All of which makes it interesting that Safety Not Guaranteed — a road-trip rom-com with a light sci-fi spin that screenwriter Derek Connolly wrote with Plaza in mind — is both the first big starring role for Plaza and also the first movie to acknowledge her hotness. Seattle Magazine reporter Jeff (Jake Johnson), on assignment in a sleepy Pacific Northwest coastal town to write an exposé on a guy who put out a classified ad searching for a time-travel partner, suggests that his intern Darius (Plaza) use the fact that she's a "beautiful woman" to get the story. A typical Plaza tough cookie partly softened by her pre-opening-credits admission that her sarcastic façade can be traced back to the death of her mom, Darius calls Jeff out for "dangling my vagina out there like bait." And then she does what she's told, using her feminine wiles to gain entry into the weird world of Kenneth (Mark Duplass), a hermit loner who claims to have built a time machine. Kenneth puts Darius through a lengthy training process in advance of a promised trip back in time to save his lost love; Darius faithfully reports every wrinkle of her adventures to Jeff and fellow intern Arnau (Karan Soni), even as she finds herself falling for the probable crackpot/possible genius.
Darius might be self-aware that her body is being used as a lure, but she doesn't really fight it. Similarly, can a movie in which two people form a genuine intimate connection while lying to each other avoid falling into conventional traps?
But there's a lot of good here too. Plaza and Duplass have an easy, charming chemistry, and plot contrivances aside, as indie-film nerd-mances go, this one is genuinely sweet. When it comes to complete fallacies propagated by relationship fiction, the "surprise" romantic victory of the stunning wallflower is, like, top five worst, but Plaza's portrayal of a woman falling in love with a man who is hopelessly in love with his memory of another woman has believable tension. As a DIY answer to the Spielberg generation's nostalgia for movie magic, the film's fully earnest, fantastic climax beats Super 8 at its own game for a fraction of the cost.
Like Safety Not Guaranteed, Lola Versus seems to want to remix the raw material of an indie romance to suit the talents of an atypical leading lady. Greta Gerwig plays the titular 29-year-old grad student whose boho Manhattan life tailspins after she's dumped by dream dude Luke (Joel Kinnaman) right before their wedding. Smart but spacy, naturally luminous and yet legitimately awkward, Gerwig is perfectly cast as a manic mess whose coping mechanisms include juice cleansing one week and double-fisting 40s the next; impulsively rebounding with a best male friend (Hamish Linklater), then spontaneously showing up at the ex's loft to beg for weed.
Cramming a proposal, frenzied wedding planning, and a sudden breakup into its first few minutes, the film lurches as unevenly as its heroine. But as it gets further and further away from the boilerplate fantasy squashed in its first few minutes, Lola Versus gets looser and weirder. About halfway through, a hilariously cringeworthy sex scene (set to Ani DiFranco, no less) brings director Daryl Wein's gambit into focus: More than subverting or satirizing the modern lady-in-crisis movie, he has made a big, broad, stoner comedy, shot and performed naturalistically, from a woman's point of view. Narratively, it's not a huge shock where the film ultimately goes, but there are a number of fun surprises along the way.
Lola is ultimately uninterested in pulling off the magic trick of a sincere romance, which is to get us to forget the construction of what we're watching and momentarily, at least, believe in the possibility of love between the people onscreen. Ironically, in practice, this intentionally meta movie feels less subversive than Safety Not Guaranteed. Both films assume their viewer is too cool for rom-com school; Lola feeds on that presumed cynicism, while Safety flips it on its head, ambitiously aiming for a transcendence that it almost achieves.