Maggie's Plan

The spirit of independence, intelligence and confidence, basking in unconscious success, high-level functioning finessed, fabled and fastened, doubts rationally ridiculed, friends casually consulted, expansion, diversity, risk management, decision made, imaginations materialized, nebulous nascent nesting, enlightening epiphany, a child is born.

Yet one marriage dissolves to consolidate her portfolio, her hawkish rival expressing her grievances verbosely, the mutually sought after bad boy wearing on Maggie's (Greta Gerwig) nerves as the years pass, until it becomes plainly apparent, that she'd be better off on her own.

For a time.

In a bit of a pickle.

Maggie's Plan is as clever as it is charming.

Well versed in psychological analysis, manipulative benevolence fetchingly at play, it never loses its sense of cerebral congeniality, fun, it's a lot of fun, fair play you know, in what otherwise could have been tragic and miserable, director Rebecca Miller boldly blends logic and laughter, harmonizing open minds with good intentions, even as chaos clouds over it's smooth, chill, cool, laid-back in full putter, possibly the best romantic comedy I've seen.

There's a great short clip that shows Maggie and Georgette (Julianne Moore) out for a drive that could have easily been cut, but its inclusion hilariously stylizes quaint urban absurdity, thereby lightening the mood with self-deprecating shock, and calling into question its own romantic existence (editing by Sabine Hoffman).

Candlelight.

Gerwig and Moore work exceptionally well together, like Denzel and Mark Wahlberg, casting by Cindy Tolan.

Ethan Hawk (John) also excels, like a mix of Harrison Ford, John Cusack and Harry Dean Stanton, which he makes totally his own.

Watch the English language only Québécois signage. That's technically illegal!

A fun trip to Québec regardless, with good music, lively conversation, tantalizing food and drink, and a bit of snowshoeing adventurously thrown in.

Solid R&D.

No Žižek?

Miller wrote the screenplay as well and handles the brainy dialogue with restrained decorum and explosive observation.

It's like J. M. Coetzee's Foe.

It starts off rushed, in a panic, and then slowly settles down to seductively reflect and ponder, like Maggie's state of mind I suppose.

I'm crying.