In my house as a child, there were three VHS tapes in heavy rotation. All three were actually compilations of movies my grandmother thought we’d enjoy, taped off of HBO or if we were lucky, the Disney Channel, and sent to my sister and myself usually with a box of cookies packed carefully in buttered popcorn and stuffed in an empty cereal box. For some reason that I will never fully understand, one of these tapes was Baby Boom, a 1987 romantic comedy cum workplace comedy cum empowerment manifesto that belongs in my all-time top 5: a classic, sandwiched in between 10 Things I Hate About You and Mulan.
In Baby Boom, Diane Keaton plays J.C. Wiatt, a powerful business executive, dressed to conquer the corporate world and break that glass ceiling once and for all. Dressed in sharp-shouldered, wasp-waisted suits, and toting a sharp-edged briefcase, she’s a paragon of late ’80s Yuppie success: her partner, Steven (Harold Ramis) is a watered down Patrick Bateman, and they have a beautiful if not extremely dated apartment from which they both stare at sheafs of paper in manila folders while wearing round tortoiseshell glasses.
J.C.’s life changes dramatically when, via the magic of cinema, she inherits a baby named Elizabeth who belonged to distant cousins in England that have since passed on. After a halfhearted attempt to put Elizabeth up for adoption and a full-throttle attempt at having it all, J.C. is pushed out of the partner track at her management firm; her spot is given to her assistant, and she finally gives it all up, buying a farmhouse in Vermont. What follows is a tightly-edited romantic comedy, featuring Sam Shepherd, baby applesauce, and a gentle ribbing of the trend of assholes from New York City going to the country for a weekend and relishing in all things quaint. In short, it is a perfect film.
Directed by Charles Shyer and written with his then wife, America’s foremost chronicler of upper-class white people problems, Nancy Meyer, it is a startlingly prescient look at the anxieties of motherhood. It is a movie I feel every person should watch at least once in their life. My coworker Hazel Cills had never seen this movie. Eager to convert another neophyte to the glory of this film, she watched it and then we had a nice chat.
HAZEL: Despite being a Diane Keaton x Nancy Meyers collab fangirl, I had never seen Baby Boom for some reason. I only knew that it starred Keaton as an ’80s power-boss who inherits a baby and somehow apple trees were involved. Admittedly, I was kind of expecting this to be some sexist, retrograde tale about how “ACTUALLY WORK ISN’T ENOUGH FOR WOMEN TO BE HAPPY, THEY WILL ALWAYS LONG FOR BABIES!” So I went in with my guard up. But it’s actually a movie about how nearly impossible it is to be a working mother and get taken seriously in the corporate world??? J.C. does everything you’re “supposed” to do: she hires a nanny, she’s mingling with all the right annoying men, and keeping her personal life as discreet as possible (since god forbid anyone realizes she has a life/family outside of the office.) And still it’s not enough for her boss, who promotes the junior and predictably smug James Spader over her! The minute anyone realizes she has a baby it’s like, whoops, guess you can’t do your job anymore.
Admittedly, I was kind of expecting this to be some sexist, retrograde tale about how “ACTUALLY WORK ISN’T ENOUGH FOR WOMEN TO BE HAPPY, THEY WILL ALWAYS LONG FOR BABIES!”
MEGAN: As noted, Baby Boom is one of my favorite movies of all time. Rewatching said movie has made me realize how much of the messages I’ve internalized and carried with me through to my adult years. Who doesn’t want a beautiful farmhouse decorated in Laura Ashley’s castoffs? Who wouldn’t want to inherit an apple-cheeked baby who will eventually serve as the face of a wildly successful artisanal baby applesauce brand? These are aspirational, linen-draped mommy blog aspirations before that kind of lifestyle was glamorized, and for that, Baby Boom is revolutionary. But your point about how… advanced the movie’s message is feels important.
What struck me most about my zillionth rewatch is how everything J.C. does is representative of the anxieties of new motherhood—and how also depressing it is to realize that this conversation is one that we are still having today. I couldn’t help but think of the 2011 Sarah Jessica Parker vehicle, I Don’t Know How She Does It, a movie that touches on similar themes. Perhaps this movie was the groundwork for that film, or maybe it’s just that these issues are as old as the redwoods, and we will be dealing with them forevermore, until empowerment feminism, Lean In, and the unrealistic and unhealthy notion of “having it all” are banished forever from the cultural lexicon.