Why Friends with Money is as painfully relevant… | Little White Lies

In Praise Of

Why Friends with Mon­ey is as painful­ly rel­e­vant as ever

08 Apr 2016

Words by Nick Levine

Four women wearing ornate, flowing dresses and robes in earthy tones, standing together in an indoor setting.
Four women wearing ornate, flowing dresses and robes in earthy tones, standing together in an indoor setting.
Nicole Holofcener’s female-cen­tric com­e­dy asks what hap­pens when some­one falls out of their own social circle.

When it opened in cin­e­mas in April 2006, Friends with Mon­ey paint­ed a wit­ty and con­vinc­ing por­trait of how long­time bonds can be rocked by a grow­ing dis­par­i­ty in per­son­al spend­ing pow­er. Ten years lat­er, at a time when the wealth gap between mid­dle-income and upper-income fam­i­lies in the US is widen­ing, and the UK remains mired in aus­ter­i­ty, Nicole Holofcener’s film feels even more relatable.

Holofcener’s low-key com­e­dy-dra­ma revolves around four Los Ange­les women in their ear­ly for­ties who have been close for a sig­nif­i­cant but unspec­i­fied peri­od of time. Stay-at-home mom Fran­ny (Joan Cusack) is sus­tained styl­ish­ly by a size­able fam­i­ly trust fund. Jane (Frances McDor­mand) makes a decent liv­ing design­ing hideous­ly over­priced” floaty women’s cloth­ing. Chris­tine (Cather­ine Keen­er) is a TV screen­writer flush enough to be adding anoth­er storey to her already very com­fort­able home.

The black sheep of the clique is Olivia (Jen­nifer Anis­ton), the only one not to have mar­ried, who gave up her intol­er­a­ble” job as a teacher at an upscale San­ta Mon­i­ca school and now pays her bills by clean­ing for oth­er peo­ple. In one par­tic­u­lar­ly telling scene, we see Olivia schlep­ping round depart­ment store beau­ty coun­ters col­lect­ing free sam­ples of a fan­cy face cream. It’s a lux­u­ry prod­uct her friends would shell out for with­out hesitation.

Holofcener, whose sub­se­quent cred­its include the charm­ing 2013 rom-com Enough Said, is obvi­ous­ly far too smart to sug­gest that mon­ey can buy hap­pi­ness, or to insin­u­ate the trite oppo­site. If Fran­ny seems to be the most con­tent of the four women, and is cer­tain­ly the most laid-back, it’s part­ly because she and her hus­band nev­er have to wor­ry about what they spend. Though she gen­tly ques­tions him when he buys their young daugh­ter need­less­ly expen­sive shoes that she’ll soon grow out of, she has no need to push the issue into a full-scale row. Mean­while, Chris­tine and Jane each have prob­lems that can’t be solved by cash: the former’s hus­band is cold and crit­i­cal; the latter’s is more affec­tion­ate, but very prob­a­bly gay.

Nat­u­ral­ly, Olivia is the most both­ered about mon­ey because she has so much less of it. How­ev­er, her evi­dent low self-esteem can’t sim­ply be explained away because she hap­pens to be in a low­er tax brack­et. She’s still hor­ri­bly hung up on a mar­ried man she had a brief affair with, and often cold-calls his home when she gets stoned. She hasn’t found her call­ing in life either. After she becomes sex­u­al­ly involved with Franny’s douchey but finan­cial­ly suc­cess­ful per­son­al train­er (Scott Caan), she asks her friend for mon­ey so she can take a per­son­al train­er course her­self. But you’re the only one of my friends who doesn’t exer­cise,” Fran­ny replies, under­stand­ably confused.

Friends with Mon­ey inten­si­fies from sharp to sting­ing when Holofcener high­lights how Olivia’s friends react to her reduced sta­tus. When she brings a some­what scruffy-look­ing date to a plush black tie din­ner, Jane’s hus­band is relieved to dis­cov­er that the jack­et the man’s wear­ing is actu­al­ly cash­mere. In the film’s best scene, Franny’s hus­band asks his wife if she would still be friends with Olivia if they met now. Her response is harsh but hon­est: Prob­a­bly not.” It’s a painful­ly real moment that will res­onate with any­one who’s ever drift­ed apart from an old friend because they sim­ply don’t have any­thing in com­mon any more.

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