Mia Siitonen

Before Lena Dunham and Greta Gerwig, there was Claudia Weill, whose 1978 debut feature film, Girlfriends, inspired the work of countless filmmakers and their seminal coming of age works; from Dunham’s Girls to Gerwig’s Frances Ha and Ladybird.

Telling the story of best friends and flatmates Anne and Susan as they navigate their twenties in New York, Girlfriends unabashedly affords its protagonists’ friendship the kind of time and attention that is usually reserved, both in cinema and society, for romantic relationships. Despite never receiving widespread critical acclaim, Girlfriends was pioneering at the time of its release for exactly this, and is widely recognised as being the first feature film to have female friendship as its central focus. Watching it today, its influence on the plethora of coming of age narratives in film and TV in recent years is clear, but it is also enduringly appealing in its own right, as an honest depiction of the joys, challenges and importance of friendship in times of change and uncertainty.

In its first ten minutes, Girlfriends subverts the familiar coming of age trope in which romantic love or marriage is prized as a fairytale ending. Instead, when Anne announces her engagement and decision to move out of their shared apartment, the moment is presented not as a narrative resolution, but as the story’s inciting incident. The emotional weight of the decision, and the grief for the girls’ friendship as they know it, are keenly felt, and are handled with the same tenderness and care as the fracturing of a romantic relationship would be.

The friends being sent off on diverging paths so abruptly feels particularly true to the twenty-something experience, but also allows the film to centre the emotional richness of platonic friendship whilst exploring all sorts of other themes – from career and creative ambition, to societal and familial pressure, to financial stress and fear of falling behind – from two polar perspectives.

Romantic relationships are valued and present throughout the film, but never idealised. Rather, they are one element in a broader, more nuanced portrayal of the girls’ lives. We see this most clearly through Susan’s hesitancy to eventually give up her apartment, symbolic of her hard fought independence, to move in with her boyfriend; and contrastingly as Anne grapples with holding onto her work and the sense of self that is inextricably tied to it, alongside marriage and motherhood.

Crucial to the film’s appeal is how innately likeable both of its protagonists are – as indeed are the entire cast of secondary characters. This is largely thanks to the strength of the dialogue in Vicki Polon’s screenplay, which is sharp, funny, and has a naturalistic ease to it which is endlessly watchable. A dry humour runs as an undercurrent through the film and is inclusive of all the characters, avoiding anyone being typecast as ‘bad’, or presented as unredeemable in their actions. Even in more questionable moments, when certain actions or choices invite doubt – Susan’s affair with a married rabbi, for instance – each character is shown to be emotionally nuanced and thoughtfully developed, and as an audience we are made to appreciate and understand their place in the girls’ lives.

Similarly, the film doesn’t draw on the stereotypical, self-deprecating humour that often characterises the ‘flawed’ protagonists of coming of age narratives. Instead both girls are keenly intelligent, drily funny, and speak unapologetically. This self-assuredness, even in moments of vulnerability, lends the film a kind of endearing awkwardness, which underscores its protagonists’ fallibility in a way that feels authentic and refreshing to watch. This is arguably at its best at the times in the film when Anne and Susan cannot understand each other’s choices, and the emotional distance between them feels the most pronounced. The strength of their friendship is clear from their refusal to be anything other than entirely honest with one another, and in these moments it is a shared sense of humour that tentatively holds them together, and keeps us, as the audience, invariably rooting for their success.

Ultimately, Girlfriends endures because of its authentic portrayal of friendship, reminding us that the most meaningful relationships in our lives may not align with traditional romantic narratives. The film masterfully captures the delicate balance between independence and intimacy, and it unquestionably deserves far more critical recognition than it has received.