Lars and the Real Girl: A Review

Lars is at once one of the more endearing and frustrating characters you can encounter in film. In the opening scenes of Lars and the Real Girl, we are introduced to a quiet and reserved guy who goes about life on the back row, making his way through his job, his church, his family, and what might pass for friendship without making too deep an impression. Because he offers so little, we get to know Lars primarily through the responses of others. We see his sister-in-law’s hunger to have him as a vital part of their family. We see the receptionist at work and the older ladies at church reach out to ask him about his life. We see the girl who shows obvious interest only to experience his awkward indifference. Taken together, we know little of Lars except that those he interacts with seem to like him, and so we can too.

With the character offered, we can let the squirming begin. His sister-in-law and brother are excited/bewildered when Lars shows up one night and says he has a new girlfriend and would like to bring her over for dinner and would like them to let her stay with them. Anticipating an exciting new chapter for the reclusive family member, they are shocked when he shows up with a life-size doll we had ordered off of the internet. They ran the gamut of emotions as they come to realize through the dinner that this is not a joke, and in fact Lars is fully convinced that she is real and is intent on cultivating a relationship with her.

The film navigates the awkwardness expertly. Lars is not interested in sex, and the chasteness in the relationship invites us to consider the nature of his delusion and his need for healing. We aren’t allowed to dismiss him, and in fact those that surround him refuse to. His family leads him to a psychologist, who convinces him of the need for them to meet weekly for his doll’s treatments. But as important as that relationship is, the key to Lars’ journey is the response from the community. His friends at work go along with the delusion, to allow him to engage socially in ways he has never done before. The church community embraces him and embraces her, finding a way to navigate the weirdness by emphasizing Lars’ place as a part of their family. His family feeds her, bathes her, dresses her, and goes to great length to incorporate her into their lives, all for the sake of reaching out Lars.

Over time, the community’s acceptance of the doll takes on comical dimensions. She eventually finds volunteer work in the community, and involvement that creates for her a life apart from Lars. While Lars has manufactured a relationship, the community essentially teaches him about the price of relationship, and the need to think unselfishly in our most precious relationships. While Lars created a relationship built around safety and control, he slowly comes to realize that relationships don’t function with that kind of control in mind.

For a film with a such a bizarre and often whimsical premise and beat, I was surprised to find how moved I was by its resolution. The community’s embrace of Lars and acceptance of the situation is tested in extreme ways, but the depth of character on display in their response was moving. Lars doesn’t experience a “Hollywood Healing” where everything is finally put together in his life, but he’s moved to a better place, and that movement is as gentle as the actions of those who served as its agents. We’re left with hope for his future, knowing that he has a remarkable community behind him.

Lars and the Real Girl was written and directed by two relative unknowns, Nancy Oliver and Craig Gillespie, but I hope the critical acclaim it has received invites more from them. I applaud their depiction of the church community, and find it an almost prophetic challenge to the real church. Can we be as accepting of the odd folks within our ranks? Is our church community the kind of place where broken people can walk through a gentle journey of healing? Lars is a remarkable picture of healing and the need for a community to embrace their broken people. At its best it offers a “gospel on display” that churches and Christians can and should find provoking as we reflect on our own community life, and of the powerful role that people play in each our healing journeys.