When playwright Radha Blank didn’t see people like her reflected on screen, she decided to take matters into her own hands, rather than waiting around to see a story like hers produced. Independent cinema tends to allow for this kind of intrepid risk, and while many such filmmakers tend to fade into obscurity after initially making an impression (especially when they’re making their debut), Blank’s work seems far too profound to not make a statement, and will undoubtedly position her as one of contemporary cinema’s most exciting new voices. The Forty-Year-Old Version is one of the most astounding directorial debuts of the past few years, a heartfelt comedy about finding your identity in a world that seems to feel the need to dictate what constitutes conventional. There are many ways to describe Blank – a free-spirited soul, a dedicated artist and a deeply talented creative force – but conventional is certainly not one of them. However, she does represent an entirely new generation of filmmakers who are going to define the next era in independent storytelling, with The Forty-Year-Old Version not feeling like a traditional debut, but rather an explosive emergence of a director who is going to certainly take the modern artistic world by storm, if she hasn’t already with this audacious work of unhinged genius. The promotion of this film was very fast to reference praise that indicated that this felt like something big, a moment that is going to revolutionize the cinematic form in its own way – and while this may seem hyperbolic, the experience of seeing what Blank does with this simple but layered premise clarifies exactly why the general perception is that she has instantly made a name for herself in an industry that is going to greatly benefit from her voice – so we should start listening now, since she’s got some profoundly important statements to make, as evident through this film.

Not since Spike Lee’s She’s Gotta Have It have we seen such a bold attempt to burst onto the scene – and while it may seem superficial to compare them (particularly since they’re comedies set in a Brooklyn feeling the effects of gentrification, and the first works by African-American filmmakers that use their own perspective as a guiding force to comment on a wider set of issues), they’re both works that touch on some very important themes, such as identity, the role of women (particularly women of colour) in the modern social and cultural sphere, and the perils of daring to be different, and standing up for even the smallest injustices, which are shown to fester into much bigger issues. Blank – while clearly making her influences known – doesn’t hesitate to make her authorial voice prominent, deviating from the cinematic predecessors she looked towards for inspiration just enough to establish her own vision, which creates a truly extraordinary combination of modern millennial angst, and classical narrative conventions, which are put together in stark, and often deeply unsettling ways. What is quite notable, albeit not surprising in the least, is that The Forty-Year-Old Version is not nearly as slight or tame as it would appear at first glance. This is a work inspired by the anger of an artist who had a story to tell, and the passion to get it done. Drawing influence from her own life (to the point where the character Blank plays bears her name), the director forms a fascinating work that carries the clear signals of being a passion project, since Blank handcrafted nearly every aspect of this film, with a small cast and crew of dedicated collaborators, and in the process managed to convey a deep sense of existential anguish that not many works produced in a modern context are able to effectively portray, nevermind with the kind of vulnerability shown here.

The story of the down-on-their-luck artist isn’t one new to cinema, particularly in the realm of independent cinema. In this regard, The Forty-Year-Old Version isn’t all that unique, since so much of it seems to be inspired by external factors. This is until we realize how much of the director is embedded into this film. Not only is this a semi-autobiographical account of her experiences as someone whose biggest aspiration is just to be an artist (not even one that attains great success – as she says early in the film, all she wants is a job that allows her to be creative and express her version, while still paying for her rent), but it’s almost a fundamentally compelling story of a woman on a journey to find herself, coming to terms with her identity in ways that are often quite funny, but carry a sentiment of utter sincerity throughout. Blank, both as the creative force behind the film and as the character she creates in the process, is a fascinating figure – she’s not afraid of expressing herself, which conflicts with her more notable insecurities, which take the form of hiding certain aspects of herself, which she eventually realizes is a means to not prevent the world from knowing everything about her, but a means through which she can comfort herself without addressing her innermost anxieties, which inform so much of her creative output. We’ve seen countless stories of artists finding themselves through their work – and The Forty-Year-Old Version doesn’t do much in changing this narrative, but rather supplements it in beautifully simple ways. It is a sparse work of drama that is theatrical when it needs to be, and is embedded with such a purposeful message about the intersections between artistry and identity, the fact that this could be viewed as the director’s ode to her own experiences as both an artist and a woman in the contemporary world, becomes perhaps its most enduring and poetic quality.

Partially an upbeat comedy aligned with the school of nihilistic, effortlessly cool social realism, as well as a resounding slice-of-life drama that looks into the artistic process with a direct and unflinching glare, while still briefly flirting with contemporary hip hop and soaring romance, The Forty-Year-Old Version is a daring, genre-bending masterwork that situates itself on a side of humanity not often represented, especially not with this kind of undaunted honesty – and considering how much of Blank’s own life can be seen in every frame of the film, it’s difficult to not appreciate her directness and willingness to tell her story, without any degree of sensationalism. This film is ultimately a riveting dialogue between the artist and her audience – the director/writer/star picks up a camera, assembles a small but memorable cast, and tells her story in such a way that the viewer feels as if we’re getting an exclusive glimpse into her mind, all the while being invited to take part in the conversation. She pushes the envelope and holds absolutely nothing back – every moment she is on screen is bursting with an honesty that isn’t always very comforting, especially when she is openly eviscerating the institutionalized beliefs and inadvertent biases that keep her in the same cycle of banality and false formality, which all converges into two hours of the most pure, unfaltering artistic expression. Blank pours her soul into every moment of  The Forty-Year-Old Version, giving us as the audience the chance to see things from her perspective – the title of the film isn’t even restricted to being an amusing reference, but rather a bold assertion that this film will be entirely focused on giving a certain perspective on a variety of modern issues, and while it may often not be what many want to hear, it’s absolutely necessary that we give Blank the chance to say it, since every word in this film is absolutely essential, not because it is sacrosanct, but because it reveals unimpeachable truths about matters that concern all of us, whether directly or otherwise.

Everything about The Forty-Year-Old Version seems like a journey – it starts out as an endearing comedy about a modern woman trying to make her way through her corner of the world, encountering various misadventures and inadvertently putting herself in very awkward situations – but these moments carry a certain stark realism, which gradually emerges as the central drive of the film, eventually becoming the focus of much of the story. Undeniably a comedy, since Blank finds the outrageous humour in some of the most unexpected moments, but still profoundly serious in the message it is hoping to impart, The Forty-Year-Old Version is a complex work that feels very much on the verge of being crushed by the weight of its own ambition, but is frequently rescued by a director who understands the narrow boundary between telling one’s own story and needless self-indulgence, with the former being the most prominent aspect of the film, and the reason why it succeeds so well. We often tend to use the word “auteur” far too recklessly, normally to describe any distinctive filmmaker with a notable style or reputation – but The Forty-Year-Old Version seems like the precise kind of situation where the most basic definition of the term comes into focus, since everything Blank is doing here feels written specifically for a particular moment, whether it be exposing her vulnerabilities, commenting on her own flaws (she rarely ever positions herself as the ideal woman, or even as someone without problems – the film’s frequent embracing of the main character’s shortcomings is absolutely endearing) or even just conveying a certain emotion. It’s a beautifully poetic approach that may not be necessarily revolutionary in form, but is almost entirely worthwhile in intention, since honesty is the central propulsion for The Forty-Year-Old Version, which thrives on its outright refusal to be anything less than extraordinary.