waitress

Looking back on this still-young century makes clear that 2007 was a major time for cinematic happenings — and, on the basis of this retrospective, one we’re not quite through with ten years on. One’s mind might quickly flash to a few big titles that will be represented, but it is the plurality of both festival and theatrical premieres that truly surprises: late works from old masters, debuts from filmmakers who’ve since become some of our most-respected artists, and mid-career turning points that didn’t necessarily announce themselves as such at the time. Join us as an assembled team, many of whom were coming of age that year, takes on their favorites.

Waitress begins with three women in a bathroom. Jenna (Keri Russell), Dawn (Adrienne Shelly), and Becky (Cheryl Hines) are huddled around Jenna’s pregnancy test in their diner uniforms, praying for a negative result. Jenna hates her husband, and, with the appearance of a small pink line, the door leading out of her marriage closes. It’s appropriate that we meet these women in the bathroom, the place where secrets are told and gossip is passed, where deep breaths are taken in solitude and cold water is splashed on faces. They revisit the bathroom often to put on makeup and have serious conversations, this small room with its tacky wallpaper acting as a haven for the three. A man’s voice calls out for them to get back to work, and the real world continues spinning.

The great strength of this film is that it takes “women’s work” and grants it dignity. Jenna’s passion is baking pies, and the only times she seems calm are when she’s above a mixing bowl. She fantasizes a pie for every situation; when she closes her eyes to visualize them, we see overhead shots of hands filling pie crusts with her various inspirations. These dreamy interludes elevate her baking to something close to alchemy. The pies are luscious, beautiful, and spoken of with quiet awe, the way one would describe a particularly moving artwork. Baking is no longer just a thing your grandma does in the mysterious cave of her kitchen, but a remarkable skill that is serene and sensual. Waitressing itself is, if not exactly elevated to an art form, shown as a thankless task performed by women resigned to serving others. Exhausting yourself with a smile on your face is an inevitability, an expectation. Work and personal issues are taken in stride, and sadness is a given.

But within this endless cycle there is room for hope, and because their place in the world is an accepted fact, they are able to remain optimistic. They keep alive a dream of happiness without feeling entitled to it. They navigate the world of men with only each other for support, with casual yet loving moments together the times we see them relax with the freedom to be themselves. Men are not all villains; there are moments of sympathy and kindness alongside displays of insensitive nastiness. Each male character is a somewhat broadly drawn stereotype of southern Americana, but all are remarkably human. The greasy jerk who manages the diner gives a short poignant speech about happiness, the kooky old man is more tender-hearted than he appears, the obnoxious nerd has an affinity for romantic poetry. It isn’t that they’re bad people, but that they can’t understand.

The world of Waitress is, for all the dark corners it investigates, full of vibrant colors and wonderfully funny inhabitants. A sentimental tale that could have turned saccharine or melodramatic at any moment, it’s the sharp writing and delightful performances that keep us grounded. Jenna views her pregnancy as an inconvenience and the baby as an invader rather than a person. We can’t blame her, for the father is a brute who manipulates his wife with affection and smothers her with jealousy and need. Her friends give her a diary in which to write letters to the baby, and her “Dear Baby” entries, presented as a voiceover, are a frank insight into her fears and frustrations. Such a picture of motherhood, like the glimpse this film gives into low-paying service jobs, is one rarely seen. Motherhood has, of course, traditionally been treated as the pinnacle of a woman’s life, and though attitudes have changed drastically in the last few decades, we are still reluctant to admit the complications. We don’t want to hear about anything but joy or admirable martyrdom, and women are reluctant to admit to anything less — even to other women.

The reality is that there is doubt and anger and deep sadness tangled up with the joy, and the willingness to present these aspects of motherhood in a way that is both honest and amusing gives Waitress a rare and refreshing depth. So Jenna, like an exhausted animal in a cage, seems to have given up on any hope of escape. Something in her begins to change when she meets and has an affair with her new doctor, Jim (Nathan Fillion), and the affection he has for her is like a crack in a prison wall. An image of fleeing is always right in front of her, but barely out of reach. In Jim she finds the satisfaction of kindness with no expectation of repayment. The affair shows her what it’s like to be desired and listened to, but still she feels hopeless to get out of her marriage. When Jenna gives birth near film’s end, she has an instant change of heart upon seeing her newborn daughter’s face. It has to be acknowledged that, in reality, this doesn’t always happen. A woman who doesn’t want a child will not automatically change her mind when it is born, and she is not a lesser person for it.

For Jenna in Waitress, however, the synchronization of heart and mind is a symbol of the way women love and support each other. Though it’s her doctor that awakens a spark inside her and opens up the option that she is worth being appreciated, it’s the birth of a daughter that gives Jenna the strength to change the course of her life. Writer-director Adrienne Shelly, before her life was tragically taken from her, presented women with a gift: she gives permission for mothers and waitresses and bakers and wives to find pride in what they do, and explores a way to find validation outside the approval of men. A pregnant woman still has needs and desires, a baker can be an artist, a simple waitress is still a person who dreams of adventure. Waitress is a little space in the world where tired women can visit and be comforted and understood.

Follow our complete retrospective on the best films of 2007.

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