DIANE: The Everywoman Writ Large

What happens when the mundane becomes the profound?

Every movie has leads and supporting characters. Major plot points and minor ones. Mary Kay Place has made a career off of working in the background, helping others to tell their stories. In Diane, she takes center stage.

You know Place even if you don’t know her. She’s the best friend, the mom, the nosy neighbor. She’s, in a way, perfect, but never primary. Similarly, mothers are almost universally used in support, nagging or helping their progeny to advance their own agenda. Diane flips both of these on their head.

Place does play a mom. A very “mom” mom. She’s one of those women who keep communities–this one in Upstate New York–running by volunteering and helping out with every cause. She visits people in the hospital. She worries about her son.

Her son.

Here’s where the story gets real and gets really intense. Brian (Jake Lacy) is an obvious addict. He’s far gone, and Diane can see it plainly. Her visits to his place always end badly, but she keeps at it, seeing her little boy inside the struggling and petulant man. This is a depiction of addiction and family dynamics that’s up there with the best in cinema.

That’s not the only place Diane faces hardship. Her cousin is dying in the hospital, and the entire extended family feels the loss to come. Diane takes it especially hard because of how close they are as well as some unresolved tension in their relationship.

While Diane starts off as a chronicle of a time and a place, the film eventually moves forward in Diane’s life, showing how a life lived will mean loss and more loss. As ever, Diane persists.

The most bold turn in the film is the quasi-redemption of Brian. He cleans up, but ends up becoming extremely religious. His proselytizing and Bible-thumping is certainly clear, but it doesn’t ring true. Evangelicals can be as annoying as anyone, but the way Brian and his new wife talk and act feels written by someone far outside of that tradition rather than one more familiar with it. It’s a small gripe, though, and doesn’t affect the final result.

By film’s end, we have followed Diane all the way through her life. Along the way, she discovers a life of the mind, with journaling and contemplation that would normally never be depicted as the foray of housewife. With Diane, director Kent Jones shows that this character type can be as rich as any other, with stories full of joy, pain, and everything in between. It’s the perfect antidote to typical Hollywood fare.

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