A24 Film No. 13: Laggies (2014)

Laggies feels like you are watching something you have seen before, but that at the same time feels entirely different. There are plenty of stories about characters in their late twenties or early thirties struggling with “adulthood expectations”: career failures, emotional immaturity, or a lack of direction about what to do with their lives. When a man goes through this type of crisis, he is usually presented as a goofy, laughable character. In these stories, they are often surrounded by women who smile, support him, and help him grow (love is always the final savior), without him suffering significant social consequences for his actions. In other words, the classic “man-child” that we have seen in so many comedy movies from the 1990s and early 2000s. In this case, what could have easily been an Adam Sandler character is instead portrayed as a female protagonist. And this gender choice is important because it brings to light the unique expectations that women encounter during their quarter-life crisis, making their experience somewhat different.


Directed by Lynn Shelton, Laggies tells the story of Megan (played by Keira Knightley), a 28-year-old who feels she is falling behind in life. Despite being overeducated, she works as a sign twirler for her father’s company while her high school friends are getting married, having children, and apparently succeeding in every aspect of what adulthood is supposed to look like. She is still dating her high school sweetheart, whom she does not seem particularly interested in, and her sense of humor still feels closer to that of a teenager. In a way, she is what society might label a failure. Her friends and family see that she is falling behind, but they are not capable of truly helping her. In a moment of crisis, right after getting engaged to her boyfriend, she escapes home under the pretense of attending a career seminar, only to end up befriending a group of teenagers and staying at the house of one of them (Annika, played by ChloĆ« Grace Moretz).


Growing up… is really that hard?


Just like in Obvious Child (2014), the looming presence of turning thirty is constantly breathing down Megan’s neck. As a result, Laggies becomes another exploration of this genre of films about growing up during adulthood (trying to figure out who you are, where you fit in the world, and how to navigate social expectations). The title itself says it all, referring to the idea of being in a “lag,” of falling behind and remaining stuck while everyone else seems to move forward with their lives.


Throughout the film, Megan never experiences a single moment of enlightenment in which she suddenly figures out what she wants to do. Instead, by spending time with Annika and her friends, it becomes increasingly clear to her that her current social circle is not where she feels comfortable anymore. With her own friends, she cannot fully be herself without being judged or looked down upon. With Annika’s group, however, she becomes someone who is looked up to, which highlights some of her better qualities and gives her a different perspective on herself. In this world, the teenagers work almost like a mirror for Megan: they expose how stuck she is between life stages, but they also provide a space where her immaturity does not immediately translate into social failure.


While the career retreat she initially claims to attend is a farce, the week she spends with her new friend (and with Annika’s father, played by Sam Rockwell) feels like a temporary resting point. It is a pause that allows her to slow down, breathe, and eventually find the courage to leave behind her old social environment and break off her engagement. Instead of presenting adulthood as a linear progression toward a desired state of maturity, Laggies suggests that sometimes the most meaningful change can come from stepping outside the expected timeline altogether.


Megan is a silly character, and many of her actions are questionable. Beyond the broader reflection on adulthood, what I find particularly interesting about the film is how it plays with genre expectations about what a woman should be at Megan’s age compared to a man. If the protagonist were male, the same silliness would probably be framed as funnier and treated with more permissiveness by those around him. While he might still be criticized, his behavior would likely not be interpreted as a total personal failure, and he would probably have a stronger support system willing to tolerate his “man-child” tendencies.


Because Megan is a female character, there seems to be a harsher moral judgment on everything she does (because she should have everything figured out, be married, and have kids at that age, right? Isn't that what women are told they should have at 28?). The scenes of her skating with the teenagers, attending parties, and goofing around would come across as comedic if portrayed by a male actor. However, with Megan in the lead, everything has a rather sad tone. A guy in that role might have been seen as just "one more" member of the group. In contrast, everyone seems to feel that Megan is not a teenager. This creates an uncanny impression, as she appears to belong there because of her behavior, yet she also seems like she shouldn't be there. And yet, in the scenes where she needs to portray an adult figure (like when she impersonates Annika's mom to attend a meeting with the school principal), she is awkward and fails to recognize the cues for how she's supposed to behave.


I believe one of the film's weaker points is its somewhat superficial treatment of adult dilemmas. The portrayal of adulthood in the movie appears distinctly undesirable, but that doesn't mean we should avoid seeking an "adultness" that aligns better with our identities (even if it means accepting certain social conventions). Nonetheless, the film does provide an interesting starting point for discussions about gendered expectations, adulthood, and the societal pressure to adhere to a predetermined life timeline. In many ways, the film's spirit resonates with a broader millennial anxiety regarding delayed adulthood.


For many people in their late twenties during the 2010s (and when the movie was released), the traditional markers of adulthood (stable careers, home ownership, marriage, or financial independence) were increasingly difficult to achieve. Higher education did not necessarily translate into stable employment, and many young adults found themselves overqualified for the jobs they could get (which is still happening). Megan’s situation reflects this uncertainty: despite being educated, she ends up working as a sign-twirler for her father’s company, which visually reinforces the idea of someone stuck in a temporary stage that has lasted longer than expected. Her sense of being “behind,” therefore, does not only come from personal indecision, but also from a generational experience in which the path toward adulthood feels less stable and more delayed than it did for previous generations. The problem is that, at least based on the premise and ending of the film, there does not seem to be an answer or escape from this millennial anxiety, and we could be facing a Peter Pan generation that not only faces more challenges to grow up but also seems to refuse them.


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