I knew that I was going to see Landline in theaters. The film is set in New York City in 1995, which was when I was beginning to say goodbye to my hometown though I was unaware of it at the time. I loved Gillian Robespierre’s first movie, Obvious Child. The film’s cast is perfect: Abby Quinn, Jenny Slate, Jay Duplass, John Turturro and Edie Falco. Indeed it exceeded my expectations and was more organically credible as a period film than Atomic Blonde with its mix tapes, pay phones and Hillary Clinton pale pink business suits and bigger hair.
Landline is about a family as a unit and the individuals at a turning point. Ali, the younger daughter, played by Quinn, is in a rebellious phase then discovers that her parents are human beings with drama which shocks her out of her heretofore juvenile complete absorption in her life. Dana, the older daughter, played by Slate, is engaged to Ben, played by Duplass, and has a quarterlife crisis. She objectively thinks that her life is lame and explores her wilder side, but has yet to accept that she actually likes lame and needs to stop judging her life as lacking. Ali’s discovery brings the sisters together as friends, and the majority of the film is about their relationship. They experience an epiphany together: they are not just related, but they actually like each other. The parents, played with epic sensitivity and nuance by Turturro and Falco, get less screen time, but are simultaneously able to show how they can wound and love each other. They are such masters of their bodies that they can communicate the mood change to the viewers with a glance.
Robespierre is still a master of showing how people can do bad things, but still be someone that a viewer can empathize with and be loved. In Landline, everyone is connected and loves each other, but individual personal crisis forces each of them to confront his or herself about who one is, what one wants and how will they be able to be together as new people. The goal is ultimately honesty and reconciling your inside/hidden self with your outside or recognizing and rejecting the hidden self as simply ridiculous rites of passage. I never felt like I was watching a movie and did not want it to end.
If Landline were released around Labor Day weekend, it would have done better because the movie is set at the end of summer through Halloween. When I left the theater and discovered that it was a gorgeous summer day, it was almost as if the Men in Black flashed that neuralyzer at me and immediately wiped the beautiful moments that were beginning to nestle their way into my heart. Landline is definitely a fall movie when something dies so a deeper, more mature beauty can emerge.