Coastal View News
Hollywood likes making movies about it itself. About the
woes of its stars. About how they’ve got all sorts of totally relatable normal-person
problems. But also about how they’re transcendent—tortured, brilliant,
thoughtful, flawed like the Greek gods were flawed, tragic, powerful, and, in
the end, too big for this world. Hollywood likes making movies like this. And
then they pat themselves on the back and give golden statues to each other for
how awesome they are.
How unbearable. Or so I say.
“Marriage Story” is about the crumbling marriage of
Charlie (Adam Driver) and Nicole (Scarlett Johansson). Charlie is a successful
theater director in New York. Nicole is a successful actress, previously in New
York, now in L.A. They once shared their dreams, aspirations, hopes, and struggles
with each other. They had chemistry too. And a kid. But they’ve since drifted
apart.
At first they aim for an amicable split. Neither wants to
crush the other, and they agree that they should share time with their son,
Henry (Azhy Robertson). They even talk about getting neighboring apartments in
New York and still being friends.
I guess the turning point, though, is when Nicole retains
high-powered divorce lawyer, Nora Fanshaw (Laura Dern). Nora Fanshaw doesn’t do
amicable, crush-free splits. She says she does. She smiles and talks and coos
and soothes like she does. But the whole point of signing up with Nora is to
win. Nicole still isn’t exactly all about winning at this point. But, hey, why
not?
Charlie is dumbstruck. He thought they were going to do
this the easy way. He thought, no lawyers. He thought they were going to stay
friends—that they’d still see each other, that he’d see even Nicole’s family
from time to time, and that things would be more-or-less the same except that
they could each go out and play as they wish.
Not anymore. At first, Nora seems to be playing nice, so
Charlie settles on a cheaper, second-rate lawyer, Bert Spitz (Alan Alda). But
once he realizes that Nora’s compassionate, totally rad, totally woke, totally reasonable
demeanor is just a means to gradually obtain unconditional surrender, Charlie
lawyers up for real with pit bull, Jay Marotta (Ray Liotta).
Then things get messy. And expensive. And embarrassing.
Accusations fly, tall tales are told, harms are exaggerated. It’s a blood bath.
Charlie and Nicole, who were once totally amicable, start
to get into the act too (they’re good at such things, after all). They start to
internalize this phony anger and injustice. They stroke their egos and stoke
their self-importance, buying into the idea that the other was the only thing
holding them back, and is now the only
thing holding them back, from … I don’t know what. Happiness? Further stardom?
More money?
Charlie moans that he was a hot young director in his
twenties in New York and could have had unending sexual conquests if it weren’t
for Nicole. (Cry me a river.) Nicole groans that, upon further reflection, she
would have liked to leave their exciting life in New York for extended jaunts
in L.A. … if only Charlie would have let her. (Boo hoo.)
Sorry if I’m not sympathetic. I get that movie stars and
Broadway directors are people too. And I get that they feel pain and have
problems. But it’s hard (for me, at least) to get too invested in these bored rich-person
problems. Like, O.K. Charlie, you could have been sleeping around. Good for
you. And wow, Nicole, it must have been so tough to have only one home that 95% of the population can’t
afford.
There is a fine line between self-awareness/self-realization
and self-indulgence. It’s fine, even good, to reflect on one’s desires, preferences,
and goals, and to try one’s best to soar to new heights. But at a certain point
it’s like, O.K., shut up and get back to reality now.
There are various tender, authentic, even compelling
moments in “Marriage Story”. Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson are, of course,
magnetic. And the Woody-Allen-esque writing is crisp and engaging. The movie is
at its best when the context kind of fades out and it seems like a normal
family story—with real-life heartbreaks, challenges, and disappointments.
Which isn’t to imply that famous people can’t really be
disappointed, challenged, or heart broken. It’s just that this Oscar-nominated
marriage story is largely unrecognizable (and maybe should be unrecognizable) for most of us. Yes, divorce is very,
very real for many, many of us. As are custody battles, court hearings, child
support, and the like. But all this hand wringing over time tragically lost by golden
gods of the stage and screen—give me a break.
