Lars and the Real Girl
Ryan Gosling is a marvel. He takes a precious conceit — withdrawn young man orders an anatomically correct sex doll and introduces it to friends and family as his girlfriend — and gives it the ache and the elation of reality. In his hands, “Lars and the Real Girl” transcends its indie-quirky affectations and becomes a moving chronicle of fear, grief and the need for intimacy. Lars Lindstrom (Gosling) was raised by his father after his mother died while giving birth to him. After his father’s death, Lars’s older brother, Gus (Paul Schneider), moved with his wife, Karin (Emily Mortimer), back into the family farmhouse. Lars took up residence in the garage. (We learn this backstory gradually, organically.)
The movie opens with Karin unable to leave Lars alone. He gets no respite at work, either, where he’s subjected to the aggressive, if wholesome, come-ons of the adorable Margo (Kelli Garner). Then Bianca the doll shows up — and Lars insists that she’s a real person and be treated as such. After protesting — hilariously, thanks to Mortimer and Schneider — they agree. The town’s general practicioner (Patricia Clarkson), the closest thing they have to a psychiatrist, insists that they go along with Lars’s fantasy. (The movie takes place in a nebulously defined small town, perhaps in Minnesota; look here for my rant about inattention to the specifics of setting.) Other folks in the tightknit community, including the family’s minister (they are regular churchgoers) chip in, too, accepting Bianca as one of their own.
Gosling sells, but doesn’t oversell, Lars’s fear of intimacy, through pinched expressions and shrinking posture. There’s an extraordinary scene when the doctor touches him and he recoils as if in physical pain. The death of his mother is the key to unlocking Lars; he grew up without any affection and has no idea how to show it to others. So he invents a person who will accept his doting without asking questions. Before anyone meets Bianca, Lars announces that she doesn’t speak much English and uses a wheelchair. The disability is more than just a convenient means for Bianca to get from point A to point B. It’s Lars’s way of ensuring that she needs his care.
There’s not a hint of irony in Gosling’s performance; he believes in Lars, and so do we. He’s wounded and sad and proud — unsure of his place in the world, but still a good, decent man. And everyone responds to his decency. They even forgive him for having sex with a doll, which everyone wrongly assumes he’s doing. (Bianca sleeps in the farmhouse; she won’t share a bed with Lars because she’s “very religious.”) It’s obvious that Margo is perfect for Lars, but the movie still manages to bring them together tenderly and inventively. Garner is luminous in her frumpy-sexy wardrobe. She communicates the kindness beneath Margo’s mischievous streak; we know she’s worthy of Lars. “Lars and the Real Girl,” written by Nancy Oliver and directed by Craig Gillespie, is an inventive and satisfying romantic comedy that puts a truly strange and funny obstacle in the way of a winning couple.