How to Build A Girl

Caitlin Moran's popular novel about a 16-year-old music critic savagely taking the 1990s London music scene by storm is now a witty movie with a screenplay by the novelist herself, together with writer John Niven.

A thirty-second description of the plot would make the film sound like a British version of "Almost Famous" with a female lead. There are parallels; the main character here, Johanna Morrigan (Beanie Feldstein), is only 16, and she more or less tumbles into a career as a rock music journalist. She's even, at one point, introduced to a rock star as "the enemy."

Like the 15-year-old male protagonist of "Almost Famous," Johanna – who takes the pen name Dolly Wilde – begins writing for an influential music magazine. A personal connection with a popular musician opens career doors, but also clears a path for personal growth.

The similarities end there. This is the story of how a young woman comes into possession of her own life – though her "inevitable period of intense sexual experimentation," as well as her maturation into an adult capable of wielding her talent constructively.

And what talent! Johanna perplexes her teacher by handing in massively overwritten essays. She's one of those young people teachers look for; someone who's got a spark – though, the bemused teacher allows, she's "like Krakatoa." Writing isn't the only way in which Johanna is industrious; she's also read every book in the local library, including "Ulysses." (When a celebrity interview subject expresses amazement that she's never heard The Rolling Stones, she explains that the library's copies of the Stones' records were reserved well in advance; no one else, though, put in for James Joyce's masterpiece.)

Growing up in Wolverton – which, in the U.S. would be akin to, say, Flint, Michigan, or maybe Detroit – Johanna is used to creating excitement for herself. Her bedroom wall is decorated with pictures of her literary and cinematic heroes; in her fertile imagination, these figures come to life to offer perspective and advice. Her closest confidant – her gay brother Krissi (Laurie Kynaston) – dwells in the room next door. Downstairs, Dad (Paddy Considine), a frustrated musician, bangs away at this drum kit, while Mom (Sarah Solemani) tends to newly born twin boys. (There's a fourth brother, but he's barely glimpsed.)

Things are looking dire for the family when Dad's scheme of relying on disability checks while also breeding dogs is found out. That's when Krissi suggests to Johanna that she ought to become a rock music critic. Improbably enough, Johanna gets a job at music publication D&Me, in London; a promising start falters when she falls in love with her first big name interview, pop balladeer John Kite (Alfie Allen, "Game of Thrones"). The lovelorn article she turns in is a near-fatal career misstep. What's needed, Johanna learns, is to be an implacable guard of musical taste, a music critic who's impossible to please and quick to lash out with a razor-sharp pen. Hello, success!

The story barely bothers to feel plausible, and the beats follow a well-worn path: Success, disappointment, rage, alienation, redemption. But there's enough here to keep you following along, and that early tumble into love, as it turns out, is a binding thread: Not just a fangirl crush, but something deeper.

What truly saves the film, however, is its forward momentum and its refusal to apologize. Johanna's talents and ambitions also happen to run toward sexual fun, and she doesn't hesitate to tease her brother with tales of her wild exploits – all while the frustrated Krissi is going to great lengths to get so much as a kiss from a closet case in the back of a van with the windows covered over. (This is the 1990s, remember.)

Books turned into films often show the seams where a novel's ideas have had to be nipped, tucked, curtailed, and stitched together to fit the needs of cinema. Some of that is true with this story – there are many threads that don't feel entirely followed through – but the cast (particularly Considine as Johanna's father) manage to bring dimensionality to their roles. While you never quite believe in Beanie Feldstein as a 16-year-old wunderkind, you never doubt either her talent or her drive.