Rebecca Miller has, to date, been a hard director to pin down. The engaging Personal Velocity was a lively, hip portmanteau; the near-disastrous The Ballad of Jack and Rose hinted at traumas best left undisturbed. It comes as a surprise to relate that her most successful film yet is also her most conventional. That is not to suggest that Maggie's Plan is any sort of mainstream blockbuster, but we can see its lines in erudite New-York comedies by Woody Allen and Noah Baumbach.
Indeed, Baumbach’s most recent muse, Greta Gerwig, pops up in the title role. Maggie turns out to be something of a Gerwig type: a clever, confused student whose charm compensates for her lack of direction. Keen to have a baby, but not yet in a relationship, she selects Guy (Travis Fimmel), a bearded Brooklyn type who really does make artisan pickles, as a more-than-ideal sperm donor.
Her timing could hardly be worse. Before being declared pregnant, she falls for John, a “ficto-critical anthropologist” (you see what we mean by mentioning Noah Baumbach) played by a convincingly vain Ethan Hawke. We haven’t got to the plan yet. It involves Georgette (Julianne Moore), Jack’s estranged wife, and it takes in the convulsions you’d expect from a play by William Wycherley or RB Sheridan.
Those allergic to the self-satisfaction that characterises the upmarket New York comedy will find themselves coming out in vigorous hives (yes, we said "artisan pickles"). If you can overlook the genre's demerits, Maggie's Plan should slip down very easily indeed. The plot works its way neatly through a near-complete narrative ellipse. Sam Levy's cinematography is gorgeous. And the three cross-generational leads – one in her 30s, one in his 40s, the third in her 50s – play deliciously together.
It is a treat to be reminded how adept Julianne Moore is at comedy. Her Georgette is a gorgeously cruel collation of clichés regarding the Teutonic feminist academic. She hasn't kicked up so many laughs since The Big Lebowski. Good for her.
