Greta Gerwig’s Lady Bird (2017) perfectly captures a universal truth: no one can get under your skin quite like your mother. At its core, the film isn’t just about Christine “Lady Bird” MacPherson’s rebellion or her coming-of-age struggles — it’s about her turbulent, painfully real relationship with her mother, Marion.
And by real, I mean really real. This isn’t the exaggerated soap opera version of mother-daughter drama where they scream at each other one moment and hug it out the next. Instead, it’s the kind of nuanced tension where love and frustration exist in equal measure — where a mother can hand-stitch a dress for her daughter but still passive-aggressively comment on how she should have picked a cheaper college.
Bickering Is a Love Language
From the get-go, Lady Bird and Marion are at odds. The film opens with them crying together in the car, only for their moment of connection to dissolve into an argument in record time — ending with Lady Bird launching herself out of the moving vehicle. Drama queen? Maybe. Relatable? Absolutely.
The push-pull of their relationship is masterfully portrayed throughout the film. When Lady Bird gets the silent treatment after annoying her mother (a punishment far worse than yelling), audiences everywhere feel that familiar, stomach-dropping guilt. And yet, even in their worst moments, the love is unmistakable. Lady Bird may roll her eyes at Marion’s constant criticism, but she’ll still defend her when someone else dares to call her mean. Because only she gets to complain about her mother, thank you very much.
Arguing, in its own strange way, is how Lady Bird and Marion express their affection.
Marion: The Overbearing Queen of Tough Love
Marion isn’t the type to dish out sentimental, gushy affection, but her love is woven into everything she does. She works extra shifts so Lady Bird can attend a “better” school, she picks up her crying daughter without asking questions, and she does write letters — letters she can’t quite bring herself to send, but which Lady Bird eventually finds, realising (too late) just how much her mother cares.
But let’s be honest — Marion also has a PhD in Mum Guilt. She masterfully makes Lady Bird feel bad for wanting more, for dreaming bigger, for not appreciating what she already has. And while that’s frustrating to watch, it’s also painfully human. Parents, after all, are just as flawed as their kids.
Generational Trauma, but Make It Subtle
One of the most poignant moments comes when Marion offhandedly reveals that her mother was an abusive alcoholic. Suddenly, her tough exterior makes sense — she’s trying to be better, even if she struggles to show it in the way Lady Bird wants. The film never shouts this message at you, but it lingers in the air, a quiet reminder of how love is often shaped by the past.
After all, parents are just as imperfect and human as their children.
The Bittersweet Goodbye
Ultimately, Lady Bird is about growing up and seeing your parents as people rather than just authority figures. It takes leaving home for Lady Bird to appreciate Marion fully. The final phone call — where she thanks her mother and acknowledges her love — isn’t a grand, tearful reconciliation. It’s simple, understated, and all the more powerful for it.
Because at the end of the day, no matter how much they fight, no matter how many times Lady Bird insists on being called Lady Bird (seriously, Marion, just go with it), their love is undeniable. It’s messy, complicated, and often infuriating — but it’s real. And that’s why Lady Bird hits home for so many of us.
