Emily Martin, the driven, hard-working protagonist inSNLalumNoël Wells’directorial debut, is a storm of chaos. From the moment we meet her, it becomes clear that the struggling comedian who moved out to Los Angeles to pursue a career in entertainment sometimes has a tendency of rubbing people the wrong way. However, despite the glares and scowls she often gets from her boss, coworkers, and people around her, she is determined to find a life of success and happiness. Thus begins the journey of one of the most complex, hilarious, and lovable protagonists that has come out of indie cinema in recent years.Mr. Rooseveltfollows Emily (Wells), who, upon learning of her cat’s death, returns to Austin and reluctantly crashes at her old house with her ex-boyfriend Eric (Nick Thune) and his new girlfriend Celeste (Britt Lower). The indie comedy, which premiered at the 2017SXSW Film Festivalto widespread critical acclaim, has a resonant message about the way we see perfection in our lives, relationships, and careers – and how unattainable that very concept is.
With the unique cutting style from editorTerel Gibson, Wells establishes Emily’s character from the first frame as a comedian who is desperate to make a name for herself. As Emily performs in front of a group of industry professionals in an LA audition room, Gibson quickly cuts between her impressions, amplifying the sheer chaos of it. However, as he cuts back to the bored faces of the people watching, as well as the calmer people standing in the waiting room, Emily’s struggle is both clear yet layered. In a business like comedic acting, one would think that Emily’s frenzied impressions of a Vine star and a young macho boy would garner a positive response from the people watching. However, despite her attempt to be a unique name in the industry, they’re uninterested. This opening sets up for this exact conflict: people around Emily are poised, collected, calm and fit into industry norms and standards, but that isn’t Emily. In a later scene, this is reflected further when Emily bikes around town. The scene is sunny, breezy, with bouncy music playing under it. Gibson then abruptly cuts to her desperately trying to get up the hill with her bike, frustrated, annoyed, and sweaty. Through razor-sharp editing, Gibson and Wells heighten the contrast of Emily attempting to reach perfection, but being completely unable to.
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When Emily lands in Austin, she frantically goes straight to the vet’s office to find information about her sick cat. Relieved, she sees her ex-boyfriend Eric there, who embraces her as they grieve together. Emily is in for a surprise, however, when the beautiful, posed new girlfriend Celeste arrives. In one frame, before they barely even interact, Celeste and Emily’s obvious differences are presented. Emily is wearing an old yellow t-shirt, reminiscent of the uniform of children’s softball league, as well as shorts, tights, and a faded jacket. Her hair is in messy braids, while there’s not a tuft of hair out place in Celeste’s clean look. Indeed, Celeste towers over Emily, and is in a mature, boho-chic look with a dress that looks like it’s from a Banana Republic catalog. These differences begin to introduce Celeste’s desire to project an image of perfection, and plants the seed for Emily’s growing intimidation of Celeste.
As Emily reluctantly must spend more time third-wheeling with Celeste and Eric, Celeste attempts to make her stay more comfortable. She invites Emily out to dinner with her and her friends. However, upon one look at Emily’s clothes, she condescendingly asks “Did you want to change before we leave?” Emily tries to push back, but Celeste insists, telling her “I’m sure I have something for you to wear.” At this moment it becomes clear that Celeste projects her own insecurities, and her own idea of perfection onto Emily. This is heightened even further when Celeste puts Emily in what looks like a potato sack: the dress is gray, boxy, and fits right into Celeste’s lifestyle image, which is homogenous and muted.
Wells doesn’t just stop at the costume design to illustrate Celeste’s idea of perfection. When Emily arrives at Celeste’s house, she’s washed away in a world of clean, pristine white walls, perfectly folded blankets, framed photos, and brown baskets. Emily is taken aback, stunned as she says “You guys put in wood floors?” Clearly, the house is the polar opposite of what their life was like in the earlier title sequence. Nothing is out of place. Later, when Emily does a deep-dive Facebook search on Celeste, Gibson and Wells cut together an almost horror-film montage of Celeste’s photos with friends and Eric. This montage makes it feel like Emily is both consumed and intimidated by Celeste’s perfection. In a later scene, Emily wakes up to Celeste sitting next to her on the bed, both of them drowned in a clean, white light. The lighting from cinematographerDagmar Weaver-Madsenis intentionally overexposed, creating a soft vignette around Celeste and making it appear as though they’re in heaven. In another brilliant moment, Celeste exchanges the cheap urn for the cat that Emily bought, and pays for the nicest, most expensive and lavish one. Despite the constant perfection that Celeste attempts to project through her clothing, home decor, and cat urns, it eventually becomes clear that these things do not equate to a perfect life or even stable happiness.
This is perhaps most well illustrated in the restaurant scene. When Celeste introduces Emily to her friends at the fancy dinner, there’s a stark contrast between Emily and the rest of the group. With flat comments from their friends like “I, for one, love bread, call me old-fashioned!” and “I’ve been meditating!”, it’s clear that everyone at the table except Emily is desperate to display an image of a put-together adult. This borders on disconcerting, when Emily asks Eric how his band is going. Just as Eric is about to open his mouth to answer, Celeste answers for him, “Eric’s taking a break from music. He’s getting his real estate license.” This further heightens how Celeste wants to create a sanitized, perfect life for the both of them. Celeste’s obsession with appearing like the model couple doesn’t work for Emily, who starts to see their relationship as unhealthy and toxic.
Wells' script is incredibly incisive, however, because, as Emily spends more time with Celeste and Eric, it becomes clear that it’s not just Celeste who wants to project a certain image of perfection. When Emily confronts Eric about him abandoning his music dream in a later scene, she urges him to leave his life in Austin and pursue his dream. However, Eric resists, knowing that Emily is living in a fantasy. Indeed, Emily has her own idea of perfection. It’s not the life that Celeste sees as ideal, but it’s a romanticized life no less. Emily urges him to think like her. “If you could have any dream, what would it be?” He summarizes his own desires in one sentence, “I just want a family.” At this moment, Emily must come to the brutal realization here that Celeste is providing what Eric wants. Emily was forcing her idea of what Eric’s life should be onto Eric, without truly listening to what it is he needs. Just like Celeste projects her insecurities onto Emily, Emily projects her insecurities onto her and Eric’s life together. Emily is judgemental of Celeste’s life despite not knowing much about her, even joking that it’s a “Pinterest board come to life” in one scene. Indeed,in an interview with BUILD,Wells mentioned, “Part of the reason why she’s so crabby is because she’s an incredibly insecure human being.” Because Emily sees that Eric and Celeste have a life she doesn’t have, she digs herself deeper into her idea of an alternative, “perfect” life.
Both Celeste and Emily think each other’s life is a mess. Celeste pities Emily’s struggle as an artist, and Emily thinks Celeste is arrogant, condescending, and a control freak. By the finale of the film, however, both Celeste and Emily realize that neither one is a villain. Both of them are just trying to achieve a level of their own perfection. Wells highlights the antithesis of this through a unique visual metaphor in the film. In an earlier scene, when Emily is having a meltdown about her life, her friend Jen (Daniella Pineda) dumps a glass of water on her. Emily is shocked and at a complete loss for words. However, as she stands there drenched in water, she’s grounded back to Earth. It was Jen’s way of telling her to shut up, stop thinking the world revolves around her, and to stop taking herself so seriously. In one of the film’s final scenes, for the first time we see Celeste’s vulnerability. On the verge of a complete panic attack when things begin to fall through the cracks with Mr. Roosevelt’s memorial brunch, she tells Emily, “I don’t know how to handle stuff like this.” As she begins to repeat her words, fighting tears, Emily realizes that Celeste is bottling up a lot of pain and frustration inside. She dumps a glass of water at Celeste, and Celeste starts laughing in shock. Just like Jen helped Emily realize that she needs to stop taking everything so seriously, Emily helps Celeste realize the same.
Through Emily’s relationship with Celeste, Wells cements the idea that perfection is completely unattainable. Sometimes, things fall through the cracks, and that’s okay. At the end of the film, Emily walks away with Jen, having learned to accept her messiness in all its chaos and glory. The tagline of the film, “We fall apart to come together” feels like it couldn’t be more right for the story. It’s a stunning debut with a beautiful theme underscoring the story, and it’ll be exciting to see what Wells comes up with next.
