Fwends, the debut feature from Australian director Sophie Somerville, takes a meandering look at the complexities of friendship and the existential struggle that so often defines the transition from adolescence to adult life. Taking a largely improvisational approach (the film’s leads are credited as co-writers), Somerville paints a loving portrait of the city of Melbourne as two old friends banter and bicker their way to a better understanding of each other, and themselves.
When Em (playwright Emmanuelle Mattana), arrives in Melbourne for a spontaneous weekend trip to visit her childhood friend Jessie (Melissa Gan), they seem an unlikely pair. Em, a lawyer based in Sydney, is rigid, uncomfortable in her own skin, and driven to monologue incessantly about the toxic work culture at her firm. Jessie, on the other hand, is the kind of girl who earnestly hugs trees in the park. Or maybe more accurately: the kind of girl who wants you to believe that she’s the kind of girl who earnestly hugs trees in the park.
Chattering away in a familiar shorthand, their conversation is tinged with that affectionate but awkward quality typical of old friends who have grown apart and, in many ways, become strangers to one another. As the gentle and flighty Jessie does her best to play tour guide and show her friend a good time even as she copes with the fallout of a recent breakup, Em seems frustratingly determined to lose herself in a litany of complaints. When Jessie finally tires of the attitude and confronts her, Em reveals the real (and maddeningly predictable) reason for her unexpected visit. Her boss made a pass at her, and rather than offering support, her female mentor simply laid into her for failing to stand up for herself. Conflicted and feeling trapped in a life she’s worked incredibly hard to build, she felt compelled to run to the embrace of a friendship that existed long before she had to deal with any of these complicated grown-up dilemmas.
To be sure, an interesting (if occasionally grating) aspect of the film is the way that these two grown women seem to revert somewhat to their childhood personas, nattering away in high pitched babygirl voices, building forts and playing with toy microphones like they’re at an overgrown adolescent slumber party. At one point, as they stand draped in luminescent chiffon fabric on Jessie’s balcony, their conversation turns once again to serious matters. For a moment feeling safe in this makeshift facsimile of childhood innocence, Em and Jessie trade revelations and deeply held insecurities about their very adult lives.
Shortly thereafter, the narrative takes a sharp turn when Jessie gets them locked out and the pair makes the interesting choice to score some MDMA and stay out all night rather than simply book a hotel room. Taking advantage of their drug-fueled adventure to indulge in a veritable smorgasbord of mishmashed cinematic motifs, Somerville’s film loses some cohesiveness, but gains momentum. As the girls careen about the city and their inhibitions melt away, Jessie reveals herself to be far darker, more complicated, and far less empathetic than she pretends to be. Perhaps it’s no surprise they drifted apart after all.
In the morning, when the pair finally manage to sneak back into the apartment, Em reads aloud as Jessie snoozes peacefully next to her. The passage she reads is about love, friendship and the complex but ultimately redeeming nature of humanity. The scene appears intended to impart a more profound meaning to the events of the film, but feels slightly contrived and far less authentic than its actual conclusion.
In the film’s final moments, Jessie walks Em to the metro and they part awkwardly, in an exchange that will feel genuinely familiar to most of us. There is no dramatic moment of rapprochement to be witnessed, nor do we sense that the relationship between them has been forever changed. It seems unlikely that they as individuals are going to change anything about their lives or how they move about the world. It feels incredibly true to life, and serves as a fitting capstone to Somerville’s minor mumblecore opus.
Fwends premiered in the Forum programme of the 75th Berlin International Film Festival.
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