Arkansas writer/actress Kelly O’Sullivan and her partner Alex Thompson (who directed this black comedy) modestly go where few have gone before. Their work feels like an epic episode of the TV series Girls; the main character Bridget has a lot in common with deliciously sloppy Jessa Johansson. You could also describe it as the missing link between Bridesmaids and Roma.
O’Sullivan is perfect as a weary thirtysomething (imagine Rachel McAdams drained of the desire to please). Raised a Catholic, Bridget is now an “agnostic feminist” and stumbles into working as a nanny for a lesbian couple.
Hispanic Maya (Charin Alvarez) and African-American Annie (Lily Mojekwu) have an obstreperous six-year-old Frances (Ramona Edith Williams; blissfully natural), and another baby on the way. Bridget’s mind is elsewhere — fooling around with a millennial, Jace (Max Lipchitz), leads to bloody sheets and later an abortion. But she’s not the only one with problems.
In terms of the film’s political stance, there’s lots of bridge-building — let’s call it Bridget-building. Still, religious conservatives will be appalled. A blood clot that may or may not be an embryo is likened to a “rat turd”. Bridget’s own mother describes wanting to beat a baby to pulp. Humour, at all times, lubricates anguish.
I guffawed out loud when a shattered Maya admits to incontinence (“I peed a little, two seconds ago!”). O’Sullivan and Thompson are down on guilt. Don’t feel ashamed if you wet yourself laughing.
In cinemas
