Film history has been impacted by a number of Anglo female characters with various mental disturbances and obsessions. Bette Davis in Hush…Hush, Sweet Charlotte (1964). Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction (1987). Jennifer Jason Leigh in Single White Female (1992). On a socially observant level, at a time where mental health afflictions are spiking at an all-time global high, writer-director Christina Choe‘s Nancy (2018) is a welcomed contemporary character study of a depressed American Millennial who feels stuck.
Nancy Freeman, expertly portrayed by British actress Andrea Riseborough, is a thirtysomething Nor’easter who is a failing writer with a codependent relationship with her ailing mother Betty (Ann Dowd) who is stricken with Parkinson’s disease. Aside from a temp job at a dental clinic in a nondescript strip mall, her only other connections to lively beings are with her beloved ginger cat Paul, and her near-constant online interactions. Internet-addicted, yes, which is a glaring sign of the times that most in society would hesitate to label abnormal.
To garner empathy from others, Nancy creates a false representation of her life circumstances through her blog. One poor soul to fall for her lies is Jeb (John Leguizamo) who is actually experiencing a loss. When they set up a meeting, Nancy deceptively changes her appearance. In a bathroom mirror, with her almost ratty raven hair that’s so sad it must be a wig, Nancy is observed seductively applying dark red lipstick as if this is a romantic occasion. Her desire is clear in a warped way, but she knows she must stick to her false persona and present as dowdy.
The derangement of Nancy’s tall tales does not evoke sympathy, but pity and frustration from this viewer. At the dental clinic, she shows clearly photoshopped images of herself on vacation in North Korea. She manipulates the emotions of a man who is grieving a real loss. But when she herself finds her mother has died in her sleep, reality is a tailspin of grief and further isolation.
The codependency with mother is over. Nancy must find a replacement to feel a kinship. To feel human in a cynical world. So when she sees a TV news segment on aging parents whose daughter was kidnapped 30 years ago, Nancy readily believes that due to a supposedly non-existent birth certificate, and a resemblance, that her deceased mother kidnapped her.
After an awkward series of calls, Nancy packs up with Paul the cat in tow. She drives to Ellen (J. Smith-Cameron) and Leo’s (Steve Buscemi) home, a wonderfully vibrant spread in contrast to her disorganized, gloomy abode. Ellen and Leo are both well-off professionals: she, a comparative literature professor, and he, a psychologist.
Likely due to equal parts common sense and expertise, Leo is naturally skeptical that he is Nancy’s father. Wanting timely confirmation, Leo announces on day one, that a private investigator will be visiting the house to collect DNA and interview Nancy. A deep maternal yearning for her stolen daughter clouds Ellen’s judgement early on. She allows Nancy, a stranger with a cat that Leo is allergic to, to sleep in their home.
As time flies by, both Leo and Ellen build an emotional bond with Nancy despite inner reservations. The day will come when the DNA test results will be phoned in, and yet another potential dead end leading to heartbreak is a risk that these childless parents take to fill a deep void in their lives.
Nancy is a film about creating a life founded on an unethical imagination. A daughter who apparently never felt loved by her disadvantaged mother steeps herself into anger, settling into an isolative existence. Her only self-perceived power is to invent stories both in print and in her life. Hurting others in the process bites back, however. And that unexpected result sends this troubled, flawed woman to react in the same way that led to their home. A swift escape from reality.
