Shiva Baby movie review: Emma Seligman’s satire is a compelling study on sexuality, parenthood and millennialism-Entertainment News , Firstpost

A befuddled young adult; a Jewish memorial service crowded by unabashedly nosy family members; a well-meaning-yet-overbearing set of parents, and (last but not the least) an unexpected cross-link between a former lesbian lover and a present sugar daddy – writer-director Emma Seligman’s Shiva Baby is a delicious hotpot of all these and more.

An extrapolated version of Seligman’s 2018 eight-minute short, MUBI’s latest addition is a masterclass on good filmmaking. As the film begins, we meet Danielle (Rachel Sennott) smack in the middle of an existential crisis. A floundering college graduate, Danielle struggles hard to find a footing in life and lend some meaning to it. The film opens with an intimate shot of her and Max (the sugar daddy in question, played by a refreshing Danny Deferrari) all entwined and en-route to a climax, only to be interrupted by a phone call.

Seligman’s cinematic treatment of her subjects leaves little to the imagination as Danielle fake moans loudly and abruptly gets up to ready herself after the phone call. The palpable awkwardness is further cemented by an apathetic conversation and a feeble hug extended by Max. As he fumbles with the cash, you realise that this is Danielle’s current profession. She declares that the monetary backing is crucial for a career in law that she is pursuing, minutes before she claims she has a “brunch” with another client. Max makes a sorry attempt at jealousy, which Danielle rebuffs with a rude mockery of him.

Yet, throughout their exchange, Danielle’s acute agency is obvious. Her confidence in owning her own body and sexual prowess is almost in-your-face. Seligman is careful in placing Danielle in an equal if not a superior position with respect to Max.

But as the camera pans onto her walking through a pavement in the next scene, Seligman’s lens finds Danielle less assured. The chic, straightened hair has given way to natural curls neatly tied up in a bun; the face is sans any makeup and the young girl is seen tame enough to fit the bill of the quintessential ‘good girl’, ready for the shiva (Jewish memorial service) even though she has no idea who passed away.

The theatricality of Seligman’s film begins at this juncture. The overbearing Jew household, spearheaded by the intrusive presence of Danielle’s intimidating, boundaries-free mother (an inimitable Polly Draper) and overly affable father (Fred Melamed) comes down heavy on Danielle.

Each aunt, cousin, distant uncle eyes the young girl, judges her to glory, and critiques her life choices. Her sudden weight loss is attributed to her apparent eating disorder, her past is questioned innumerable times, and the hags croak their dislike and lack of knowledge for her degree in gender studies. But all the while Seligman chooses to let her incisive dialogues create the tense atmosphere with extreme comedic precision.

The stuffed room with such curious strangers feels humid, and one can almost imagine the sweat dripping off each one’s back. Maria Rusche’s deft camerawork pumps in close angles and over-the-shoulder shots in plenty, to consolidate Danielle’s claustrophobia – both mentally and physically. As the throng gorge on more bagels and lox, casually dissecting their young member’s life choices, Danielle grapples to find an out.

And it is at this stage that Seligman chooses to bring in the first impediment – Danielle’s former high-school crush Maya (Molly Gordon). A confident law school-bound youngster, Maya is everything Danielle strives to be – smart, funny, confident, and popular with the elders.

With Danielle however, Maya is brusque and rude, yet flirtatious and leading in moments, egging her for any reaction. Moments into their encounter, the two enter a twisted dance of approach-avoidance.

And if that were not enough, Danielle soon witnesses her second, more potent hitch – Max. To her horror, she sees him standing blithely across from her father and having a tête-à-tête. Within seconds, Max’s gaze also turns to Danielle and the two turn ashen. Close on Max’s heels comes his “shiksa goddess” wife and their months-old son, both of whom Danielle had no clue about. And thus begins Danielle’s obstacle course, one that she necessarily needs to overcome, in order to maintain a smidgeon of her dignity, independence or privacy.

(Spoiler alert) As her garrulous parents’ rant on about her questionable career choices, both Max and the viewers are provided with an insight into Danielle’s parallel lives and the multiple lies she has woven to keep them functioning simultaneously. From claiming she is a babysitter to her parents (for the hours she works as a sex worker) to telling Max she is a law student, Danielle’s farce is revealed.

Amply bemused, Max sizes up Danielle in light of the newly-gained information, and she slowly but steadily deflates into a blob of nervous energy.

However, Seligman’s unforgiving gaze does not spare Max. His overly sexy sugar-daddy shenanigan soon comes crashing down when he is emasculated by his wife who confesses she works hard to provide for his expenses (“he has a very expensive lifestyle. He loves taking his friends to fancy restaurants,” she quips with an undertone of irritability). The supposedly innocuous shiva then turns into a confessional of sorts where both Max and Danielle unwillingly bare their real loser selves before the other.

Ariel Marx’s menacing, staccato strings-centric score enhances the angst that each character experiences while also highlighting the sheer comedy behind their exposé.

Seligman’s craft lies beneath the multiple layering that Shiva Baby poses before the audience. Through the slightest of motifs, the filmmaker creates compelling sub-narratives on sex work and the stigma surrounding it, and questions social mores like marriage, sexuality, loyalty, parenthood, and millennialism (if I may use the term).

After ample teasing and risky brush-offs with one another, Max and Danielle are unable to put up the we-met-at-the-shule act, and soon enough, his wife and her mother catch on to their obvious past. But even after the truth is exposed, Seligman steers clear of any dramatic confrontation, instead choosing to depict Danielle’s surmounting frustration through the actual cries of Max’s son – the proverbial “shiva baby”.

Danielle’s apparent recklessness in life is only her attempt at trying to fit in, and her obvious directionless attitude is just a reflection of her times and generation. In a particularly cathartic scene, Danielle blurts out a truism on modern-day love, “It’s difficult for us. You know, with these new ways of meeting people online,” she says, all the while staring at Max and his almost-perfect wife’s annoying public display of affection.

Seligman places Maya as the antidote to Max. Maya’s keen interest in Danielle and obvious territorialism with regards to her former love, stands in stark contrast with Max’s non-commitment to Danielle.

Danielle’s constant rebuttal and repartee with Maya forms the other pillar of the film’s narrative. Their one-upmanship is endearing, and Gordon’s irreverent acting chops are the simple joys of indie-film-watching that will never get old. The two fight, spew toxic statements, and take seconds to ridicule the other. But they also admit to missing times spent together, and quickly follow it up with a passionate moment of intimacy (a possible distinction with the film’s opening scene).

Shiva Baby has the potential of becoming the cinematic equal of The Graduate in regards that both films are the youth’s mouthpiece, reflecting a time of hopeless ennui and disillusionment.

Seligman’s ease at showing discomfort reflects well in every character, and demands that we stop and take stock of our goings-on. As Danielle breaks down in the climax screaming “I can’t,” you can almost feel the lump in your throat threatening to give way to a full-blown meltdown. Yes, it can all get a little too overwhelming at times.

Life’s never easy, Seligman tells us, but even for Danielle, it is never without her mum’s supportive hug amidst a room full of hawk-eyed relatives or Maya’s reassuring hands clasping hers in a tight grip.

Shiva Baby is streaming on MUBI.

Rating: ****

(All images from Twitter)