Girls | Uptown

In a quiet, devastating moment, Ray washes the glitter out of Molly’s hair. There is no score swelling. There is no hug. Just the sound of water and Fanning’s tiny hands working through Murphy’s knots. Ray says, "You know, when I was a little kid, my mom used to wash my hair."

Molly teaches Ray how to eat sugar cereal. Ray teaches Molly how to balance a checkbook. But the real exchange is deeper: Molly gives Ray permission to be scared, and Ray gives Molly permission to be sad. Their truce comes not during a montage, but in a scene where Ray screams, "You’re a grown-up! You’re supposed to fix it!" and Molly screams back, "I can’t! I’m not a grown-up!" No discussion of Uptown Girls is complete without the "Shampoo" scene. Having hit rock bottom, Molly takes a job as a birthday party entertainer (dressed in a vaguely disturbing butterfly costume). When the children reject her, she retreats to a bathroom. Ray follows. Uptown Girls

It is absurd. It is pathetic. It is transcendent. In a quiet, devastating moment, Ray washes the

The film’s genius is that it forces this "princess" to get a job. Watching Molly try to file papers or operate a copy machine is cringe-comedy gold, but watching her take a job as a nanny to a hypochondriac child is something else entirely: a collision of two equally broken psyches. If Molly is a hurricane of id, Ray (Dakota Fanning) is a fortress of superego. Dressed in beige corduroy and carrying a medical textbook for fun, Ray has OCD, a litany of imaginary illnesses, and a paralyzing fear of death. She has been forced to grow up because her parents are emotionally absent. Just the sound of water and Fanning’s tiny