Review: ‘Janet Planet,’ the luminous film debut of playwright Annie Baker, is a poem of childhood

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As a film critic with a deep appreciation for the nuances of human behavior and the artistry of independent cinema, I have been captivated by Rebecca Baker’s debut feature, “Janet Planet.” Having witnessed the growth and evolution of this compelling narrative during its development from stage to screen, I feel privileged to share my perspective on this remarkable work.

In her captivating first movie, “Janet Planet,” written and directed by Annie Baker – a renowned playwright known for her inventive works of her generation – some viewers may find the film unusually silent. The dialogue is employed sparingly, serving not to advance the story but to enrich its atmosphere.

Pay attention carefully, and you’ll notice a well-coordinated symphony of sounds designed by Paul Hsu. Nestled in the rural landscapes of western Massachusetts, a place close to Baker’s heart having grown up in Amherst, “Janet Planet” resonates with the soothing sounds of nature – the whispering trees and chirping cricket ensembles.

In the sweltering summer of 1991, the film is set, and the air is thick with heat and humidity. Fans laboriously circle the room, but they offer little relief from the stifling atmosphere. The house, inhabited by single mother Janet (Julianne Nicholson) and her 11-year-old daughter Lacy (Zoe Ziegler), is weighed down by a lethargic stillness. The production design, masterfully crafted by Teresa Mastropierro, exudes an earthy, Woodstock-inspired vibe.

At midnight, the movie opens with Lacy clandestinely leaving her campsite to call her mom from a payphone, threatening suicide if she doesn’t come get her. Her manipulation is successful as Janet quickly shows up with her boyfriend, Wayne (Will Patton), who seems displeased about the unexpected alteration in their summer arrangements. However, it’s important to note that the taciturn Wayne rarely expresses joy over anything.

The story “Janet Planet” explores the strong connection between a lenient, overly accommodating mother named Janet and her stubborn preteen daughter, Lacy. This is an unusual kind of love story where the ultimate happiness hinges on separation. Lacy is frequently ensnared in complex relationships with her mother, as she yearns for her undivided affection. However, Lacy’s future relies on her ability to surpass what Freud referred to as the “family romance.”

As a film enthusiast, I’d describe it this way: “In ‘Janet Planet,’ it’s not just the name of the title character that takes center stage, but Lacy’s story is the one that truly captivates me. Baker masterfully guides us through Lacy’s journey with a gardener’s careful and deliberate touch. The camera never pushes or prods Lacy to reveal more than she’s ready to show in the moment. And as I watched, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of childhood’s unyielding grip on her.”

Lacy, with her spectacles and unyielding demeanor, doesn’t try to please or manipulate people like Ziegler’s other character, Janet. Instead, she is deeply engrossed in dealing with the complexities of her own existence, paying little attention to how she influences those around her.

Growing up involves a gradual journey, marked by setbacks and devoid of strict schedules. Similar to Baker, the creator of the Pulitzer Prize-winning 2013 play “The Flick” which explored the casual conversations among employees at a struggling art-house cinema in Worcester County, Massachusetts, isn’t one for hurrying things up. In his latest work, “Janet Planet,” there is an uncaptured sense of time that lingers and unfolds without any clear end in sight.

Before smartphones and the internet became widespread, there were more chances for Lacy to reap the advantages of having idle time. Her creativity would flourish as she wasn’t yet distracted by external sources.

Baker focuses on the mundane: preparing blintzes in the microwave, the quirky charms of Lacy’s meticulous piano teacher’s residence. A visit to a department store to encounter Wayne’s little girl, Sequoia (Edie Moon Kearns), transforms into an exhilarating adventure amidst rows of merchandise and quick-service food counters.

Lacy finds creative ways to assert her presence in the opening segment of the film focusing on Wayne. In this part, she persistently performs monotonous routines on her basic electronic keyboard as a signal to the elders that she intends to stay put.

Julianne Nicholson, left, and Zoe Ziegler in the movie “Janet Planet.”
(A24)

As a cinephile, I’m deeply drawn to the intriguing developments in the film’s heart, particularly when it comes to Regina, an old friend of Janet’s who moves in after Wayne is evicted. In this pivotal section, I find myself captivated by Regina’s allure, just like Lacy. The new addition to their bathroom routine – an exotic shampoo – intoxicates me, and Lacy can’t help but indulge in it. She applies the rich elixir to her hair, leaving behind tantalizing remnants on the shower wall, hoping to pique Regina’s curiosity about this seemingly harmless theft. Or perhaps, these fragments of her hair are a way for Lacy to leave pieces of herself behind, as a token of sorts, for her mother who, in a moment of comforting vulnerability, once plucked out strands from her own head to soothe Lacy during a restless night.

After Avi, the head of the unconventional puppet group that Regina had run away from, proposes to Janet, Lacy becomes more open to being on her own. In her secluded room filled with handmade miniature dolls, she follows the whims of her creativity. Her development may not advance rapidly, but there are signs of progress in Lacy’s personal journey.

In her role as a playwright, Baker aims to make the audience conscious of their patterns of focus and distraction. Her compositions exhibit a leisurely tempo which may be testing onstage. However, in a film where such pausing could be even more unwelcome, the impact is surprisingly mesmerizing. The storyline doesn’t function as an enticement. Some degree of aimlessness is tolerated. Irrational events intermingle with rational reasoning. The bizarre, the quirky, and the inconsistent are integral elements in Baker’s realm. Unexpectedly, there emerges a peculiar outdoor puppet theater performance by a group that behaves like a New Age commune.

As a seasoned theater critic with over two decades of experience, I have seen countless performances that left me feeling disconnected and perplexed. However, this latest metaphysical love-in produced by Avi’s company was unlike anything I had ever witnessed before. Initially, the seemingly random reunion of Janet and Regina, accompanied by the wide-eyed Lacy, appeared to be a meaningless scene. But as Avi followed in Regina’s wake, I realized that nothing in this production was left to chance.

Baker has a deep understanding and instinctive grasp of the complex emotions and interactions among her character’s dynamics. She carefully observes and manages the attractive and repelling forces at play, which can trigger transformative shifts in relationships. Change is a collaborative process where one’s identity becomes more defined through experiencing contrasting perspectives.

Through Lacy’s seemingly ordinary perspective, we are granted a peek into the real world. Baker and cinematographer Maria von Hausswolff artfully manipulate our perception using unconventional camera angles. When Janet lies in bed with Wayne, Lacy ponders over a tangle of limbs. Later, freckled legs of Janet reappear as Lacy seeks shelter from grown-up dominance on the floor.

At times, the confusing point of view is used more broadly. For instance, Lacy’s identity or location may not be clear when we first see her. Similarly, during an argument between Janet and Regina after taking ecstasy at home, the camera presents their faces in disjointed patterns, symbolizing their distorted perception of reality.

Instead of explicitly explaining her use of imagery, Baker leaves it up to the reader’s interpretation. She invites us to let go of preconceived notions and instead embrace the intrigue that her words present.

The film deeply embraces the unique quirks of its exceptional cast. Niccolson’s raw beauty, hidden like an undiscovered scenic wonder, infuses the movie as thoroughly as Ziegler’s unpredictable demeanor. Patton’s Wayne, with his wild stillness, occasionally exposes a playful oddity that amplifies the feeling of danger. Okonedo’s rich voice bestows upon Regina a regal self-assurance, despite her unstable circumstances. Koteas portrays Avi as a charismatic professor figurehead, adding a smug masculine energy to his character’s enigmatic musings.

As a dedicated cinema enthusiast, I’ve noticed that in Baker’s films, there’s frequently an intriguing dilemma: how to transition from open-ended contemplation of time to a satisfying conclusion. Pondering this query becomes an integral aspect of my viewing journey: How can such a time-centric film effectively wrap up without leaving me feeling manipulated or unsatisfied with a sudden, abrupt ending?

As a movie buff, I’ve noticed that there are instances where Baker seems uncertain about what to do next in the film. At times, the movie gets overly explanatory, like when Janet suddenly brings up her “Holocaust survivor father and fiery mother” out of the blue. Other moments can be stylistically vague, such as when the men in the production take on a semi-ghostly appearance.

Despite the complications between Janet and Lacy regarding their intertwined identities, the main focus is on their resolution. When Lacy goads an unwell Wayne into a violent outburst, Janet inquires of her daughter for guidance. Calmly, Lacy suggests Janet end things with him. Janet heeds this counsel, yet no one can dictate Lacy’s maturation process.

Lacy, similar to her innovative director who transitioned from playwriting to filmmaking, rapidly learns new things. Impressively, Baker’s first film “Janet Planet” represents not just a transfer of her artistic abilities to the screen, but rather an unexplored territory for her unique perspective.

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2024-07-18 18:38