With a name like Janet Planet, one might imagine a Magic School Bus-esque voyage to the moon, led by an eccentric lady named Janet. There’s probably a joke about that rhyme somewhere in the trailer, and another rhyme hidden in the logline. Films with rhyming titles don’t tend to be taken especially seriously – From Prada to Nada (2011) and Good Luck Chuck (2007), for example, are both low-stakes romantic comedies – as studio concerns about catchiness are often left up to the work of the advertising team. Genre exceptions like Fright Night (1985) and Kill Bill (2003) are now so ingrained in pop culture that the latter has served as inspiration for a much-loved SZA song, and both are still generally considered to be “fun” movies.
Janet Planet is not about an eccentric woman going to space, nor is it much “fun” in the conventional sense. It will probably never reach Kill Bill levels of stardom (although my indie sympathies pine for an alternate universe). Yet it is exactly that subversion of moniker expectations that makes Annie Baker’s debut film so interesting.
Janet Planet is, in fact, a small business – a homegrown acupuncture clinic run by the mother of the protagonist, a quirky 11-year-old named Lacy (Zoe Ziegler). Julianne Nicholson plays the titular Janet as a stolid woman trying to make a peaceful life for her family of two, occasionally three. And that is what we see: Lacy, although occasionally caught up in the extremes of youthful emotions, generally likes her life. She is a bit morbid – her mature allusions to suicide and being “in hell” fall casually out of her child’s mouth – but as she practices keyboard and delicately dresses her figurines in Ghiradelli chocolate wrappers, it appears that she is well-adjusted to her environment. The environment, admittedly, is the thing that’s a bit unusual.
I don’t often see rural Massachusetts hippies portrayed as protagonists in media, and certainly not as open-mindedly as Baker’s film offers to treat them. Janet, per what we can deduce, is a former flower kid who has more or less stumbled into stability via her daughter. Although we see none of her troubled past, and we wouldn’t interpret it through Lacy’s fly-on-the-wall observations, we understand Janet's tumult through her visitors – the temporary summertime residents of Janet Planet, by whose names the film is divided into three chapters. Ultimately, the history we perceive about Janet is not one of rebellion or disorder, but passivity. Her relationships with more animated men have governed her life.
One starts to wonder if Janet might be opening herself up to date women at this stage in her 40s when her old friend Regina (Sophie Okenedo) comes around asking for help. Regina spent years in (and all her money on) a cult before finally breaking free. Unfortunately, Regina is just as susceptible to men – she was dating the cult leader – and eventually, she returns to her prior way of life. Janet accepts her friend’s choice immediately, without question. In a groan-inducing turn of events, Janet herself agrees to a date with the cult leader.
I found this angle of male dominance striking in a story about mother and daughter, especially because Lacy seems to be Janet’s only real source of self-definition. It is Janet’s initial boyfriend’s threat of violence against Lacy that leads her to cut ties with him. It is Lacy’s judgment of the cult leader that appears to put Janet’s delusions into check. It is also Lacy who asks her mother how she’d feel if Lacy ever dates a woman, to which Janet responds (in relative paraphrase): “You have a forthright, almost aggressive quality. I always worried…” she corrects herself, “I always thought, that being with a woman might be easier for you.”
In this assessment of Lacy, Janet appears to concede her own man-pleasing tendencies. She later admits that she knows she’s not very beautiful, but that she always believed that she could make any man fall in love with her if she really tried. Stunned by her confession of ego, she says that she’s never told anyone that before. One feels that, although her daughter clearly looks up to her, and Janet does perform fundamental maternal duties with grace, she is plagued by a concerning lack of assurance. Janet’s way of navigating her identity crisis is mainly by contrasting herself with her daughter.
Julianne Nicholson is excellent in her elusive role. There’s a monologue in this movie when she is taking drugs with Regina (while Lacy spectates) that I genuinely believe to be Oscar-worthy. This is also the scene when writer/director Baker, a seasoned playwright, delivers her thesis. Paraphrased, it is this: “There’s making mistakes, then there’s being aware that you’re making mistakes. So you start to believe you’re a person who makes mistakes, and then accept that as your identity: someone who makes mistakes.”
There is a distinct humor to this scene, for the two middle-aged women are very high, but there is also a sadness to it. Regina rejects Janet’s lack of accountability for her mistakes, and Janet responds in a visceral, yet still measured way: (paraphrased) “I felt like that was the closest I’ve ever been to being myself, and you shut it down. You denied me this moment of realization.” Regina then instructs Lacy to fetch her mom a glass of water, and the epiphany has passed. But oh, is it brilliant.
To disregard Lacy’s character would be to undermine the point of the film. As far as I can be endeared, I can admit she is a weird little girl. As a former weird little girl myself, however, she is the truest depiction of innocence emanating from an old soul. She struggles to make friends and can’t help but tell the truth, but she is still learning. I most of all cherished the tactile memories of a lonely childhood: sucking on a piece of candy while walking home from the piano teacher’s house, fixating on a piece of paper stuck to the wall, lying in the grass when you feel like the world’s going to end. I know the summer when everyone has gone away and all you have is the woods and the sunroom. I’ve entertained myself for hours and hours upon end. Lacy only has her mother, but she does not feel deprived.
I could smell the patchouli, feel the gentle breeze at dusk, taste the microwaved pastry. It’s a literary film, with sensory details in every shot, even if some of the camera framing might inspire confusion. I’d like to believe that some of the awkward cut-offs represent Lacy’s incomplete view of the world, such as when her hair is being brushed in the bathroom mirror at neck height. I was charmed by its slow start and visual imperfections, just as I felt invigorated by its lively ending.
We can envision a future wherein Janet sees herself outside the men who express interest in her, but it is Lacy who will almost certainly escape that holding pattern. This movie is for the mothers who’ve faded, and the daughters who’ve loved them just the same.
-Lydia
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