An Education and The Maid: Home Outgrown Two films about surmounting the strictures of domestic life.

To a 16-year-old seeking a word of sophistication outside her stuffy household, a night out at a jazz club can feel like a lusty Christmas. The dress is slinky instead of schoolgirl. Dinner arrives around the same time a good student should be heading for bed. And a date who’s smooth-talking, well-off, and well-versed in all things refined makes the stammering teen with first-date flop sweat look even more ridiculous.

In Danish director Lone Scherfig’s An Education, you can feel nerves melting into giddiness as Jenny (Carey Mulligan) experiences this scene for the first time. Except that the man who invited her, David (Peter Sarsgaard), is careful to avoid the D-word when he asks her out: “My friends Danny and Helen are coming, too, so it won’t be a…” he trails. The issue? The man’s approximately twice Jenny’s age. And no one can overlook the fact that this girl is both metaphorically and physically advanced beyond her years.

The story (adapted by Nick Hornby from a memoir by Lynn Barber) takes place in 1960s London. However—and though it may seem counterintuitive—the couple’s age difference is the least of what concerns the adults in Jenny’s life. Until she meets David, Jenny is well-behaved and studious, gifted on the cello and aiming to study literature at Oxford. She does dream of the urbane life—cigarettes, French music, dressing in black—but knows that won’t happen until she wriggles from the control of her parents (Cara Seymour and Alfred Molina, the latter an amusing Humpy Dumpty of just-say-no fustiness and general alarm).

Naturally, Mum and Dad are initially wary of letting their little girl gallivant with a man who’s practically their contemporary. But no one, apparently, is immune to David’s charm and cunning: He easily wins them over with facile compliments (“Jenny, you didn’t tell me you had a sister!”) and bald lies (he’s not only an Oxford alum himself; he’s quite close with Jenny’s favorite author, “Clive”—or C.S.—Lewis). So they entrust David—and his “Aunt Helen,” who’s really a cheerfully vacuous socialite played by Rosamund Pike—with their daughter. And Pops being the frugal type, he’s not even all that concerned that Jenny’s romance will make her forget Oxford to instead become a housewife.

David’s effortless ability to enchant has a dark side, though, which is what makes Jenny’s involvement with him as much a lesson as a whirlwind romance. But the witty script and excellent performances never sink the film to a black-and-white portrait of a conniving man tricking an innocent girl. Mulligan’s baby face may often be fresh-scrubbed, but her knowledge of arts and culture and ease at keeping up with her more worldly new friends feels believable; even when David is rationalizing some of his unsavory habits, it doesn’t sound so bad when accompanied by Sarsgaard’s handsome smile and serviceable accent. Much has been made of the film’s inherent skeeviness, too, particularly in light of the Roman Polanski arrest. But Jenny’s dabble in adulthood rarely feels Toddlers in Tiaras–disturbing: She begins dressing with Audrey Hepburn elegance and has the mannerisms to back it up, and for much of the film, the relationship is chaste. A creepy vibe does emerge when, during their first night at a hotel together, David asks, “May I have a look?” but neither the feeling nor his eyes linger.

An Education ultimately feels much more mature than most coming-of-age movies, and will buoy anyone who still remembers what it’s like to take that first peek into life beyond parents and textbooks. It might not have worked as well without Mulligan, a relative newcomer whose face belies Jenny’s every emotion and who can make lines such as “It was the best night of my life” sound simultaneously happy and wistful. Scherfig’s lone misstep is in the film’s final chapters, which are reduced to a cheesy montage and wrapped all too quickly. Even so, its loveliness abides.

A personal transformation takes place in The Maid, too, but it’s far less pleasant. The main problem of Chilean writer-director Sebastián Silva’s story about a long-time, live-in housekeeper, however, is a double-edged: The film’s star, Catalina Saavedra, is excellent as the embittered title character. As a result, you spend much of the film wanting to punch her in the face.

Raquel (Saavedra) is celebrating her 41st birthday in the opening scene, dragged from her solitary meal in a kitchen to have cake with the family who’s employed her for over two decades. The only other person who acknowledges the occasion is her mother; the round-the-clock service that Raquel provides for Pilar (Claudia Celedón), Mundo (Alejandro Goic), and their children hasn’t allowed her to establish much of a life of her own. Raquel is fond of most of the family but engages in passive-aggressive battles with the teenage Camila (Andrea Garcia-Huidobro), even scratching out the girl’s face in photographs.

Raquel’s beef with Camila is never explained, but when Pilar starts hiring assistant maids to help her manage the big house (Raquel suffers from headaches and vertigo), the housekeeper becomes fiercely territorial. Each new maid, no matter how polite, gets locked out of the house and sabotaged; and Raquel disinfects the bathroom after a shower as if each maid had swine flu. Raquel seems to think no action too wicked if it means she’ll be the sole servant again—even the kitten is a tool for revenge.

This cycling of new help and the family’s increasing awareness of Raquel’s craziness is accompanied by Saavedra’s invariably pissy expression, which, along with Raquel’s childish behavior, gets old fast. The few scenes that show Raquel laughing (she’s partial to one of the sons) start to seem incongruent, and when an assistant finally tussles with her, well, you don’t root for the protagonist. Turns out the line between “depressed woman” and “fucking psycho” is a fine one.

As infuriating as the film gets, though, it’s always engaging, even if you just want to find out exactly what Raquel’s problem is. The family finally gets lucky after hiring Lucy (Mariana Loyola), a cheerful sort who pushes through Raquel’s armor to show her there’s life outside of work. The Maid’s story is arguably too facile to warrant big-screen treatment, but there is some thoughtfulness to take away from this slice-of-life, however slight.