Miss Stevens (2016) is one of those movies that’s so tender, poignant, and largely unseen, that I always feel grateful, when rewatching it, that I came across it in the first place.
The story follows Rachel Stevens (Lily Rabe), a high school English teacher, over the course of a weekend in which she takes three students — Margot (Lili Reinhart), Sam (Anthony Quintal), and Billy (Timothée Chalamet)—to a drama competition. What we learn about the hard-to-read, seemingly lonely Miss Stevens is that she’s recovering from the loss of her mother, who was an actress.
Miss Stevens finds an unexpected connection to Billy who’s also lonely—struggling with “behavioral issues” and “tension at home,” according to the schools principal. Billy seems less interested in bonding with Margot and Sam, and more so in spending time with Miss Stevens — and it becomes clear that he feels something for her.
Miss Stevens is hesitant to let down her guard around him — or anyone—but eventually does when one night he comes to her room— and the two jump up and down on her bed together, laughing, the first moment of true joy we’ve seen in either of them so far in the movie.
A heartfelt moment ensues on the balcony of the hotel room, where Miss Stevens shares a memory of her mother and breaks down in tears in Billy’s arms. It’s the first time we’ve seen her show this much emotion — and she seems lost in it, until she snaps out of it, seeming to “come to,” realizing how this might look—her in her students arms. She blinks away the tears, repeatedly telling Billy that he has to leave and he looks at her, hurt, and asks “Why are you making me go?”
As a viewer, this scene is conflicting. I wanted Billy to go. I wanted Miss Stevens and Billy’s relationship to remain pure — to not become another tale of a teacher crossing boundaries, and becoming inappropriately involved with a student. At the same time, I didn’t want Billy to go. I wanted him to stay, to comfort her while she was vulnerable, because they were two people who seemed to so desperately need that: to be comfortable, vulnerable, and close with another person. And sometimes, we find comfort in the places and people we least expect to.
The next day, Billy confronts Miss Stevens, telling her: “Even though you were trying to hide it last night, I could see that you were sad. And I knew how to make you happy. And then you asked me to leave. I don’t know why you asked me to leave…you were sad and I knew how to fix it.” “No Billy, you can’t fix it,” she replies.
I like that this is acknowledged. It may seem obvious, but I think it’s still important to address — when showing two characters seeking something in each other that they’re struggling to find in themselves — that ultimately, we can’t fix each others problems. We can find someone to empathize with us, listen to us, support us, but we can’t expect to fix anyone else — or even fix ourselves. Because getting through loss and loneliness is not about fixing, it’s about healing — and Billy and Miss Stevens are the unlikely catalysts for each other to begin that process.
Ultimately, nothing romantic happens between the two characters — which is a relief. After the drama competition and at the end of the movie, Miss Stevens drops the students back off at school, where Billy greets his parents. “Let them take care of you,” Miss Stevens says to Billy.
“Someone should take care of you too,” Billy tells her.
This one line says so much about the movie — it’s smart, it’s simple, it sums it up: at the end of the day, we need human connection. No matter how strong or independent we are, it’s okay to embrace loneliness and loss, and to follow a road less traveled on our way to healing.
