Black Bear seems to have stemmed from filmmaker Lawrence Michael Levine’s possible personal struggle with writer’s block that turned into a fever dream of an artistic experiment. It feels personal because the main character, for whom Levine cast the brilliant Aubrey Plaza, is a struggling indie filmmaker who takes a respite in a gorgeous, cabin-like mansion to find inspiration.
Plaza’s Allison is self-effacing when it comes to her own work, stating that she makes “small movies that nobody likes.” She also repeatedly utters that she hates compliments. If the viewer is at all familiar with Levine’s previous work (perhaps best known for Wild Canaries and Gabbi on the Roof in July), they'll know Levine often focuses on artists in crisis thrown into situations that, in turn, throw them off-kilter. Left of center is a good way to describe Black Bear in general. It’s an interesting, but anxiety-inducing watch (particularly for anyone who has ever cared a little too much about an artistic project).
So, what can the writer take away from a movie that benefits from breaking rules, and having few to begin with? Here’s a closer look at a screenwriter's five takeaways.
1. The Meta Movie
Levine, who wrote and directed Black Bear, has divided his film into two parts, and it’s hard to define either one. Part One sees Plaza arriving at an artistic retreat to write something. There she meets the recently pregnant, unmarried couple Gabe (Christopher Abbott) and Blair (Sarah Gadon), who also seem unsettled by their new circumstances. It’s clear Gabe has not accomplished all he’s wanted and Blair is feeling trapped by their current remote life. It doesn’t take long for unreliable Allison to put a wrench in this (at first glance) domestic bliss with lines that go from: “If I never learned how to cook I would never have to become a housewife.” To: “You’re doing something meaningful with your life, you’re building a family.” It’s unclear whose side Allison is on, or what she wants for herself, and that seems to be the point. Plaza’s Allison feels dangerous, exciting and maybe a bit unhinged herself. The more Allison is “hard to read” the more Blair unravels and the deeper Gabe becomes intoxicated with both her essence, and the copious amounts of wine they are all drinking. It’s clear this is going to be a terrible and unforgettable night, and when it finally culminates in all its awfulness, Levine launches the viewer into Part Two.
Here’s where things get super meta: there is now a film crew in the same location, and roles and power structure have been flipped and turned upside down. Allison is starring in a movie (the film crew fills the epic cabin home) and Gabe is directing it. Gabe and Blair are no longer at odds, but now in cahoots to screw with Allison by manipulating her performance through making her jealous. Gabe justifies this by knowing it will cause Allison to give the best performance of her life. As Allison now becomes more unhinged, so does an inept film crew who seem both rapt and helpless by the Titanic of a film set that is solely buoyed by whether or not Allison can deliver.
2. When Dialogue is Queen
Black Bear heavily hinges on the twist and turn of lines that make you think, want to hear again, and question their ultimate meaning. While there is a pretty hysterical visual scene with a pontoon boat that must be watched to be fully appreciated, the film lives and dies by many of Levine’s penned lines that make the viewer question each character’s motives, intention and regret. There are many that stand out as the characters discuss everything from the merits of art, feminism and masculinity, to domesticity. Memorable stories Allison tells include captivating her “audience” with a tale about how her mother died right in front of her, and later confessing to Gabe, “I’ve been lying since I got here.” Creating a sense of distrust and secrecy can always help drive the story, and sometimes the turn of the tongue can be enough to keep audiences watching. As Blair comments on Allison’s words: “You’re really hard to read.” Allison replies, “Yeah. I get that a lot.” The exchange could almost be a thesis statement for the film itself.
3. Filmic Homages
There are John Cassavetes influences all over Black Bear, particularly in Part Two when the film gets meta. Gabe, now in director mode, even makes a pointed commentary on when the film-within-a-film should be handheld. Not to mention the sound design that heavily highlights whenever a wine bottle is glug glugging, or when a whiskey bottle’s cork is being popped. Characters don’t hesitate to let alcohol heavily taint their conversations, or aid them in giving the performance of a lifetime when on-set. Levine doesn't shy away from how much he clearly admires Cassavetes’ work. Yet, perhaps the meta-ness of it all (and the ultimate control these actors have of their performances) lets Levine stand on his own as Black Bear is absolutely its own animal.
4. The Female Rivalry
Part of what drives this film is the instant rivalry between Allison and Blair. There is tension in the air from the moment they meet. They pay each other empty compliments. Allison: “You’re really pretty.” Blair: “I love your bag.” They feel empty as the air feels heavy. While it’s often a bummer to watch a film that is driven by hot girl conflict, every woman knows this shorthand. Every woman knows the jealousy of another woman that rears its ugly head because the other lady just exudes cool. And it is human nature to experience the often petty emotion. While it’s always refreshing to see a film that does not thrive in this trope, it would be tough to not acknowledge that it's juicy to relish in the predatory on occasion. This is often what gives Black Bear its underpinnings of horror. It feels as though there is often something terrible lurking on the other side of a film shot, primarily in the dark. Blair and Allison’s tension—forced glances, constantly turning dialogue, weird shallow compliments, and drinking challenges—create psychological horror with almost no blood in sight.
5. Satire
Levine may be excellent at building strange tension from one messed-up trio, but he also has a hysterical sense of humor. Whenever things are wound almost too tightly, Plaza’s Allison cuts things with a self-effacing joke. Additionally, Part Two of the film is a joyful send-up, occasionally reminiscent of a Christopher Guest film as it mercilessly skewers indie filmmaking. While Allison is being torn apart by a film role that hits too close to home, the inept film crew would rather get stoned and flirt than script supervise. The First A.D. has terrible diarrhea from lunch, and the hot cinematographer and make-up artist are dying to hook up. It’s a reminder that even though a star and director may find their roles in making art life and death, there is still daily life happening around them that they are likely missing out on.
Final Takeaway: Black Bear will absolutely give the artist a case of heartburn. The film is like watching a sinking ship that’s rise is dependent upon a dysfunctional actress not succumbing to the pressures she has likely created more than having stemmed from reality. It’s a tension-filled mind screw of an artist’s journey that will leave one questioning how far would you go to make a film? Is it worth personal destruction, or worse, losing love forever? It feels like Levine has asked himself this question several times over, which is why Black Bear is worth the watch.