Within the first ten minutes of Lawrence Michael Levine’s Black Bear it was clear that for me to care about its whiny, privileged characters, something unexpected would need to happen. Then, low and behold, halfway through the movie, something unexpected did happen, and I felt a smile creep across my face for the first time since sitting down. But, as it turns out, the big twist was too little, too late. The characters were still whiny and privileged, but now, on top of that, the film was also a pretentious spoof of itself. Black Bear’s conceit is that it thinks itself an intelligent, edgy look at relationship dynamics and the creative process, when in fact, it’s a rather mundane rehash of better stories hinged on a midpoint change in form that isn’t nearly as clever as it thinks it is.
The film’s first half centers on Allison (Aubrey Plaza), Blair (Sarah Gadon), and Gabe (Christopher Abbot). Allison, a filmmaker looking for inspiration, rents a room at a spacious lake house in the Adirondacks owned by married couple Blair and Gabe. As Allison gets to know her hosts, and vice versa, a tense back-and-forth develops between the trio filled with accusations, half-truths, and plenty of grievances. This breakdown in decorum is written as if it should be relatable for your average millennial, but, for me at least, it rings as wholly inauthentic. As the ferocity increases, Black Bear treads into rehash territory, as it begins to mimic Edward Albee’s famous play, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? – minus the bite and wit.
Then comes the big swerve. In the second half, Black Bear switches gears to become a “movie within a movie.” Allison is now a difficult actress on an indie movie set (the same lake house in the Adirondacks), the plot of which mirrors what we have seen in the first half. Gabe is her husband and the director of the movie, while Blair is a supporting actor. Gabe and Blair connive with each other to manipulate Allison into giving a better performance, which then has emotional and physical repercussions for all involved.
The truth is, I wish it worked – but it just doesn’t, at least not for me. Levine’s attempt at meta filmmaking comes off as smug and derivative instead of original or imaginative – something, in my opinion, could have been partially remedied with better eyes and ears towards class consciousness (meaning, I am sick to death of stories about affluent white people). Things do pick up in the second half with the introduction of a full “crew,” which brings a quirky and sometimes comedic chaos to the “set,” but by then the aura of self-importance is too thick to overcome.
Where Black Bear shines, though, is in its casting. Plaza, as usual, is simply wonderful. The way she dismissively plays off Gadon and Abbot in the first half, then turns self-destructive and paranoid in the second is the glue that holds a dubious story together. Without her lead, the already suspicious plotting would surely delve into downright boring territory. I might be goaded into recommending Black Bear on the strength of her performance alone and, if so, I honestly hope you get more out of it than I did.
James is a writer, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.