This past Friday, I found myself in a very unique situation. I was at my sister’s house and we discovered that Disney+ had put up Maleficent: Mistress of Evil (2019). Considering that we were longing to find ANY movie to watch, we decided to give it a chance and take in the rare Disney live-action remake sequel. What made this particular version worthy of expansion? Well, I will say this. It’s not good, but it does continue this clever reinvention of what it means to be a mother in the 21st century, giving depth to this fantasy world. I can see why people like it, but even in a good mood, I find that the whole experience eludes me.
After she went to bed, I popped on over to another thing that had recently premiered: The Great. From The Favourite (2018) screenwriter Tony McNamara, it is a satire that explored the life of Catherine the Great. It was a “sometimes true” story that was more rooted in farce, winking at how ridiculous the megalomaniac nature of these characters ultimately was. Nobody could write such an elegant stream of profanity like McNamara, managing to make this lush costume drama savage when it needed. Sure it takes liberties in the same way that Deadwood did with the old west, but this one idiosyncrasy arguably makes the whole thing better.
To put it simply, I love this show. Every episode is a delight and I’m sure that I’d be further through the show if I didn’t have so many other things going on. It’s so full of wit and compelling stories, continuing to remind us why Nicholas Hoult deserves more credit as an actor.
So, what does Maleficent: Mistress of Evil and The Great have in common? Why even bring them up in the same sentence? There is one actress in particular who I have long been a huge fan of, and am excited to see her pop up in just about anything.
In all honesty, Elle Fanning is one of my favorite actresses of her generation. It happened so gradually that I can’t fully explain how it happened. When I watch her in The Great, I see this confidence that makes her capable of delivering a sense of elegance even as she dives into some questionable scenarios. It’s a charisma that I’ve seen her give for a decade now, likely even longer. But for me, she defines this great talent who can capture the teenage angst, of an outsider who doesn’t fully belong.
Much like her sister Dakota Fanning, it feels like she’s played that role forever, but I can’t imagine the 2010s being what it was without her. Maybe it was the fact that she was constantly releasing movies through the brilliant indie label A24, or that nobody felt as consistent at this archetype as she did. Sure you had Emma Roberts or Saoirse Ronan, but their masterful turns were far between. I don’t think they captured this moment of life quite the same, nor do I see the eternal teenage trope as being limiting.
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| Super 8 |
I want to say that the first time I noticed Fanning as someone with potential was Super 8 (2011). Regardless of what you think of him now, J.J. Abrams’ sole original idea movie was this fun piece of nostalgia that attempted to pay homage to the Amblin Entertainment ethos with mixed results. I remember watching it and enjoying her performance, in particular, capturing this weird girl who hung out with the nerdy friends, eager to make shorts on Super 8 film (get it?). When she’d dress up as a zombie, she would really get into the role. I love how she had this energy to her, that while maybe a bit of a caricature she was charming.
Something that is probably lost on modern audiences is how much of an unstoppable force Dakota Fanning was in the early-2000s. She was the child star. I personally felt like she never aged and would be seven forever. Still, the idea of anyone in that family overshadowing her felt like a Herculean task in 2011, and yet here was Elle Fanning in a b-movie pastiche doing everything to win us over. I would later realize that this wasn’t the first place that I saw her. It was just the first that resonated with me.
I think the only performance before this that is worthy of note was Sofia Coppola’s Somewhere (2010). While that film is a quiet story that is often made fun of for being slow, I’ve grown to love how meditative it is and am personally drawn to watching Fanning skate around to Gwen Stefani’s “Cool.” It’s a beautiful moment and one that feels stuck in eternal youth. The rest of the story was her first real chance to create a dramatic character, and this strained father-daughter relationship is full of this deep insight. You understand that this is personal to Coppola, and their next team-up in The Beguiled (2017) shows just how much she’s grown in the seven years since. She’s more restrained, capable of playing precocious while also hiding some secret force in her eyes.
To be clear, I don’t love every film that she’s done. While Francis Ford Coppola is one of the greatest living filmmakers, I am still baffled by Twixt (2011). I also am not a fan of Maleficent (2014) or its sequel, as I believe it’s almost counterintuitive to her charisma in the same way that Alice in Wonderland (2010) is to Mia Wasikowska. You can’t appreciate her when she’s a smaller pawn in a bigger story. You need to have moments of intimacy and heart, allowing her to get emotional and understand the complexity of being young and frustrated with the world. She doesn’t treat it as melodrama. It’s all personal and real.
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| 20th Century Women |
For me, this was never truer than in 20th Century Women (2016). If she has produced one performance that paints a picture of where her career will go, it’s this one. The film is full of great performances, notably from Annette Benning and Greta Gerwig who have rarely been better than when they’re discussing how to raise Jamie (Lucas Jade Zumann) without a traditional father figure. It’s during the Jimmy Carter era, the late-70s, and finds him seeing the shift from an older style of womanhood and modern third-wave feminism.
Jamie’s friend Julie is a figure who is presented as the cool girl, the one that may be a bit of a rebel. She’s willing to sneak out after curfew and have fun with her friends, smoke cigarettes and be a teenager. She’s just as responsible in shaping Jamie’s world view, and her ability to get close to him, showing him that women are just as complicated as men, deserving of respect that wasn’t seen as masculine. Her ability to reach him allows for these small moments to click, making you see her as this figure that’s full of wisdom while also being naïve.
She is the youngest of the female figures in his life, and the one who takes him through formative periods, forcing him to notice what is wrong with his simple actions. There is this chemistry and care between them that manages to draw a line between conventional teenagers and something more honest. She isn’t a nag, but someone who only wants the best for him, and you come to love her as the person who has the most ability to change him for the better while also learning from Benning and Gerwig that she has a lot to think about, too.
For most of her career, she has played this archetype, but with less interesting results. If she brings anything to her role, it’s this ability to feel like an outsider. She is reserved, capable of standing in the back of the room, and just observing a situation. She has this aura about her that makes you capable of not noticing her, a voice so quiet and timid that you have to lean in to hear her. But she has so much insight once you get to know her, being able to see that gorgeous smile that she doesn’t give just anyone.
That may be why films like The Vanishing of Sidney Hall (2017) and Teen Spirit (2018) are capable of using her as this underdog. There’s also Mary Shelley (2017) that unfortunately doesn’t do its subject justice, considering that Fanning had the capability to make the writer a traumatized and dark character worthy of the source material. With that said, she gives her all and even makes films as lacking as How to Talk to Girls at Parties (2017) and A Rainy Day in New York (2019) have at least a few moments worthy of conversation. She is committed in a way that I haven’t seen, likely because she has averaged three to four films since 2014, finding substance in these oddballs that could just be caricaturing in anyone else’s hands.
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| The Neon Demon |
I suppose if there’s one film that encapsulates her charisma on the other side, it would be The Neon Demon (2016). Whereas 20th Century Women found her creating her most honest character, there is something to be said about her glittery psychological horror film. The advertising highlighted the fact that she was bleeding a shade of purple. The score by Cliff Martinez sounded like a Tangerine Dreams reject, full of these fantasy touches that were only undone by Nicholas Winding Refn’s strange body horror on what it means to be a woman in the modern era.
I’m not guaranteeing that you’ll love it, but Refn created a vision of the fashion industry that is dark and strange, full of these creatures that take on the form of people preying on Fanning’s Jesse. Her beauty is a commodity, and everyone wants it. There’ plenty of uncomfortable stuff going on, but Fanning is the observant center, managing to hold her own confidence against a world that wants to corrupt her. While it changes her, these moments are gradual and have a haunting impact on the tone.
More than anything, I think that her body of work has such a mix of conventional and weird that you are never tired. She doesn’t just go for the easy roles and spent much of the decade defining herself by these two poles. Maybe she’ll be like Ryan Gosling and ultimately outgrow her weird, experimental phase. There’s reason to suggest that this is the case. However, even her conventional dramas still have enough substance to show that she’s capable of so much more. You’re still charmed by her ability to be that friend you trust, believing that everything will be fine so long as you have their warmth to turn to.
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| All the Bright Places |
Along with The Great, Fanning has had a decent 2020 so far. While by no means exemplary, All the Bright Places (2020) is a decent coming-of-age film that explores teen angst from a different perspective. It focuses on mental health and understanding how to live a normal life while having these personal fears of the world. It’s sweet and ultimately has its heart in the right place. I’m sure some will see Fanning playing teenagers for the umpteenth time as annoying, but for me, it still works.
She may not have the greatest body of work, but she is one of those actresses who has never let me down. Whenever I find out that she’s in a movie, I’m more intrigued because I know that she’ll bring something unique to the role, fleshing out characters in such a way that few other performers have. Even something as tepid as Ginger & Rosa (2013) feels better for having her on board. They may not all be masterpieces. Most of them stall out at being really good. Even then, I’m drawn to her potential and capability.
I like to think that The Great is a turning point of sorts, reflecting a shift into more mature roles that allow her to take more risks in a different way. Unless she wants to work with Refn again, I’d love to see her play more with period pieces or challenge the idea of being lost in your 20s. I hope this trajectory continues to be a positive one, full of memorable roles that show a performer never choosing to just try one archetype for the rest of her life. Every character is its own entity, and I love that about her. Anyways, I’ll talk to you later. I’m back to watching The Great.
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