Gemma is focused on her career, but a horrible car crash changes everything.
(Gemma's sister is driving with her husband; the two are arguing about whether excessive "screen time" has become a family issue. The argument is useless--wrong place, wrong time, both parents are clearly wrong, wrong, wrong--and anyone with small children will "relate." In the midst of the squabbling, a snow plow appears--and all adults immediately die.)
Because of this snow plow, Gemma "inherits" her little niece, Cady. This is not the life Gemma imagined! She has work to do! How often can she take a deep breath and ask, politely, that Cady make proper use of the toilet-bowl flusher? (Again, if you have kids, you personally have lived through large stretches of this "movie.")
Gemma happens to design toys, and she has a fancy Tokyo item that resembles a ball. She tries to explain its many functions to Cady--but a well-meaning therapist says, "Why don't you let the child *discover* the object?" Allison Williams--so brilliant as a type-A, visibly enraged Yale graduate--sucks on her teeth and says, "It's state-of-the-art technology, but...sure. We'll sit here and roll it like a tennis ball....."
Here, the movie begins its ascent to the stratosphere. Gemma decides to outsource her parenting burdens by designing a magical robot. The robot, Megan, is like Frankenstein's monster: First, she seems to be an answer to every prayer, but in time, she begins to show signs of "messiness and insolence." (I'm borrowing those words from the NYTimes.)
The fights between Gemma and Megan are among the highlights of my movie-going life. It's always a treat to see Allison Williams lose her patience; she is so good at rolling her eyes and saying, "Shut off. Shut off now." I also chuckled when she became manipulative with her tiny niece: "It's fine if you want to opt out....It's just, people from all over the country are coming to observe you....but just do what you need to do....." These moments alone are delightful--but then consider Williams's antagonist! Williams has met her match! She is waging war against a doll in sunglasses, and the doll does not mince words. "I *thought* we were having a conversation." "Jesus Christ, I thought we were friends." "This is the part where you run...." All these remarks seem to be standard examples of gay-man bitchiness--but they're coming from a sculpted mound of plastic that is decorated with "a pussy bow." Pure joy.
I just want to say that--before last week--I had been unfamiliar with Akela Cooper's work. Now I'm eager to see "Malignant." I'll follow this shrewd writer wherever she wants to take me. Regarding "Megan"? Believe the hype.
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