I had seen it on Netflix’s new release carousel for weeks, and it seemed like everyone was talking about it on social media. But I just wasn’t sure if I could separate Adam Driver’s new character of a wounded husband from his most recent role as Kylo Ren in “Star Wars.” Previously, I had only known Driver as a lightsaber wielding agent of the dark side. However, within the first twenty minutes of “Marriage Story,” I was completely enthralled with Driver’s performance and his ability to make me believe it was real.
It’s a film about a marriage falling apart, starring Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson, whose characters are coming to terms with their split while trying to maintain some sort of functioning family system for their young son, Henry. It explores the tragedy of a ruined relationship, the dark underbelly of divorce in the legal system, home visits from CPS and the tedious balance between loving a child because they’re yours and vindictively pitting them against the other parent, so you come out on top.
As a very basic plot breakdown, Johansson’s character, Nicole, moves back to Los Angeles to rekindle her acting career, leaving Driver’s character, Charlie, and everything they own, including a theater company, back in New York. At first, the space gives Nicole a chance to breathe and come back into her own in a way as she manages to land the main role in a television show. But, the emotional and physical separation only makes the cracks bigger and the pain deeper for both parties.
Nicole experiences something I think most people think about at some point in their lives: an aching curiosity about what could have been. If she had made different choices as a young adult, where would she be? What if she hadn’t sacrificed so much of her life, her own desires and her acting career to be a mother and to be with Charlie? Conversely, what if Charlie hadn’t chosen to settle down in the heat of the moment? Perhaps his promising talent as a playwright all those years ago would have taken him somewhere else instead of working hard to keep their small apartment and still end up sleeping on the couch.
Although I have never been married, and I’m sure a divorce is another pain entirely, I have been through some deeply hurtful and saddening breakups, and this movie tugged on every one of those emotions and memories. During the stressful court proceedings for custody of Henry, Charlie and Nicole have a massive fallout in Charlie’s new, but barren apartment. He can’t afford a good lawyer, he doesn’t see his son, he flies back and forth from Los Angeles to New York bi-weekly, and finally, in the tensest scene of the movie, he punches a hole in the wall and yells at his wife that he regrets asking for her hand in marriage and even wishes she were dead. Charlie’s face red and veins bulging, he screams at her, “If I could guarantee Henry would be okay, I’d hope you get an illness and then get hit by a car and die!”
They are both clearly taken aback at his violent outburst and stare at each other for a while before Charlie sinks to the floor racked with sobs, telling her, “I’m sorry.” That was the moment in the movie that finally got me, and I teared up watching the characters embrace in the middle of an empty living room. I know that feeling all too well of letting your anger and frustration get the better of you, letting yourself scream and shout horrendous and wounding things at the person you supposedly love, because while you do love them, you also just really, really hate them in that moment. But after it’s settled down and the room has gone quiet and you can’t take the words back, you’re overwhelmed with the most despairing and sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, not quite sure if you meant it or not.
While “Marriage Story” isn’t a walk in the park, happy-go-lucky type of movie, it’s raw and powerful. It’s a glimpse at the couple’s internal juxtaposition; regret at missing major parts of their lives because of a young and thoughtless choice to marry, but a thankfulness to have known each other and shared a family. That while you’ve given years of your life to someone and carried a relationship that wasn’t all bad but not all good, and despite your very best effort, it still ends in profound heartbreak. Between the scenes of remembering the passionate good and fighting in a bleak apartment, it is a gentle reminder that grief and gratitude can coexist. That although you still have to get in your car and drive back to your own place, cook dinner for one and crawl into bed alone, you really did love them at some point, even though it seems like a long time ago. And that’s still something to appreciate.
Photo by Creative Commons
