"It is true that the movie is perhaps my most politically-charged. The story is thrust into motion by the idea of what do you do when your 13 year old daughter comes home pregnant. And not only is she pregnant, but she wants to keep the baby"
About this Quote
Solondz frames politics the way he usually does: not as slogans, but as a domestic crisis that detonates every polite assumption in the room. The “perhaps” is doing sly work here, a hedge that doubles as a dare. He’s claiming political intent while also mocking the expectation that politics must arrive wearing a campaign button. In his world, the political is what happens when private life becomes uncontainable.
The setup is bluntly engineered for maximum cultural static: a 13-year-old, pregnancy, and the additional provocation that she “wants to keep the baby.” That last clause is the twist of the knife. It yanks the situation away from the familiar binaries of victimhood and rescue, forcing the audience to confront agency in the most unsettling place to grant it. Solondz isn’t asking “what should the law be”; he’s asking who gets to narrate a girl’s body, and how quickly “choice” turns into a weapon when the chooser is a child.
His phrasing also exposes the coercive scripts that flare up around reproduction. The adult world wants a problem it can solve cleanly: punishment, abortion, adoption, redemption. The daughter’s desire breaks the genre. Suddenly everyone else’s politics are on trial: the parents’ panic, the community’s moral bookkeeping, the viewer’s own craving for an acceptable outcome.
Context matters: Solondz, coming out of late-90s/early-2000s American culture wars, specialized in suburban normalcy as a pressure cooker. He signals that the film’s politics aren’t policy-heavy; they’re nerve-heavy. The charge comes from making the unthinkable feel ordinary enough to recognize, and impossible enough to resolve.
The setup is bluntly engineered for maximum cultural static: a 13-year-old, pregnancy, and the additional provocation that she “wants to keep the baby.” That last clause is the twist of the knife. It yanks the situation away from the familiar binaries of victimhood and rescue, forcing the audience to confront agency in the most unsettling place to grant it. Solondz isn’t asking “what should the law be”; he’s asking who gets to narrate a girl’s body, and how quickly “choice” turns into a weapon when the chooser is a child.
His phrasing also exposes the coercive scripts that flare up around reproduction. The adult world wants a problem it can solve cleanly: punishment, abortion, adoption, redemption. The daughter’s desire breaks the genre. Suddenly everyone else’s politics are on trial: the parents’ panic, the community’s moral bookkeeping, the viewer’s own craving for an acceptable outcome.
Context matters: Solondz, coming out of late-90s/early-2000s American culture wars, specialized in suburban normalcy as a pressure cooker. He signals that the film’s politics aren’t policy-heavy; they’re nerve-heavy. The charge comes from making the unthinkable feel ordinary enough to recognize, and impossible enough to resolve.
Quote Details
| Topic | Daughter |
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