Everything about Shiva Baby feels so confident and well-constructed that it’s difficult to believe this is Seligman’s debut. Shiva Baby is playing in UK cinemas for one night only on June 9 and will stream on MUBI from June 11.
The lifeforce of film is new visions and voices. With every generation, there is a gradual rise and consequent explosion of talent, decorating the now-ancient walls of cinemas with a bold, creative flair. Sometimes these new visionaries emerge gradually, a slow-burning talent as they work their way to their groundbreaking piece that sets them apart from all others. Then there are those who explode onto the scene with such a dazzling debut that you’re blinded by it, unable to think of anything else other than them. Emma Seligman is one of those explosive visionaries.
Seligman takes us on a day-in-the-life of sugar baby Danielle (Rachel Sennott), fresh from an appointment with her client to the shiva of a mother’s husband’s nephew’s friend once-removed; it’s one of those family occasions when everyone gets together, but only about 10 people actually know what’s happening. Soon after arriving, things begin to go haywire for Danielle, as her client, Max (Danny Defarrari), is also in attendance at the funeral, alongside her old flame Maya (Molly Gordon).
Once Seligman begins to pick up the pace, she does not slow down. This gigantic shiva is also a claustrophobic cage, as Seligman’s camera pushes up against Danielle, magnifying her every nervous tick and sweat bead, as she’s unable to escape both the overbearing family members and our watchful eye. It’s as if a cinematic weight is anchored to her, one she’s unable to detach from, forced to navigate us through the familial clusterfuck of body critiques, future plan inquiries, and repetitive small talk.
This cinematographic interrogation is bolstered by the precise intersection between framing and colouring, with orange flames trickling up the wall, surrounding Danielle, as though being slowly cooked alive by the overwhelming stress of keeping everything together. The mind-numbing blurs of agitation and stress-induced confusion abound, constantly seeping back into Danielle’s vision as her problems begin to form into a singular monolith, leaning on her more and more, sapping her of her energy. With an Uncut Gems twitchiness that never stops, there’s an anxious heartbeat to Shiva Baby, pulsating louder and louder, blood flowing as fast as Danielle’s wine into her cup as her situation heats up more and more through interferences from her parents, Maya and Max all colliding into a social pressure cooker, moments from popping its lid.
Sennott has incredible chemistry with everyone she engages with, whether it’s her fiercely awkward, bisexual energy with Maya or her chaotic back-and-forth with Max. She’s able to say so much with a simple casting of her gaze, or the ever-so-subtle anxious movements as her private and family life begin to merge into one, threatening the knife-edge she’s constantly walking upon throughout, slipping momentarily and gaining a little cut or graze along the way.
Pulling off such deadpan humour whilst maintaining a strong sense of endearment is tricky, yet Sennott seems to make it look like it’s second-nature. It’s an excellent marriage of skilled performance and intelligent characterisation, as Danielle is, in ways, a cypher for Seligman, being both Jewish and bisexual herself. It’s also great to see some genuine bisexual representation – being bisexual myself, I can relate to the awkward flirty fighting that Maya and Danielle engage in, both too stubborn to admit their feelings toward one another unless feeling absolutely forced to; the two are so charming in their refusal to acknowledge the white-hot flame is still very much burning in them both.
Everything about Shiva Baby feels so confident and well-constructed that it’s difficult to believe this is Seligman’s debut. The orchestral strings, combined with her claustrophobic camera work, feel like such creative masterstrokes. Seligman’s ultra-fine directing makes filmmaking look deceptively easy. It’s a vivid depiction of the generational tone of the current zeitgeist, with its perfect blend of self-deprecation and creeping anxiety, as the worlds of teenagehood and adulthood collide in an impossibly messy collision.
Danielle’s attempt at premature adulthood is a comforting acknowledgement that trying so hard to be adult and staying on top of everything can be so fucking exhausting, and sometimes you just need to realise what you actually need, and who you actually need. To create such a heart-poundingly riotous, wickedly funny film like this demonstrates that Emma Seligman is here, she’s not fucking around, and she is a director to watch.
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