Truthful in it’s approach, distinct in it’s style, and overwhelmingly emotional, Marriage Story is another awards contender for Netflix.
Almost 50 percent of marriages in the United States end in a divorce, and there is an estimated 41 percent of all first marriages ending in a divorce. This is a line that Noah Baumbach straddles, leads, and ultimately walks for the duration of Marriage Story. A movie that starts during the final stages of transitioning from being together, to separate. The collective social media outpouring of love for Marriage Story has reached tremendous heights, has appealed to those who have been involved in this stressful time, and even for those on the outside looking in. Which is where Baumbach focuses his lens. To a fly on the wall perspective as our presence remains unnoticed, but in complete observation of the events unraveling before us.
It’s evident early on that this film never wants to pick sides or have one parent dominate over another. After all, it’s not about winning or losing (although in the eyes of some that seems to be the case), but rather an exploration of the dichotomy of two opposites that attract. The exploration of that contrast, the positives and negatives of both their beings, and the conversation it has on a broader, politically, more lawfully charged landscape. A landscape that intends to divide and conquer in a way that uses words like “winning” and “losing” as decoration for their own selfishness. Leeching off of Nicole and Charlie’s human emotion to help their case, the lawyers intend to emotionally manipulate their clients and the opposing party to be successful. When in reality, compromise was always the goal before they were sucked into the nasty world of winners and losers. An idea and vision that becomes a financially stressful burden pressed upon it’s parties that are trying to re-assemble their respective individuality.
As I mentioned at the top, Baumbach visualizes that objective truth with delicacy and emotionally complex character and camera movement. The blocking here is astounding. Whether characters are moving, or not moving, it lends itself to saying more without having to say anything at all. The camera increases the distance between the characters through close-ups, and eventually explores that further between moving barriers and wide angle shots of the empty space in between them. Each shot, no matter how brief, how close, or how long, serves a significant purpose in exploring Nicole and Charlie’s preparation for the inevitable. Two worlds split apart by great distance not only thematically, but quite literally by 2,700 miles. Worlds broken down to cities, that are then molded into the characteristics of its two leads. The sunny, open, adventurous space of L.A., and the busy, bustling, towering, honed in New York City. Two cities, so different, so unlike each other, but places that embody it’s characters tragically through it’s mutual appeal of promises.
Marriage Story is an exploration of the margins in the process of a divorce. Vilifying the narrative of “winners” and “losers” in this deeply tragic time for all parties involved, and subverting the cliché of “will they or won’t they”. Rather than juggling the idea that everything will be resolved positively or negatively, Marriage Story makes it abundantly clear that “they should”. Drawing a path to neutrality, but placing obstacles such as financial pitfalls, morally conflicting choices, and emotional stress in the way. The camerawork is articulate, delicate, and parasitic in how it films emotion. Randy Newman’s score isn’t some amalgamation of operatic piano music or light guitar stringing to emotionally manipulate the audience into feeling something. Robbie Ryan’s cinematography mixed with Jennifer Lame’s editing allows the visuals to do the talking. Although the dialogue is riveting, reflective of our own experiences watching Moms and Dads argue, it’s the moments shot to shot that really make Marriage Story an effective, emotionally moving experience. Sometimes, when nothing is said at all, and the trust is bestowed upon the actors, magic can be real. Just as it is here.
This is everyone at the height of their powers in a film that is a snapshot of an era. A truth spoken through the calculated misfortune of an experience that’ll open wounds, heal others, and peek through doorways into experiences that’ll shape the foreseeable future for the characters.