It’s 1976 in San Francisco and Minnie Goetze is 15 years old, artistically inclined, full of feelings and interested in sex. She’s a fictional character. But in some ways she is every girl who ever kept a diary, felt misunderstood, worried she’d never be loved and went looking for that love in all the wrong places.
The Diary of a Teenage Girl, opening tomorrow in San Francisco and starring Kristen Wiig, Alexander Skarsgård and newcomer Bel Powley, is a skillful adaptation of Phoebe Gloeckner’s semi-autobiographical “account in words and pictures” by writer and first-time director Marielle Heller.
“When I read it I was like, oh, boys must’ve felt this way when they read Catcher in the Rye,” Heller says. Gloeckner’s story and the film begin without preamble at Minnie’s first sexual experience. It’s the start of a dramatic and tumultuous affair with Monroe (Skarsgård), her mother’s 34-year-old boyfriend and, according to Minnie, “the handsomest man in the world.”
The main character’s typewritten diary in Gloeckner’s book translates on screen to cassette tape audio recordings, kept hidden in a box under the teenager’s bed. Minnie’s drawings bound off her sketchbook pages thanks to the work of animator Sara Gunnarsdottir, filling the movie with Aline Kominsky-esque animations of big-bottomed women and vertiginous San Francisco streets.
Minnie narrates the film with her vacillating emotions (she goes from “maybe I should kill myself” to “I should paint a picture” in 60 seconds flat), young-person logic (“school is essentially pointless”) and pitch-perfect humor. She cuts class, smokes weed, drops acid, goes to midnight screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, visits comic book stores and gazes out over a foggy Dolores Park, preoccupied with boys, men, love, sex and herself.