Because I Said So
Directed by Michael Lehmann
Daphne Wilder, the name of Because I Said So’s heroine, is perfect for a Diane Keaton character. Four short syllables and the suggestion of quixotic boldness. Daphne’s a middle-aged, widowed mother of three grown daughters with her own catering business in Los Angeles. Her hair is drab-gray, but she is vivacious about work and the unmarried status of her youngest daughter Milly (Mandy Moore).
What certifies Because I Said So as a Diane Keaton film—and thus, something special—is the fact that this premise does not turn the mother into a nag. Sure, there’s the familiar comedy of filial aggravation: Milly hates how Daphne plays cupid, interfering in dates with Gabriel Macht and Tom Everett Scott. But the film is at least 50 percent concerned with Daphne’s fixation—and without any Freudian note of jealousy or repression. Despite its generation-gap premise, Because I Said So illustrates modern female tensions in ways that tie age groups together (outwitting what critics praise as Sofia Coppola’s “girliness”).
Each family member represents a different stage of womanhood with an unusual emphasis on sexual consciousness. As the girls discuss men and dating in a clique with their mother, their candor emanates from examples of femininity that Keaton herself has pioneered on screen. Daphne’s daughters are like re-embodiments of past Keaton roles: Psychologist Maggie (Laura Graham) recalls the brainy urbanite of Manhattan. Mae (Piper Perabo) evokes Keaton’s sisterly warmth in Crimes of the Heart. And Moore’s Milly, forced to choose between two men, dithers flirtatiously almost like Annie Hall reborn.
Keaton’s post-feminist consciousness takes Because I Said So out of the realm of a chick flick Wedding Crashers. Where Meryl Streep’s meddling mother in Primer merely stylized the old stereotype Jewish yenta for the new millennium, Daphne goes deep. Keaton unearths the girl inside the woman; she pals around with her daughters, but in one remarkable scene, her heart-to-heart with Milly exposes a vulnerability that suggests special commitment to this particular child. “Don’t tell your sisters I asked,” Daphne sweetly confides.
It’s startling that Keaton’s early career-girl roles have resulted in her recent extraordinary mother performances. From The Other Daughter to The Family Stone, Keaton has specialized in playing mothers who remember the anxieties and independence of their single youth. Director Michael Lehmann pushes Keaton into slapstick pratfalls that crudely disguise the poignancy of her portrayal here. But when Daphne objects to a 60th birthday party, asking “Why are we celebrating my descent into oblivion?” Keaton shows comic richness that makes such a line sound like her own natural exclamation. It is simultaneously querulous, baffled and right to the point. This combination of charm and tenacity is what distinguishes Keaton as a movie star and allows her to portray characters who are both recognizable and original.
When Daphne cries “Motherhood, it’s the most impossible love!” Keaton’s flushed spontaneity is impressive—she serves Karen Leigh Hopkins and Jessie Nelson’s ramshackle-yet-informed screenplay with finesse. No actress this year will have a moment that seems more inspired. What Keaton reveals about love and frustration makes Daphne the mother of us all.
