There's Nothing Plastic About Lars and the Real Girl

I joined my friends for a late-night showing of Lars and the Real Girl armed only with the knowledge that it starred Ryan Gosling, who won me over in The Notebook (though not as much as James Garner in the same role), and that it involved a "love doll" who Lars introduces as his girlfriend. All I could think was of Jude Law in A.I.; I assumed this was some sort of crude futuristic comedy about a man's extended relationship with what amounts to a mechanical prostitute. I expected her to walk and talk and betray only the slightest indications that she was not biologically based. Boy, was I in for a surprise!

We see from the film's opening scenes that Lars Lindstrom (Gosling) is severely socially stunted. He lives in a large garage on the property of the house where Gus (Paul Schneider), his distant older brother, lives with his compassionate, pregnant wife Karin (Emily Mortimer), and though she tries valiantly to coax him out of his isolation, Lars merely smiles blandly, blinks rapidly and retreats into his own private world from which he emerges only for church on Sundays and work during the week. It's on the job that he learns about a company from which he can purchase a life-size, anatomically correct doll. Ignoring the timid advances of Margo (Kelli Garner), a sweet, broad-grinned co-worker, he investigates further...

When an enormous package arrives at his door six weeks later, we all have a pretty good idea what it is, but Karin and Gus don't, so they're ecstatic when a giddy Lars rings on their doorbell to announce that he has a visitor and, out of a sense of propriety, he would like permission for her to stay in their guest room rather than in the garage with him. And then they meet Bianca, whose name does not appear on the cast list because there is nothing remotely human about her. She is nothing but a life-size doll with a glazed expression and an inability to stand up. Hence, she must sit in a wheelchair, which Lars must purchase for her because, as he explains in his first real conversation since the start of the movie, it was lost along with the rest of her luggage on the plane from Brazil. To Lars, Bianca is very real, and as he converses with her at the dinner table, Gus and Karin exchange looks of alarm. Lars clearly has lost his mind.

But a small stroke of genius by Karin lands them in the office of Dagmar (Patricia Clarkson), a doctor who, under the guise of treating Bianca for a mysterious illness, initiates weekly psychiatric sessions with Lars in which she patiently encourages him to reveal his buried feelings bit by bit. Meanwhile, she advises the reluctant Karin and incredulous Gus to act as though Bianca is real. Rather than keep up this ruse on their own, they alert their friends, their pastor and the most prominent members of their congregation. Soon, the whole town knows about Bianca, and the already close-knit community grows even closer as they rally around her, adopting her as a sort of mascot and almost forgetting themselves that she's nothing but a hunk of plastic.

Gosling is fantastic as Lars, whose insecurities run so deep that physical contact with another person is literally painful for him. In the beginning, he seems to have no concept of how to interact normally with others. He stares blankly when people speak to him, often not acknowledging them at all. But something happens when Bianca arrives. He begins to act like a normal person. Yes, he spends half his time talking to a doll and inventing her end of the conversation, which only he can hear, but he also talks to the people around him, coming out of his shell gradually, to the point where he is attending parties and accepting Margo's invitation to go bowling, which never would have happened before Bianca. Although most people initially regard him as a freak for believing that this doll is alive, through her he is able to finally begin really living. Gosling's transformation from almost robotically awkward, complete with a unique collection of tics, to fully functional within the community at large is dramatic and totally believable.

Everyone in the cast is equally impressive. I loved Mortimer, who brought gentleness coupled with a fierce spirit to this very concerned sister-in-law who in many ways seems to act like the mother Lars never knew. Schneider's expressive face enhances the comedy of the film's strangest moments. Gus is less willing to go along with the charade than just about anyone else in town, and as such he probably echoes the reaction of many watching the movie. He's the voice of reason in an unreasonable series of events, but he slowly comes to discover that if you care enough about a person, you're willing to put aside your dignity for his well-being.

There is a definite Pinocchio-ish strain through this movie as everyone around Lars hopes that his love for Bianca will eventually be replaced with love for a "real girl". The girl in question is Margo, and Garner is absolutely winning as this understanding young woman who is so fond of Lars despite, or perhaps because of, all his oddities. Once she recovers from her initial shock, she treats Bianca warmly and is careful to make only overtures of friendship to Lars, lest it appear she is trying to sabotage his relationship. The blue fairy would be the magnanimous Dagmar, and Clarkson wonderfully conveys her professionalism and quiet willingness to listen and not to judge. She allows Lars to call all the shots in his courtship with Bianca and in his decisions to share the secrets he has long kept submerged.

Each of Lars' neighbors has something to contribute to his development, from the kindly secretary at work to the feisty elderly woman at church who is especially attentive to him. The movie was filmed in Ontario, and Adam Kimmel's cinematography offers lots of sparse, snowy landscapes, which look at once forbidding and inviting. David Tom's simple guitar-based score complements the landscape perfectly. As far as I noticed, the name of the town was never mentioned, nor the location. I assumed it to be somewhere in the northern reaches of Wisconsin or Minnesota, but perhaps it's meant to take place in Canada. I guess it doesn't really matter; the ambiguity lends the film more universality.

Every element of this movie, which was filmed in a month and looks like it didn't cost very much, is perfectly in place, from the excellent cast to Craig Gillespie's direction. They take Nancy Oliver's unconventional but beautiful screenplay and make it seem perfectly plausible. Sure, the community is idealized; it's one thing to accept Lars' fantasy with a wink and a nod, quite another to rush Bianca off by ambulance and admit her into the emergency room. Then again, in such a small town, the hospital probably doesn't have a lot of patients to deal with at any given time and can afford to play along for the sake of a townsperson who, by the end of the film, can have no doubt as to how much he is loved. If everyone grows to care about Bianca, who takes on a fabled philanthropic life of her own like Captain Tuttle, the officer Hawkeye invents in one of my favorite episodes of M*A*S*H, it's because they are willing to go to such great lengths to sustain the happiness of their delusional friend and help him to become an active part of the community.

I wasn't sure what to expect out of Lars and the Real Girl, but I certainly wasn't prepared for something this tender and touching, a movie that made me feel good about being a person and hopeful for our ability to work together for the good of others, even if our first inclination is to scoff and scorn. As I sat in the theater with a sparse sprinkling of other viewers, I don't think the smile ever left my face. Who knew that a movie about a plastic doll would have so much to say about humanity?