Ladybird vs Moonlight: A Commentary on Representation within Coming of Age Films

Graphic by Zoe Gigis

A large number of individuals look to contemporary cinema with disdain and long for the “good-old days” where films seemed to carry more depth, breadth, and overall artistic quality. However, a few recent films have managed to overcome audience skepticism, reminding us of the true power and potential of a well-made work of art - among these are the alluring coming of age films Moonlight and Ladybird.

These movies transcended audience expectations, as well as the traditional boundaries of the film industry, by shining light on the narratives of members of communities that have rarely been represented on screen. In the case of Moonlight, a queer black man, and in the case of Ladybird, a working-class white woman. The beauty of these films lies in the authenticity of the stories they tell; they don’t hesitate to embrace the complexity of social identity and its real-world implications. 

Yet, when audiences digested these films, there was a subtle incongruity in their reactions. First of all, Ladybird grossed twice as much as Moonlight did in the United States and Canada. To perfectly encapsulate this difference, Camilla Long of The Times wrote about Moonlight that, “[it’s] story has been told countless times, against countless backdrops”, and argued that the film was not “relevant” to a predominantly “straight, white, middle class” audience. To me, this incites a painfully obvious question - why must every film perfectly suit such an audience? 

In contrast, the majority of critic responses to Ladybird are all quite similar to that of Richard Roeper of the Chicago Sun-Times, who called Ladybird; “unique and original and fresh and wonderful”, as well as “appealing”. As film consumers, we are so quick to applaud and appreciate the slight quirks in the way white-centered stories are told, yet when we are confronted with a cinematic reality even marginally different from our own, we reject it - or, at least some of us do. 

One of my favorite coming of age films is The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and as a queer woman of color, my identity could not be more different from than that of the protagonist Charlie. However, I fundamentally understood him. I understood the lostness, uncertainty, and fear associated with his high school experience. I understood his desire to be a part of something that matters. I understood his contempt for every part of himself that makes him different. 

I, along with many other minority youth, have had to learn to see ourselves in, “straight, white, middle-class” stories, due to the lack of authentic representation of ourselves and our communities in coming of age films. However, when the roles are reversed, white audiences aren't able to do the same, because they are conditioned to seeing themselves, and their stories, on screen. So, we have thousands and thousands of versions of the same exact film for the same exact audience.

As soon as a filmmaker has the courage to tell a truly new and different story on screen, we experience this very phenomenon, whereby the “default audience”, (consisting of predominantly white, straight, cisgender, and middle or upper-class individuals), cannot find an immediate connection with the film, so they reject it - or at least devalue it - without further thought.

We’ve come to think of diversity in the film industry as a one-time affair; we get one great film with holistic and well-rounded representation a year, and we think it’s enough. This is such a loss. I’ve come to believe that through more frequent and rigorous exposure to stories different from our own, we can develop the capacity to empathize more deeply, and to see ourselves through a broader lens.

I see the utmost potential in a pursuit of the ability to develop our opinions on cinema which appears terrifyingly avant-garde, with more thought and patience. It is a truly powerful gift to see a work of art for both what it is, and what it could be. As consumers of film work to consciously and critically devour art, we further our perspectives on what it means for each of us to exist in this society. Through that realization, we can become more adept at seeing each other as exactly who we are, in all our complexity.