Rated R for strong graphic sexual content, language and a beating
Cast: Ryan Gosling, Michelle Williams, Faith Wladyka, John Doman, Mike Vogel
Director: Derek Cianfrance
"Blue Valentine" has been described as a movie illustrating the dissolution of a marriage. It is, but it felt more to me like the dissection of the marriage. We're shown the day-to-day lives of two lovers at two very different parts of their relationship. At its inception and yes, at its unfortunate conclusion.
This is a different movie than, say, "Revolutionary Road" where Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet seemed hellbent on each other's personal annihilation. That movie was like "The War of the Roses" without the jokes. This one feels less agenda-driven. There are some emotionally harrowing scenes for sure but there are also sweet, gentle moments. The film isn't anti-love. It acknowledges the pain, the loss, the ultimate heartache, but those possibilities are already embedded in the territory. The movie is a celebration of risk. If it takes itself extremely seriously, that's because love is a serious business.
The scenes where the couple first meet aren't really shown in flashback. These are parallel stories, allowing the viewer to observe how lines of connection open between young lovers whose adolescent fears and confusion are offset by life's possibilities. We're then made to watch as those same lines have broken down when one of the lovers feels unacknowledged not only by her mate, but by life itself. If it's true that we take a chance on marriage because we want a witness to our life, how crushing it must be when our witness stops paying attention.
Director and co-writer Derek Cianfrance makes an intriguing narrative decision... he opts to begin with the couple later in life. We see them one morning. Dean (Ryan Gosling) seems like a perfectly nice husband. There's an innocent exuberance in his rapport with his little girl Frankie (Faith Wladyka). He wakes his wife Cindy (Michelle Williams) by playfully tossing his daughter upon her. Father and daughter share a slew of giggles, but Cindy isn't amused. At breakfast, she chastises them for playing with their food instead of eating it, and laments about how she is raising "two kids instead of one." She seems unusually bitter at first, until we realize that Dean isn't at all tuned in to her frustration. We begin to gain a broader perspective.
They try to regain a sense of closeness by checking into a third-rate, cheesy "romantic" hotel, but to no avail. Her emotional needs aren't being met, and she's reluctant to bring up the subject. "Whenever I say something, you twist it around and make it sound like I did something wrong," she tells him.
Those scenes are intercut with the couple when they first meet years earlier. Things aren't all roses for them as adolescents, either. He has recently dropped out of high school, and has now found employment as a furniture mover. She is studying to be a doctor, but is still healing from emotional wounds suffered at the hands of a verbally abusive father. They meet at a retirement home where Cindy cares for her grandmother. Dean is eager to get to know her. She is suspicious. But her current boyfriend is inattentive and increasingly disinterested. Possibility wins out, and Cindy drops her defenses.
They share some truly special moments. My favorite takes place at a storefront late at night. Dean asks her to dance for him. She tells him there's no music. He offers to play his ukulele and sing while she dances. Cindy is reluctant at first, but agrees. It's a wonderful moment. Not because it's a display of amazing artistic talent, but because of the unbridled vulnerability on display. Totally open to one another. A full-on surrender. Young people may scoff at scenes like that, but when you're at an age where the thought of laying your vulnerabilities at the mercy of another person seems like a relic from a past life, moments like that are a stent for the human soul.
Of course, being young and in love does lead to unwise decision-making. Theirs is when Dean suggests they get married after discovering Cindy is pregnant with her ex-boyfriend's baby. Sounds romantic when you're a vibrant youth, but it's the absolute wrong reason to venture into matrimony.
Which brings us back to them later in life. I've heard some critics say the movie is about how she falls out of love while he remains in love and committed to her. I disagree with this. He may well be in love, but he's in love with an ideal... not with the person she has become. At one point, she tries explaining that he has so much potential to be more but doesn't seem committed to any particular personal goal. He takes offense... his family is his goal. "Potential? Potential for what? What does that even mean?" She's right. He has lost his sense of self, and has compensated by turning to the bottle and engaging in a kind of emotional full-court-press which is slowly suffocating her.
Their emotional distance finally boils to a rupture during a violent confrontation at her place of employment. "I can't do this anymore!" she screams. Pointing to her heart, she adds "There's nothing left here for you!" "You want to hit me?" he yells back, and we realize these two are no longer even listening to each other. There's no hope at this point.
I make it sound like a movie no young couple would ever want to see. I didn't find it quite as depressing as I thought I might. It acknowledges pain, but embraces risk. By the end we may ask ourselves why bother letting ourselves love another human being when everything can come crashing down so brutally. We needn't ask that question, however. It's pointless. We'll always take that chance when beckoned by possibility.
Love is one powerful sucker.
* * * 1/2 out of * * * * stars
