In keeping with certain themes about New York–1) you’ll never make enough friends for anyone to notice your absence quickly enough and 2) it’s like shooting fish in a barrel to find fresh off the boat ingenues to prey on–Neil Jordan’s latest film, Greta, at long last makes the city appear as sadistic as it ought to be.
A town where dreams are broken with far more rapidity than they’re ever established, New York is a magnet to “soft options” like Frances McCullen (Chloë Grace Moretz), who already have the built-in cushion of a loft in TriBeCa being paid for. In this case, it’s thanks to her roommate and best friend, Erica Penn (Maika Monroe), having a daddy generous enough to want them to “break in” the apartment. Yet, surprisingly, this doesn’t mean Frances is spoiled or a do-nothing, at the very least commuting most days on the 6 (J. Lo-style) to the Upper East Side where she is a server at a quintessentially posh and overpriced restaurant. It is on this route that Greta Hideg (Isabelle Huppert) wields her emotional intelligence to discern her next mark, attracting a vulnerable, new to the city archetype to her “abandoned” handbag, featuring her ID, a fistful of cash and enough other personal effects to make its return seem urgent. Frances expectedly takes the bait, trying at first to return it to the Lost and Found area of the MTA, but, as any New York resident knows, that’s as good as throwing it on the subway tracks.
With no one at the post to take possession of the bag, Frances foolishly returns it herself, embarking upon an unwanted codependent journey that she is at first willingly a part of. In fact, Greta feels like the maternal presence that’s been missing from her life for the past year, for that’s how long it’s been since her own mother has died, leaving a parental void as her father, Chris (Colm Feore), dives headfirst into his work as opposed to focusing on grieving. Erica, meanwhile, sees Frances’ escalating relationship with Greta as pathetic, particularly after she helps Greta pick out a dog named Morton at the shelter. But Frances persists, committed to the dynamic as she mistakenly tells Greta, “I’m like chewing gum, I tend to stick around.” A line that will be thrown back in her face very literally soon enough.
As Frances searches for candles for their elegantly prepared dinner at Greta’s house, she comes across the wrong cabinet–the one filled with dozens of the same exact bag containing Greta’s ID. Horrified and disturbed, Frances does her best to get through the entire dinner without acting as though she’s been tipped off to Greta’s insanity. But her anxiety gets the better of her, prompting her to leave before dessert in a tense moment that feels as though she might not make it out. Upon telling Erica her discovery of Greta’s predatory fetish for motherless girls, she soon cuts Greta off completely, refusing to answer her many calls.
When Greta shows up to the restaurant, Frances firmly announces she never wants to see her again. It is this moment that Greta uses to justify going full-tilt batshit. Shedding all former pretenses of any sense of “what’s normal” decorum. This brings to light another strong point regarding New York: when you are the subject of obsessive stalker behavior, the police really don’t give a shit (see also: You). Sure, you can file a complaint, but as Frances is told by the cop who comes to see for himself that Greta is eerily standing outside of the restaurant with no intention of moving, one will be expected to “just ignore” it. As though the sight of a Hungarian woman posing as a French one glaring at you while you do your job is the sort of thing that can be ignored.
Of course, Greta’s obsessiveness is not without motive, one supposes. She, too, had a daughter, presumably one who left for Paris and has been studying piano at the conservatory there. Piano is a big thing throughout the film–particularly Chopin. Greta’s sense of abandonment is thus transferred to all these other girls she preys upon, always choosing the perfect victim to leave the bag behind for. Worse than a Single White Female phenomenon because at least Hedy (Jennifer Jason Leigh) was Allie’s (Bridget Fonda) peer–which somehow makes it less creepy than the Greta scenario–Frances is stalked by a woman who keeps insisting that “everyone needs a friend.” But does everybody deserve one? Clearly not, as Greta proves the decidedly one-sided nature of their rapport, her feeding off of Frances’ erstwhile innocence and neediness to gather strength from the weakening loss of her own biological daughter.
As Huppert proves time and time again throughout the movie, there is no better person to play this psychotic role–from scenes of her calmly reattaching her own finger to dancing in front of a corpse to the tune of Chopin. No, no, to be sure, Anthony Hopkins has nothing on this psycho. Her controlled performance–never showing any sign of panic even at the occasional prospects of losing her literal grasp on Frances–is part of what builds so much tension and teeth-clenching as the narrative progresses, a slow build toward a gentle crescendo that leaves plenty of opportunity for a sequel (and certainly lends the Eiffel Tower its fair share of ominousness).
And in contrast to Greta Garbo saying, “I want to be alone,” this particular Greta cannot function as such. For it would mean having no one to inflict her highly damaged neurosis on. And one could say that’s a large part of the criteria for living in New York: constantly wielding your crazy on other people as a means to get a little bit of it out of yourself–you know, so it’s not so fully concentrated.
