In the realm of coming-of-age films, Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret. stands as a poignant exploration of the intricate tapestry of emotions that come with early adolescence. Adapted from Judy Blume’s novel of the same name, the film traces the journey of Margaret Simon, an 11-year-old girl poised on the precipice of puberty. Set against the backdrop of the 1970s, Margaret’s story not only delves into the physiological changes of growing up but also unearths the emotional evolution that accompanies this transitional phase.
Margaret Simon’s uniqueness emerges from her unconventional relationship with spirituality. Growing up in a household where her parents’ interfaith marriage has given her the freedom to choose her religion, she forges her own connection with God. While her parents remain non-practitioners of their respective faiths, Margaret finds solace in her personal conversations with God, a higher power she’s not entirely certain exists. Her opening lines were, Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret, becomes her private sanctuary—a way to navigate life’s uncertainties and express her desires, even if only within the confines of her room.
The narrative kicks off with Margaret’s world being upended as her father’s promotion necessitates a move from New York to New Jersey. The emotional turmoil that accompanies such a change is palpable as she grapples with leaving behind her grandmother, who is her best friend, and the neighborhood she grew up in. When Barbara reassures Margaret that she won’t be alone by explaining that she’s leaving her beloved art-teaching job to be at home full-time, Margaret can’t help but wonder about her reasons for leaving something she holds so dear. This shake-up sets the stage for Margaret’s exploration of friendship, identity, and faith. She is nervous about moving to a suburban neighborhood, making new friends, and starting at a new school. These are just a few of the things that make her anxious. In a desperate move, she asks God to try and stop this move from happening, or at the very least, Please don’t let New Jersey be too horrible.
Margaret’s initial encounter with Nancy Wheeler, her exuberant neighbor, is emblematic of her yearning for companionship in this new chapter of her life. Although Margaret finds Nancy’s confidence overwhelming, her eagerness to fit in and make friends propels her forward. Nancy introduces Margaret to her secret club, whose rituals mirror the girls’ collective curiosity about puberty and boys. Keen on making a good impression, Margaret joins Nancy, Janie, and Gretchen in reciting the mantra we must, we must, we must increase our bust as they push their arms back and thrust their chests forward. Their interactions push Margaret into unfamiliar territories, where she treads a delicate line between conformity and authenticity. Although Margaret secretly nurses feelings for Moose, she lies about jotting down Philip Leroy’s name in her notebook during a conversation about crushes with the girls. Simultaneously, Margaret’s class teacher proposes a religion-focused research project stemming from Margaret’s candid admission that she dislikes religious holidays on her get-to-know-me sheet.
As Margaret’s journey unfolds, her quest to find her place in the world deepens. The film deftly navigates the complexities of Margaret’s biracial and interfaith background. Her interactions with her mother, Barbara, provide insight into the challenges posed by her parents’ differing religious upbringings. The revelation that Margaret’s maternal grandparents disowned Barbara due to her interfaith marriage highlights the emotional toll that such divisions can take on familial bonds. Margaret’s innocent question, But you are their daughter, encapsulates her inability to fathom the severity of such prejudice, a poignant moment that underscores the film’s exploration of acceptance and identity. She’s unable to grasp how parents can just cast away their daughter for marrying someone she loves. Embarking on her quest to explore different religions, Margaret seeks her grandmother’s company at the temple, much to Sylvia’s overwhelming delight. However, at the temple, Margaret finds herself unable to comprehend the proceedings due to the service being conducted in Hebrew. As the service concludes, she confides in God about her mixed feelings, admitting that while she cherished the atmosphere and music, she anticipated a different experience—perhaps a more profound connection. Conversely, her parents remain puzzled by her desire to engage with religion at such an early stage in her life. A school presentation further piles onto Margaret’s already overwhelming plate. Amidst this mounting pressure, she grapples with an additional worry—the urgency to experience her first period in sync with her peers, avoiding being the lone outsider and potential target of ridicule. When Gretchen becomes one of the first to reach this milestone, the girls gather eagerly, seeking insights into this enigmatic rite of passage. Margaret, consumed by desperation, questions Gretchen about feeling older and more mature. This yearning becomes palpable as she returns home, driven by fervent prayer. Kneeling by her bed, her hands folded in a traditional stance, she implores herself to “grow and get her period and be normal and regular like everybody else. Margaret’s desperation amplifies as she joins Janie for a supermarket visit to procure supplies, hoping to preemptively address the inevitable. Their anticipation intensifies when they approach the checkout counter, expecting a female cashier to spare them embarrassment. However, faced with a young male cashier, their discomfort is palpable, prompting Margaret to add a box of tic-tacs to the mix—a small yet telling gesture to ease the awkwardness of the situation.
On Christmas Eve, Margaret accompanies Nancy and her family to church, yet instead of finding clarity, she discovers her confusion deepening. She expresses a heartfelt wish, yearning that she could have been born with a clearer sense of identity. Caught at the crossroads of two faiths, she grapples with the weight of such a significant decision at her tender age, burdened by a choice that feels prematurely imposing. While Sylvia enjoys a vacation in Florida, surrounded by peers of her age, Margaret expresses her desire to meet up. An excited Sylvia extends an invitation for Margaret to join her on this vacation adventure. A group project unites Laura, Margaret, Philip, and Norman, but tension ensues when Philip’s thoughtless comment triggers Margaret’s anger. Left to shoulder the workload when the boys fail to contribute, Margaret and Laura’s collaboration takes an unexpected turn. A minor issue escalates, leading to Margaret’s uncharacteristic rudeness towards Laura. Stricken by Laura’s response, which accuses her and Nancy of causing harm with their words and fabrications, Margaret promptly realizes the gravity of her mistake and seeks to make amends.
Haunted by guilt, Margaret ventures into the confession booth after Laura, her intentions pure, but her emotions overwhelm her, causing her to flee before finding solace. Amidst her personal turmoil, Margaret yearns to reunite with Sylvia in Florida just as they had planned, yet life’s twists and turns thwart her plans. Instead, an unexpected visit from Barbara’s parents prompts frustration. The gathering of Sylvia, Mary, and Paul becomes a canvas for contrasting beliefs, with suggestions of baptism and Sunday school for Margaret clashing against her existing identity as a Jew (per Sylvia). A heated exchange ensues, with tensions escalating as Barbara, Herb, and their parents become embroiled in a passionate dispute. Margaret, overwhelmed by the chaos and discontent, blurts out her disbelief in God—an emotional eruption that shatters her previous conversations with the divine. Margaret’s connection with God fractured, and she channeled her turmoil into her school assignment, dissecting the paradox of religion—how it advocates unity while often fanning discord. In her paper, she explores the dichotomy between the promise of prayer’s intervention and her own experiences of escalating troubles despite earnest supplications. Amidst this inner turmoil, Margaret grapples with isolation and a gnawing sense of abandonment as her conviction falters and she questions whether anyone truly hears her prayers.
The evolution of Margaret’s friendship with Nancy mirrors her growing self-awareness. The divergence in their paths becomes evident when Nancy deceives the group about having gotten her period, forcing Margaret to question the authenticity of their connections. Margaret’s realization that she needs to embrace her individuality rather than chase approval culminates in her decision to dance with Laura at the school year-end party.
The film culminates in Margaret’s long-awaited milestone: the onset of her period. This momentous occasion is not just a physical change but a symbolic representation of her transition into womanhood. The scene where her mother joins her in celebration is a touching testament to their evolving relationship and the bond that unites them through shared experiences.
Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret triumphs as a touching portrayal of the myriad emotions that accompany adolescence. Margaret Simon’s journey is one of self-discovery, resilience, and the navigation of complex social landscapes. Through her relationships with God, family, and friends, Margaret becomes a vessel for viewers to explore their own coming-of-age complexities and the intricacies of identity formation. As Margaret stands on the precipice of her future, the film leaves audiences with a poignant reminder that the path to selfhood is a multifaceted voyage—one that often demands embracing uncertainty and, ultimately, finding solace in the journey itself.
