Marriage Story
A masterful elegy for a marriage
by Michael Augsberger - originally published 14 Dec 2019
What God has joined, let no man put asunder. I learned in my upbringing and believe today that two bodies become one, one body and one life, in marriage. And so it takes that kind of divine effort, herculean and otherworldly, for its participants to tear apart a life so joined. Formidable too is depicting that deconstruction as flawlessly as Noah Baumbach has here. He has created a masterful elegy for Nicole and Charlie's love story that includes as much joy and pain as their marriage did.
Where did it even go wrong? Neither can begin to articulate it at first. We open to the best love-story montage since Up, in which we hear the tender essays they've written each other at the behest of their marriage counselor. It's only for our ears, however. When Nicole (Scarlett Johansson) simply won't read hers aloud, as was the deal, it's the beginning of many agreements that retroactively become mere discussions, and the first indication that she may be the driving force behind the separation.
The montage will be the most editing Baumbach does for the rest of the picture. There may not be a more real depiction of everyday life in any film ever, from the real way Charlie (Adam Driver) and Nicole talk to each other, to the naturalness of his lighting, to the way logistics affect them and the divorce proceedings, to Charlie's acting troupe's background conversations, to the new awkwardness felt in familiar situations. Scenes flow freely. Baumbach gives them the immediacy of theatre, but without so much self-reverence as to make scenes one long take. Characters will walk out of the shot, continue talking, come back. We are making sense of uncertainty like our couple is. And as for the dialogue—sanctus statim is another thing I learned in Catholic school. That translates, give it the Oscar now.
The couple embarks on the whole sad journey unwillingly. They are cordial, warm. No lawyers. They'll split custody of their grade-school-age son. She'll take him to Los Angeles to shoot her pilot, then bring him home back to New York afterward.
But once the lawyers start circling like vultures, the posturing begins. What once was agreed is now bargained for. Her attorney (Laura Dern) is part therapist, part saleswoman. Charlie's presides over a war room meant to keep their son in the five boroughs. None of the venom squares with their palpable care for each other; Nicole still orders off the menu for him, and he offers insight into her acting.
Slowly, reevaluations begin. Nicole was happy until she merely decided she wasn't, according to Charlie. Where were her objections when it mattered? In Nicole's mind, his ego swallowed and stifled her dreams. How could he have been so selfish? This is how they start to characterize each other's failings when reflecting on the previous ten years. You can decide to what extent their lawyers either poison their memories or elicit truth that can be known only upon introspection. As much as anything, Marriage Story centers on the narratives we cobble together to explain our pasts. Sometimes we don't know how we felt back then until we feel it now. And other times it's our memory that lies.
Part of the film's genius is how the director never takes sides. See how earnestly he presents both arguments, how he thoroughly understands them despite how gendered they are. We feel his betrayal and her withheld embrace. Women understand, and men are led to understand, Nicole when she mourns the shriveling of her career. Vice versa for Charlie's disappointments. There may not be a more demanding vocation than motherhood—why does she struggle to accept only that, she asks? She admires George Harrison's wife, his quiet advocate, then "can't even remember her name."
Charlie, in his estimation, has made his own sacrifices out of love for her. Starlets have thrown themselves at him since he's become a hot theatre director, but he loved only her throughout his virile youth. It's even clearer to us they are indeed a New York family. All this is, though, especially impressive on Nicole's side, since Baumbach is reaching across the aisle.
Los Angeles and New York serve as the battleground to great effect. All the talk of LA—you'll love the extra space—clearly emphasizes the restriction Nicole feels in New York, in her ex's shadow.
The small touches like that astound. Navigating the immediate aftermath of their separation, she calls him "the opposite of my fiancé." The lawyer's throw pillow reads "Eat, drink, remarry." (It reminded me of the real estate agent's billboard on I-95: "Don't get divorced—get a bigger house!") There's the PETA prophet hawking the subway who doesn't care you've just been outfoxed in family court. Baumbach knows his actors (especially Driver) and how to draw on their innate personalities for effect. What a triumphant reminder that you can still take a tragic subject and film it and write it with enough zest for us to enjoy ourselves along the way.
Is it all about the writing? Not even close. The script—fit for the stage and play-like in feel, though never unnatural—makes Marriage Story a sumptuous feast for actors. It was scarcely two days ago that I admired but still questioned Driver's contribution to a joyless work, The Report. Let it be known now: He may well win the Academy Award for this one.
Nominations are assured. In fact, it's feasible the film will win three acting Oscars. Scarlett Johansson tops her Match Point and Lost in Translation performances and has every route to the statuette that Driver does. To say Laura Dern takes over her scenes would not be just to Johansson—but her powerful lawyer evokes the rushes of emotion from Nicole that otherwise may have remained hidden. A confidant with a battle cry. Can Ray Liotta earn a nod for just two scenes? I doubt it, but he goes toe-to-toe with Dern in the courtroom and earns big laughs earlier.
For a story like this, rooted in ordinary life, the only way to get the big picture right is to let the small logistical pieces add up. You only know what those are from experience. That makes Baumbach's work a spellbinding personal essay, every bit a hearty memorial as it is a lament. He has been among the acting troupe watching the imperiled airliner try to land, and has been Charlie trying to land it intact.
Failing that miracle, it's time to save what can be saved. Somewhere innocents perish, nations crumble, character erodes, and yet seeing this couple at their finest we are left savoring their joy and wondering how anything could be more tragic than the death of a life together.
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