How Timothée Chalamet became the archetypal fuckboy in ‘Lady Bird’
The moment we’re introduced to Timothée Chalamet’s Kyle in Lady Bird is one that many viewers, especially young women, find themselves painfully relating to. Saoirse Ronan’s titular character stands in a crowded, dimly-lit room watching a local band play at a party. She is instantly captivated by the bass player, standing still, floppy-haired, mysterious. He’s got that stereotypical ‘cute’ look that commands attention, and at first glance, he seems so unbothered by performing that it’s easy to believe he genuinely doesn’t know how many people in the crowd are secretly admiring him.
Of course, he certainly does know; it’s all an act. We soon discover that Kyle is not the mysterious boy he presents himself to be, and Chalamet makes a scarily good impression of a pseudo-intellectual who knows his good looks will carry him through life. Kyle is next seen sitting outside of the coffee shop where Lady Bird begins working, reading a copy of The People’s History of the United States on a table outside and smoking a cigarette. It’s purposefully cliché, and moments like these are what makes Lady Bird so good.
Many of us can see ourselves in Lady Bird, who awkwardly peers out the window at Kyle and hesitantly emerges at the door to tell him she likes his band. He’s got untouchable energy; he might as well be holding a sign that says, ‘Don’t disturb me. I’m reading a very complex book you wouldn’t understand’, but it’s that mysterious allure that reels Lady Bird – and many of us – in. He’s subdued yet flirtatious in his response, commenting on the fact that it’s “weird” that she shakes his hand rather than the fact she’s just declared herself to be called ‘Lady Bird’.
He lingers a second when holding her hand, looking down at it and back up at her face with a wry smile, as though he can already see the damage he’s going to cause for the naivé protagonist. Yet, for Lady Bird, that smile is promising, suggesting a ‘what if’ between them. After a brief conversation, her boss emerges and says, “I’m not paying you to flirt”, and when Lady Bird insists she wasn’t, Kyle delivers a line that, depending on the viewer, elicits eye rolls or stomach butterflies: “I wish you had been”.
Chalamet masters the right facial expressions and vocal inflexions to make Kyle’s personality clear in just a short interaction. On the surface, his charm and appeal are there, but to most of us watching as adults, it’s easy to spot that he’s nothing more than an archetypal fuckboy – just one who knows how to dress well. We witness Lady Bird make this disheartening discovery after a series of interactions with Kyle, including her first sexual experience.
The encounter ends with Kyle revealing that he wasn’t a virgin like he said he was – he’s actually slept with “like six people”, much to Lady Bird’s sadness. She believes she’s shared a special experience with him, and when she realises that everything has just gone “wrong”, Kyle’s response is, of course, the words of a stereotypical fuckboy: “You’re deciding to be upset”.
In the end, Lady Bird walks away from Kyle after she realises that he’s no different to the popular rich kids he associates with. He shuns technology because he thinks the government is using our phones to spy on us, and he tries to live off of other people so as not to engage in capitalism, but in reality, he’s just a pseudo-intellectual rich layabout who treats women like dirt and only truly cares about himself. In freeing herself from Kyle, Lady Bird realises that she’s worth more than being messed around by boys who seem way cooler than they actually are. It’s a lesson that many of us come to learn, which makes Lady Bird such an endearing and relatable film.
