The fact that Marriage Story is freely available on Netflix and that it is one of the most triggering relationship films of the year makes it feel like the movie equivalent of the Ice Bucket Challenge for bored couples everywhere. Last week, plans fell through to go bowling and we had recently seen Marriage Story capture some accolades in Oscar Nominations, so against my better judgement, we subjected ourselves to yet another hyped Netflix movie. Reluctantly, I’ll say that it exceeded expectations and maybe even felt like a film I could revisit at a later date, when I am alone, unhappy, and nursing festering old wounds. Whatever the opposite of a chick-flick romcom is for people going through a lot is.
The film plays a bit of a game as a Rorschach test for the audience over which character is sympathetic, Charlie or Nicole. Wife says that one of the failings of the film is that both are so unlikable that you don’t actually root for either of them. It works insofar as each scene is a little battle for our attention, Nicole’s extended and unexpected monologue at her lawyer’s office, which sets the scene for us about the origins of their divorce. “Plus,” she quips at the end, “I think he’s fucking our stage manager.” The movie actually does a great job of teasing out the differing standards of emotional and sexual fidelity for men and women, there’s never really much moral weight attached to Charlie’s infidelity. He is appropriately cagey about it over the phone with Nicole when she confronts him about it, his lawyer is similarly cagey, repeating Charlie’s simpering accusation of “computer hacking” in court, and Nicole has her moment to rebound in some hipster’s car at a costume party, to make sure we even the scores decisively.
The film relies on the build up of goodwill by Charlie and Nicole early in the movie so that we can watch them implode in that powerful scene at Charlie’s apartment. Friend came and couldn’t sit through more than the first thirty minutes, because he didn’t want to see their relationship get any more shitty, which is a first in movie viewing with Friend. The banking of goodwill feels patient and measured in a similar but actually more impactful way than a movie like The Goldfinch.
The scene that elicits the most sympathy seems like Adam Driver getting sloppy Halloween seconds in unfamiliar LA neighborhoods–the five candies that his son drops on the floor is somehow worse than the one that we see him collect from a convenience store. And the family observer who visits Charlie at his home is maybe the cringiest scene which turns into the funniest scene, worth the price of admission (which in most people’s case I understand to be free anyway, but such is the mystery of Netflix).
Besides the dramatic work that both Johansson and Driver do, they both have standout musical scenes, which I think is one of the reasons why this movie may have distinguished itself to critics looking for deep and varied performances. Johansson’s feels more natural and earned, but when Driver has his karaoke moment in the spotlight, it’s already an established game for a scene that the movie has established, so it feels at the very least like a moment of rebalancing, a variation on a theme, rather than out of place.
All things considered, Marriage Story is a simple movie with modest ambitions and some novel stage directions that let characters explore the space for extended cuts. Its comic timing in the face of all sorts of nastiness is a gem.
