Girl lấy bối cảnh những năm 1970 khi một cô bé tuổi thành niên đem lòng yêu người tình của mẹ mình. Với một câu chuyện như vậy, phim chắc chắc có đề cập đến vấn đề tình dục và cảnh nóng là điều khó tránh khỏi.
Trong phim, nữ tài tử Bel Powley đã khá thành công trong việc khắc họa một cô gái còn trinh tuổi teen nổi loạn đầy quyến rũ, bên cạnh ngôi sao True Blood Alexander Skarsgard và một Kristen Wiig “lột xác” với vai người mẹ nghiện rượu có nội tâm phức tạp. MOVIE INFO
Like most teenage girls, Minnie Goetze (Bel Powley) is longing for love, acceptance and a sense of purpose in the world. Minnie begins a complex love affair with her mother's (Kristen Wiig) boyfriend, "the handsomest man in the world," Monroe Rutherford (Alexander Skarsgård). What follows is a sharp, funny and provocative account of one girl's sexual and artistic awakening, without judgment.
| The Diary of a Teenage Girl | |
|---|---|
Theatrical release poster
| |
| Directed by | Marielle Heller |
| Produced by |
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| Written by | Marielle Heller |
| Based on | The Diary of a Teenage Girl: An Account in Words and Pictures by Phoebe Gloeckner |
| Starring | |
| Music by | Nate Heller |
| Cinematography | Brandon Trost |
| Edited by | Marie-Hélène Dozo Koen Timmerman |
Production
company |
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| Distributed by | Sony Pictures Classics |
Release dates
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Running time
| 102 minutes[1][2] |
| Country | United States |
| Language | English |
| Budget | $2 million[3] |
| Box office | $2.2 million[4] |
Review: In ‘The Diary of a Teenage Girl,’ a Hormone Bomb Waiting to Explode
Minnie Goetze, the 15-year-old heroine of “The Diary of a Teenage Girl,” is a would-be cartoonist who, despite her first name, is closer in lusty spirit and scratchy pen to Robert Crumb than to Walt Disney. When, partway through this gutsy, exhilarating movie, she draws her first cartoon, it’s of a bodacious female colossus striding across San Francisco. As this inky giant keeps on trucking, she evokes the 50-foot-woman of cult film fame, if one that has received a Crumb makeover, with thighs as mighty as giant sequoias and a bottom that rolls like a ship in a storm.
The terrific actress Bel Powley was in her early 20s when “Diary” was shot, but looks more like a teenager than most of the generically buffed and prettified adolescents who populate American screens. She has the wide-open look children have before life gets in the way. But she’s on the short side and is dwarfed by Kristen Wiig (great), who plays Charlotte, Minnie’s boozy, inattentive mother. Ms. Powley looks almost doll-like, Lilliputian, when staring up at Alexander Skarsgard (a perfect worm), who plays Monroe, a mustachioed loafer with pitiful self-improvement plans. He’s Charlotte’s boyfriend when the movie opens, and he’s also sleeping with the very willing, all-too-eager Minnie, although calling him her lover doesn’t seem quite right — but neither does predator.
What you call Monroe, other than an expletive, depends on what you call a man having sex with a 15-year-old girl. “The Diary of a Teenage Girl” takes place in 1976, when the age of consent in California was 18 (it still is), but it unfolds in an anything-goes milieu in which Monroe might be branded more of an opportunist than a creep. Drinks and pot smoke flow through its rooms, in between snorts of cocaine. Charlotte works as a librarian and parties like, well, someone with no children, having apparently traded in Dr. Spock for Dr. Feelgood. In her hedonism, if mostly in her egotism (it’s all about her), Charlotte comes off like a case study for “The Culture of Narcissism: American Life in an Age of Diminishing Expectations,” Christopher Lasch’s 1979 era-defining classic.
The writer-director Marielle Heller doesn’t judge the partying; she leaves that to her viewers, assuming that they come to this movie with their own ideas on the subject. She knows you can fill in all kinds of blanks, including the explicit details of Minnie and Monroe’s encounters. Her discretion is a commercially expedient choice, of course; Ms. Heller wants to turn you on rather than off. But she also wants to be true to Minnie. Given this, it’s important that the one time you see Minnie fully naked is when she’s alone with her body and thoughts in her bedroom, gazing into a mirror. She may be the object of Monroe’s lust (and he is unambiguously hers), but Ms. Heller ensures that Minnie — who’s never lighted or framed for the viewer’s erotic contemplation — isn’t ours.
Using a sharp scalpel, Ms. Heller extracted the story from Phoebe Gloeckner’s trippy, autobiographically informed novel of the same title. Both versions of the story follow Minnie as she rides out adolescence, which goes very dark in Ms. Gloeckner’s novel. Ms. Heller plays down or elides its more harrowing episodes (rape, hard drugs) and sweetens the overarching narrative by emphasizing its comic absurdity. She also embellishes the movie with cartoon hearts and flowers that wouldn’t be out of place in Disney’s “Snow White.” Truer to the novel’s spirit, she brings in (via the animator Sara Gunnarsdottir) an illustrated version of Aline Kominsky-Crumb, a.k.a. Mrs. Crumb, a feminist cartoonist who pops into the picture and functions as part imaginary friend, part groovy fairy godmother.
Aline shows up just when Minnie needs her, materializing on a street and parked in a diner booth. Charlotte is at once present and not, and few other adults are of any help to Minnie, including her mother’s former squeeze, Pascal (Christopher Meloni). Not that Minnie, who keeps her own counsel, no matter how unwise, would pay attention. As the title announces, the movie isn’t about the arguments of lawyers, judges or any other guardians of the moral galaxy, any more than it’s about questionable child rearing, predatory men and regrettable girlfriends. It is the diary of a specific, complex, sometimes muddled teenager who owns her story, her life and her pleasure, from the moment she says, “I had sex today,” to her rueful, hopeful closing declaration of self.
That wee self is by turns a joy and a heartbreaker, and often an affectingly honest hormone bomb waiting to explode. Minnie looks together when you first meet her, sailing through a city park with a Cheshire cat smile, her saucer eyes bugging as she takes in the local color (facial hair and liberated, jauntily bouncing breasts) that starts to set the freewheeling, at times freaky, San Francisco scene. Once back in her bedroom — where a large poster of a bare-chested Iggy Pop watches over her, next to a photo of Janis Joplin — Minnie begins making audiotapes, using a recorder as a diary into which she can pour her desires, dreams, fears and thrillingly dirty secrets.
It would be easy to call Minnie a victim, and Monroe the villain, even if that’s not at all how it plays out in the movie. Monroe may not be exactly the light of Minnie’s life, but for much of the story, he is the fire of her loins, to borrow and bend some opening words from Nabokov’s “Lolita.” In the preface to a later edition of her novel, Ms. Gloeckner writes that, in many ways, it is about her, but that it’s also about the reader. “Although I am the source of Minnie, she cannot be me — for the book to have real meaning, she must be all girls, anyone.” It’s a familiar universal appeal and also insistently political. The novel is life-specific, but what makes Minnie — on the page and now on the screen — greater than any one girl is how she tells her own story in her own soaringly alive voice.
“The Diary of a Teenage Girl” is rated R. (Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian.) The movie has sex scenes between a minor and an adult, as well as drug and alcohol use, seen through a girl’s eyes.
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