SOMETIMES THINGS REALLY do happen like that," narrates
Manny, a confident, self-possessed 11-year-old, "strange,
wonderful things." She could easily be describing the film
Manny and Lo itself, a wonderful, idiosyncratic fairy tale
about the nature of motherhood and the meaning of the term "family."
With Manny and Lo, first-time writer and director Lisa
Krueger has crafted a moving and funny drama that hinges on what
characters fail to say, rather than what they do--resulting in
one of those rare and delightful films that carries itself through
the skill of the actors and the storytelling power of its images.
Manny (Scarlett Johansson) and Lo (Aleksa Palladino) are orphaned
sisters, ages 11 and 16, who run away from their separate foster
families and take up the Bedouin's life on the road. They travel
in their dead mother's station wagon, poaching food from convenience
marts and squatting in vacant model homes. Lo, the oldest, is
a tough piece of work with a tender center; her younger sister
Manny idolizes her, even as she palpably longs for her dead mother,
going so far as to spray the maternal brand of antiperspirant
all over the sheets before going to sleep. (Her hardened sister
insists that mom smelled like beer, however.) Lo has a habit of
warping reality to fit her needs, and continues to insist that
she's just fat long into her pregnancy. When she finally makes
it to the clinic, she's too far along to get the abortion for
which she asks.
Faced with Lo's impending motherhood, the girls decide to hole
up in an empty vacation home, where they come across a videotape
of the mistress of the house giving birth. Terrified by the apparent
discomfort of the process, Lo concludes she will need some help
when her time comes. Medical attention is out of the question,
since the girls are convinced that they are wanted by the police,
so instead they kidnap a motherly, nurse-like woman, Elaine (Mary
Kay Place) from the local baby-goods store.
Sequestered in the vacation house, this trio strikes up a
strange but compelling dynamic. All three are in some way discarded,
unwanted persons: Manny and Lo are unloved foster children; Elaine,
who seems to have once been institutionalized for being, as she
says "not terribly unified," isn't even missed when
she disappears. All three, in their own way, long for a sense
of family. And in an oblique way, they end up creating it for
themselves.
All this is occasionally narrated by Manny in semi-poetic voice-overs.
Krueger has managed to capture the natural, slightly weird cant
of an 11-year-old's thoughts in a way that enriches the story,
even as it fails to move the plot forward. This film isn't afraid
to meander a bit into the realm of the mystery of character, and
one of its most delightful aspects is a willingness to explore
the by-ways of human experience, even if they don't necessarily
leave us on the edge of our seats, plot-wise. Some of the most
original sequences in this film occur when Manny meets a corporate-minded
little boy her own age and instantly becomes fascinated by his
mother. Manny's craving for a family is so sharp, it's a wonder
she never states it directly. It's simply apparent from the way
she behaves, and all the more moving for her lack of sentimentality.
Manny's narration also places Manny and Lo into an 11-year-old's
point of view, lending the film a slightly precious, fairy-tale
atmosphere. The jewelry-box-ballerina score, composed by John
Lurie, furthers the sense that this is a childhood myth where
anything can happen, even things strange by adult standards. It
also affords Manny, who is mostly an observer of the action, the
respected position of being our storyteller for the evening. Krueger
apparently has similar respect for the young actors who play Manny
and Lo--they're on screen pretty much the entire time--but the
most captivating performance of the film belongs to Mary Kay Place,
who won an Emmy for her role as the country western singer on
Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman. Place is disarming as the prim,
maternal Elaine, a suburban soccer-mom type with an edge. Her
portrayal of a craziness laced with clarity allows us to believe
strange, wonderful things happen to grown ups, too.