Nina Geld (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), is a remarkably gifted young stand-up comedian who has recently started making significant waves in the New York comedy scene, still residing in relative obscurity, but being on the brink of a breakthrough, especially since she shows an undying commitment to her craft, determined to do whatever it takes to succeed, even if it means taking the most atrocious gigs imaginable. In an effort to get cast on Comedy Prime, the best platform for burgeoning stand-up comics, she moves to Los Angeles, in hopes of finally getting noticed. Over the course of a few weeks, she does what she does best – performs her unique brand of comedy, defined by her undying candour, for adoring audiences who immediately grow to adore her, even when her material verges on being quite uncomfortable. The reason for her extreme honesty is that Nina harbours some deep secrets – she constantly hints at a dark past and a troubled childhood, but never quite reveals the details, afraid that sharing the harrowing details of her upbringing will not only put all her vulnerabilities on display, but cause audiences to become repulsed, since beneath the extremely confident and interesting young comedian is an insecure, broken woman who is doing her best to move on from the past – and as soon as her past is revealed, she fears that the mystique will disappear, as she’ll be written off as just another millennial using comedy to work through her trauma. During her stay in Los Angeles, she tries to balance her comedy career with a variety of new relationships, whether it be with her eccentric landlady (Kate del Castillo ), or the mysterious but alluring love interest (Common), who sweeps her off her feet, almost suspiciously so, since Nina isn’t used to someone actually being interested in her as a person. Yet, she soon learns through these growing friendships that she is someone with worth, and starts to understand that the only way to get the validation she seeks is to look inward, and realize that acceptance of reality and the wisdom to embrace one’s flaws don’t come from the approval garnered through others, but from within.

All About Nina is the kind of film that doesn’t come around all that often – a small and independent comedy that hints at some darker subject matter, all the while still managing to be relatively entertaining, even when touching on the more harrowing depths of the human condition. The directorial debut of Eva Vives, who establishes herself as one of the most exciting young voices in contemporary cinema, the film is a thorough examination of the life of an ordinary young woman trying to make her way through a hostile world, working through her traumas while trying her best to make a name for herself in the notoriously male world of stand-up comedy. It’s a layered film, one that is simmering with an intensity that may not be expected at the outset, but gradually unravels in a way that is wonderfully natural. It’s an audacious debut, particularly in how Vives traverses the multitudes of themes while still finding the perfect balance between the overarching themes and the deeper meanings associated with each one of them. It’s a tricky process, but there’s very little room to falter when someone is as assured in her understanding of the material, and confident in her ability to bring it to the screen, as the director, who never deviates from a gritty authenticity that hearkens back to the earliest days of American independent cinema, where this kind of bleak but captivating existential nihilism defined many films, and took us on enthralling journeys into the lives of complex characters, who may not always be particularly likeable, but are certainly nothing less than compelling when portrayed well. All About Nina has many different ideas embedded in its fabric, and it takes its time to gradually unfurl each and every one of them, until all we’re left with is a poignant, disquieting metaphysical comedy with as much as much depth as it has laughter.

As a piercing character study, All About Nina hinges on the performance given by the person playing the titular character, with everything surrounding it beginning and ending with her performance. Luckily, Mary Elizabeth Winstead is one of the most gifted young actresses of her generation, someone who has continuously proven herself on the world’s stage in a variety of roles, across both film and television. Perhaps it’s an odd assertion, considering how small the scope of this film is, but All About Nina is her best work to date. It’s a brutally raw performance that sees Winstead overcoming insurmountable odds, putting herself on screen in as bare and brave a performance as we’ve come to expect from actresses of her calibre. It’s almost indescribable the depths to which Winstead is capable of ascending in the role of the titular Nina, capturing the charms and quirks of a modern stand-up comic, as well as conveying the deep disturbances that have haunted this woman for her entire life. It’s an achingly beautiful portrayal of someone working their way through her daily challenges, not only trying to make a name for herself in a difficult industry, but carrying her trauma along with her, which inadvertently informs nearly all of her decisions, and causes her to set unconventional boundaries with her professional and personal partners. Winstead develops this character so well, finding the truth within her every movement and emotion, and bringing out the pain in a way that seems so authentic, it can almost be difficult to watch, since every moment she appears on screen simmers with a scorching honesty that implies that she is either working from a place of incredible empathy for the story she’s representing, or she’s such a talented actress, she can convey pain in such a hauntingly realistic way. Regardless of the impetus, Winstead gives an absolutely astonishing performance that sets the screen aflame, and once again shows what she is capable of doing, granted she has material worthy of her time and talents.

All About Nina is a slow-burning, quiet meditation on one woman’s quest for validation, contrasted with her harrowing exploration of trauma, garnered through a difficult childhood defined by sexual violence, and many years where the only comfort and solace for these existential scars were found at the bottom of a bottle, the end of a reefer or in the bed of a stranger. Considering all of this, it seems inappropriate to call All About Nina a comedy – yet, Vives executes everything with such razor-sharp wit, cutting the harrowing subject matter with some genuinely funny observational comedy that allows a perfect balance between the two to be found, and for the film to set a solid foundation firmly within the two wildly different worlds. Films about comedians often do employ some degree of commentary insofar as showing their personal struggles, but they normally tend to be either flippant about the serious subject matter, or veer towards heavy-handed, overly sentimental preaching. Neither of which is present in this film, which takes on the story of a woman using comedy as a healing force to work through her trauma, but presenting it with stark and unflinching honesty, which only serves to make it even more captivating, since every frame of the film feels genuine, almost as if we’re watching a real person gradually pull apart the strands of her own disturbed life, revealing the deep sadness that has defined most of it. Credit must go to Vives for telling this story – it’s not one that can be considered normally cinematic, and while it never hides the truths about the material it will cover (so it’s impossible to say it was misleading, since we know from the outset this is going to go to some dark places), the gradual revelations, often done through the most subtle clues, are quite surprising. This is the kind of film that proves that independent cinema is worth not only celebrating, but protecting, since these stories wouldn’t dare be told on a much bigger platform, at least not with the brutal honesty that underpins this film and makes it so incredibly captivating.

They often say drama is easy, comedy is difficult – and as worn-out, as this cliche may be, films like All About Nina truly prove its accuracy. Its ability to plumb the emotional depths of the human condition, showcasing the challenges many people have endured in the past, makes this an instantly important piece of filmmaking, both for the subjects it explores, and it’s very unique manner of doing so in a way that comes across as genuine and insightful, rather than exploitative. In the traditional sense of importance, All About Nina may not seem like an essential work – we tend to see several films that appear to be similar, and the idea of an independent comedy that is covertly a harrowing social-issues drama is anything but now. However, through the penetrating gaze of a very gifted director, who uses her camera as a tool to bring this story to life, and helped along by a magnificent performance by Mary Elizabeth Winstead, All About Nina is an absolute triumph. It doesn’t always have the smoothest transition between tone and atmosphere, but the jarring juxtaposition of the titular character’s very funny stand-up comedy, and her more disturbing personal life, contribute to the general mood of the film, where the darker recesses of human experience stand in stark contrast to our often joyful exteriors. Not only a terrific film about a stand-up comedian, one that can easily stand proudly alongside the canonical entries into the sub-genre, but also a beautiful, poetic exploration of depression and trauma, All About Nina does everything it can to convey a very strong and important message, and does so with poise, sophistication and warm-hearted humour, making this an absolutely essential work of contemporary independent filmmaking, and just a wonderful, meaningful tale of the importance of resilience and working through the unconventional challenges we might face. When life gives you trauma, make comedy.