The Tragic, Tender Resonance of Marriage Story

Divorce is not a topic you’ll see in many movies. Yet nearly fifty per cent of all marriages end in divorce –it’s something that impacts a lot of peoples’ lives deeply, but rarely shows up in film because it isn’t comforting. Nobody likes the divorce process; it comes with so much anger and hurt and misery. If you buy into the idea of movies as escapism, as fantasy, then it’s the last thing you want to see represented therein. Marriage Story, the latest film from Noah Baumbach, is a film about a divorce, about a couple trying to civilly sort out their separation and custody of their child amidst diverging careers on opposite coasts, and their failures to do so. That anger and hurt and misery is all on display it’s true, but so is an inordinate amount of compassion and humanity as the film charts the attempts of Nicole (Scarlett Johansson), a former teen star turned serious actress, and Charlie (Adam Driver), an off-Broadway theatre director, to reorient their lives, maintain a degree of normalcy, and deal with the emotional fallout of their relationship as they negotiate the guardianship of their young son Henry (Azhy Robertson).

It’s not the first time Baumbach has made a movie about divorce of course, The Squid and the Whale having been based on the dissolution of his own parents’ marriage. That film however took the childrens’ point of view while this one is squarely focussed on the parents’ –now from the vantage point of Baumbach’s own divorce. And that experience appears to be what really gives the film its astute empathy for both characters, and even though it seems to favour one, is very fair on the feelings and desires of the other. It’s a beautifully written movie, from the scenes early on that give insight into the sweeter, loving sides of the marriage to its articulations of why they left each other and ultimately the inflamed passions of their custody battle. Obviously written with a desire to come across authentically, what gives Marriage Story an added resonance is how the script utilizes the tedium and draining nature of the process of divorce to the advantage of illustrating more Nicole and Charlie’s emotional conflict. It’s exceptionally raw and bitter, Baumbach at one point scripting perhaps the greatest spousal argument scene since Before Midnight, but it’s also strangely sombre and tragic: in how the movie opens with a portrait of love and tenderness that echoes throughout the story, how it concentrates on the little nuances in Charlie’s relationship with Henry -not ever as close as he wants it to be, and how as selfish and stubborn as he is, Charlie is never coded the “bad guy”, as is often the case in such stories.

Part of this comes down to Adam Driver, now on his fourth collaboration with Baumbach, delivering perhaps his best performance yet. His calm and perceptively indifferent demeanour mask a deep melancholy and a fear of loss that Driver accentuates through a simple line delivery or detail of body language otherwise difficult to keep organic. Charlie’s every frustration is keenly felt, his resistance to admit defeat is understood, and his attachment to his work and company, what keeps him from making a commitment of moving to L.A. where Nicole must put down roots, is very reasonable. The fact he’s likeable and sympathetic at all is impressive given the distress he ignorantly put Nicole through, that he can be a heartbreaking presence in a situation he’s arguably responsible for is a miracle. Opposite Driver and giving an equally phenomenal performance is Scarlett Johansson in her most grounded role in a long time, despite playing a promising TV star. Nicole is in some ways the easier part of the two given how her career ambition and how it’s often neutered by Charlie is such a supportable side to be on from the get-go, and yet Johansson succeeds at making her a relatable, nuanced figure whose dreams of returning to L.A. and getting the opportunity to direct (something that isn’t brought up enough in the interactions between the former couple) are not only valid, but feel achingly personal. You’re brought into the complex spectrum of her emotions through a roughly five minute monologue delivered in a single take of her relating the fluctuations of her relationship with Charlie that is one of the best pieces of acting I’ve seen all year. Those complexities are just beneath the surface of Nicole throughout the film: she doesn’t entirely know how to feel about Charlie and it’s both engaging and subtly devastating.

Because one thing the movie makes crystal clear is that it wouldn’t have been unfeasible for Nicole and Charlie to make their marriage work. If they had made a few more concessions, if Charlie had spent more time bonding with Henry, if they had visited L.A. and Nicole’s family there more often, if they had at least talked more about their feelings. You don’t leave the film wanting them to get back together (by the end that bridge is thoroughly burned), but rather contemplating as they do with curiosity and pathos what might have been.

Despite such bleakness though, the movie has more colours to it. The film is part comedy after all, Baumbach as usual infusing the dialogue with rich and clever, yet fairly natural humour. There are a couple great comic scenes between Nicole and her family, an eccentric and Charlie-loving mother played by Julie Hagerty, and an anxious sister played by Merritt Weaver. Charlie too has a gang of idiosyncratic sidekicks in his theatre group led by an always wonderful Wallace Shawn, who I’m convinced is playing himself. A sequence near the climax involving a deadpan custody evaluator played by Martha Kelly is incredibly funny, and there’s even a great degree of comedy to the awkwardness in Nicole and Charlie’s new relationship that offsets the dramatic and emotional subject matter. As with everything in the film, there’s special care with how the comic relief is written. I’d be remiss too not to mention a great Laura Dern, as Nicole’s extremely competent but subtly aggressive lawyer, and a still remarkable Alan Alda as Charlie’s soft and sensible one –replacing a crass and dirty Ray Liotta whom he initially turns to.

Marriage Story is Baumbach’s best movie since Frances Ha, being for divorcing artists in their thirties what that film was for aspiring artists in their twenties. It’s a gut-punch of a slew of emotions that you can’t quite reconcile by the end, much like Nicole and Charlie, but also a stirringly bold and intimately bittersweet story of two people who loved each other once, trying to move forward in a world where they don’t.

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