Lars and the Real Girl, a movie fable about a young man with a host of debilitating issues and the small community of friends and relatives who nurture him back to reality, manages to explore the pain of mental illness and still be funny. That alone is a minor miracle, but there are others. The movie takes a humanist and Capra-esque approach to all-American eccentricity, yet never seems goofy, simplistic, or maudlin. It's redemptive without being Dr. Phil–prescriptive. And there's a metaphor, too.
Lars's basic problem is that he can't endure people touching him, and he has a low tolerance for social interaction. He's played by Ryan Gosling, who goes easy on the weird tics and emphasizes Lars's self-absorption. Gosling appears to have gained some weight, and looks very much the northern Midwest small-town geek. It's a subtle transformation, yet about as far as Gosling could go from his crack-addicted history teacher in Half Nelson.
Lars lives in the garage-like guest house of his late parents' home; in the main house next door live his mild-mannered but far more masculine and normal older brother, Gus, played by Paul Schneider (All the Real Girls), and his pregnant sister-in-law, Karin (Emily Mortimer). Gus is mostly estranged from his little brother; Karin wants to befriend Lars but fails. Lars has a non-descript office job, and a coworker, played by Kelli Garner, is sweet on him though, to all appearances, Lars seems uninterested in sex.
And then it happens. Lars orders a mail-order sex doll: She's more like a mannequin than the usual blow-up balloon, but not realistic enough to fool anyone who doesn't want to be fooled. He names her Bianca, and announces to Gus and Karin (and eventually to his coworkers and fellow churchgoers) that she is his girlfriend. Lars is in love.
The godlike wizard in this fable is the local medical doctor, played with marvelous restraint by Patricia Clarkson. The doctor sets up therapy sessions with Lars (under the guise of tending to Bianca's health) and sets in motion a town-wide plan: Everyone should humor Lars's fantasy and treat Bianca as if she were real.
The joke of the movie is that everyone signs on to this crazy scheme. Even more so — and this is a bit of a Bill Forsyth whimsy — they enjoy playing along. They pretend so elaborately that Bianca is real that they start to believe the fib. With his fantasy come true, it's Lars who unravels, just as the doctor must have planned. His initial rush of happiness gives rise to buried feelings.
The reason why all this works dramatically can be found in the script by Nancy Oliver (a vet of Six Feet Under). As contrived as the situation is — it's structured like a Freudian case study — the movie never forces outcomes or points scenes in obvious directions, and it thankfully has no narration. It takes its time making small points. And the direction, by Craig Gillespie (whose debut feature, Mr. Woodcock, recently stumbled), is perfectly undercooked. As is the supporting cast — Schneider, in particular, is a brilliant mix of self-awareness and inarticulacy.
And then there's that metaphor. The town's play-acting is the nature of drama and fiction. Lars's attraction to Bianca is like an audience's to an actor onscreen — the object is fake, an approximation, but for some that's better than flesh and blood. Bianca is a work of art. And so is Lars and the Real Girl.
VIEW: 2007 Toronto Film Festival Portraits
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