Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret (Review) – a triumphant adaptation of a loved classic

Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret arrives in UK cinemas on May 19th.

Judy Blume’s novel Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret has been loved by audiences for decades. Described as heartfelt and earnest, its depictions of puberty and life continue to resonate to this day. It is, therefore, surprising that it has taken so long for a film adaptation to emerge, but it has been worth the wait. This is 2023’s first serious contender for the year’s best film.

Set in 1970, Abby Ryder Fortson plays the titular Margaret. After a reluctant move to New Jersey from New York City, Margaret is nervous about starting a new school and making new friends. Furthermore, she is about to hit puberty and experience all the baggage it brings. She regularly prays to God about her anxieties, yet even this is complicated. Margaret’s mother, Barbara (Rachel McAdams), is Christian, while her father, Herb (Benny Safdie), is Jewish. They have never imposed their religion or belief onto Margaret, yet Margaret feels out of place, and now that she’s in a new environment, Margaret’s sense of confusion is only growing.

At its core, this is a story about change and belonging. Childhood can be a messy, cruel landscape, even when one has all the joys of a loving family and friends. Writer-director Kelly Fremon Craig does not shy away from how mercurial this phase of life is. She recognises how scary the biological and psychological changes are and how lonely it can be when you feel you don’t belong. Margaret frequently replicates the odd behaviours of her new friend Nancy (Elle Graham), believing this will help her fit in. Yet Craig’s filmmaking is ingrained with such affinity that we find ourselves swept up in Margaret’s experiences, as if we’ve returned to our own angsty childhoods and rediscovered some overlooked joy. It’s brutally honest but also deeply sincere.

Kathy Bates as Sylvia Simon and Abby Ryder Fortson as Margaret Simon in Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. Photo Credit: Dana Hawley

Aesthetically this film looks terrific. It boasts gorgeous production design, dazzling period costumes, and evocative cinematography with a slightly grainy quality creating the feeling of a memory. The way the film depicts puberty and its consequences in tandem with how we seek answers, be it in religion or life as a whole, is so genuine that it induces tears, laughter, and tears of laughter. One running gag sees Margaret and her new friends creating a chant to try and grow bigger breasts. Moments like this capture a childhood naivety that it is impossible not to find amusing. Equally, the editing is masterful. The smash cuts, idiosyncratic visuals, and the execution of comedic setup and payoff, such as the initial mature appeal of bras to the irritating reality of them, lend such sharpness to the humour that it could be labelled a safety hazard. But moments such as the breast chant are not merely amusing gags.

The film uses comedy as an opening that enables us to become engrossed in the characters’ authentic, often poignantly nuanced, emotions and situations. Margaret is a growing child who fears the religious entity she confides her hopes and fears in may not exist – an outcome that would add despair to her loneliness. Margaret’s parents exude happiness, yet they still question their every choice. Nancy is a control freak who needs to feel superior to her friends. Yet, her bizarre claims and belittling actions mask harrowing insecurity – traits that culminate in her reaction to her first period, a rare moment that does not invite laughter.

Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret is a resoundingly non-judgemental film with a deep understanding of the struggles of its characters and girls everywhere. That some of the subjects depicted, such as menstruation, are still considered taboo by certain groups is ridiculous, given that the film is about as chaste as you can get. Thankfully, the film does not bother with unnecessary justifications. Instead, it hones in on the unique intricacies and compelling choices that generate Margaret’s arc, in which female puberty and religious soul-searching play prominent roles. Here the explorations are thorough, the findings are sage, and the emotional significance is earned.

Rachel McAdams as Barbara Dimon and Abby Ryder Fortson as Margaret Simon in Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. Photo Credit: Dana Hawley

The actors embody the inherent warmth of Craig’s script and direction, projecting it tenfold. Abby Ryder Fortson is as charismatic as she is natural, all the while capturing the complexities and emotional layers of her endlessly compassionate character. Benny Safdie demonstrates his playful acting chops through his character’s goofy appeal but practical reasoning. While Kathy Bates and Echo Kellum also stand out with humorously blunt and supportive performances as Margaret’s grandmother and teacher, Mr Benedict. However, it is Rachel McAdams’ Barbara who needs to be immediately inducted into the movie Mum’s Hall of Fame. Her openness and unwavering love for her child, which runs far deeper than mere maternal affection, is one of the film’s greatest highlights. The portrayal of the mother-daughter relationship shown is one of tolerance, kindness and mutual learning – sentiments that the film proudly promotes.

Craig’s last film, The Edge of Seventeen, is one of the best, most empathetic comedies of the past ten years. Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret might be even better. Its impeccable filmmaking and hilarious entertainment factor are topped only by its remarkable lack of cynicism and boundless love for the characters. That it has been given a PG certificate and is thus accessible to children who are yet to experience the human changes, it depicts lends a refreshing urgency to its appeal. A mere review such as this one cannot articulately do justice to just how brilliant this film is. Funny, sincere, understanding, and joyously honest, it is a triumphant adaptation of a beloved novel and a film destined to become a timeless classic in its own right.

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