CIFF 2022 | ‘Monica’ review: A bold and bittersweet family portrait
Trace Lysette and Patricia Clarkson helm Andrea Pallaoro’s new drama, forging new paths in the craft of transgender character studies.
Trace Lysette and Patricia Clarkson in “Monica.” Photo courtesy of Varient Entertainment.
Both a meditation on trans identity from a refreshing new angle, and a showcase of strongly compelling performances from its main cast, “Monica” is a welcome addition to modern art-house trans film canon, alongside films such as Sebastián Lelio’s “A Fantastic Woman” and Rajko Grlić’s “The Constitution.”
The titular Monica (played by a stoic yet graceful Trace Lysette) is a woman on the verge in Los Angeles. She lives a mostly solitary life, fending off aggressive cat-calls from strangers and leaving tearful, grovelling voicemails to her ex-boyfriend. But a call from her sister-in-law Laura (Emily Browning) sends her back to her childhood home in exurban Ohio, to take care of Eugenia (veteran actor Patricia Clarkson in top form), her terminally ill mother who rejected her more than a decade ago. Unable — or unwilling — to face her mother as herself, Monica poses as a hospice nurse instead, starting down a path to reconciliation, forgiveness, and oft-unspoken acceptance.
In “Monica,” Pallaoro and co-writer Orlando Tirado explore trans identity and its effects on familial relationships without the usual emotional torture porn that most filmmakers think is requisite for discussing such themes. That isn’t to say that everything is peachy keen from start to finish, though. Every exchange between Monica and her family is loaded with subtext that viewers must interpret themselves, charitably or otherwise. When Monica tells her brother Paul that his son resembles him closely, Paul replies, “He reminds me more of you, actually.” There are also constant remarks made about how Monica is “unrecognisable” — and given the context of her family being born and bred middle-class Midwestern stock, we’re inclined to believe these aren’t exactly compliments.
Even when she is alone, the universe seems to conspire against her. After a date gone wrong and a heated argument with her brother, Monica gets into her car and drives away, only to grow tearful as Pulp’s “Common People” comes on the stereo — “You’ll never live like common people / You’ll never do what common people do.” And in some senses, this is true. Her journey with Eugenia towards the end of the latter’s life is much unlike anything most people go through, yet “Monica” shows us that forging your own path is sometimes the best thing that one can do, both for oneself and others — and one doesn’t need to be transgender to resonate with such a sentiment.
Patricia Clarkson could not have been a better choice to play dignified, ailing Eugenia — the subtleties of her performance will leave viewers in awe (and in question) at every turn. Does she know who Monica really is? What is the significance of her inviting Monica to be in a family photo? Has she accepted her daughter’s transition, yet remains too proud to apologise for the hurts of the past? Or is she merely forming a bond with a stranger tasked with caring for her in the vulnerable final moments of her life? We are left guessing in the end, but the tone that the film strikes elsewhere may leave us some hints, such as a scene in which Monica’s niece plays pretend midwife while her brother “gives birth” to a baby doll — showing us that the tides of trans acceptance are shifting, from generation to generation, for the better.
“Monica” receives its North American premiere at the 58th Chicago International Film Festival on October 14, 2022.
