Marriage Story: The Sacrifice of Transactional Relationships vs. The Sanctity of the Human Bond Written by Suhana Danee1,2,3 1 Department of Cinema Studies Institute 2 Second-year undergraduate of Univeristy College, University of Toronto Marriage can be a beautiful thing. Two compatible souls, who share an everlasting, almost insurmountable, amount of love for each other are united. They make themselves at home in the warm sanctuary of each other’s quirks, despite how neurotic they might be. So these two people take a legal vow to love each other unconditionally, in sickness and in health, till death to them part. That is, until they file for divorce. Given that half of all marriages result in some form of separation, divorce has become an unfortunate common-law practice of today’s society. It has become so common that individuals regard the phenomenon as second nature, a seeming sixth sense of the human condition. As a result, divorce has lost all emotive meaning, except to those who have had to endure it. In Noah Baumbach’s Marriage Story (2019), the writer/director uses the power of dialogue, symbolism, and dualism to shape a narrative that reawakens society to what divorce truly is: an utterly complex crisis that demands a sacrifice of one’s way of life… and by extension aspects of their own persona. Baumbach makes it evident through the construction of Charlie and Nicole’s character arc that such a separation stems from reasons deeply rooted in a person’s psyche, and often has nothing to do with the absence of love. By the time the screen cuts to black, divorce does not seem so mundane anymore, but rather complicated beyond human conception.
Charlie and Nicole are good, normal people In Marriage Story, Baumbach highlights from the beginning that first impressions matter. He strives to create loving, positive bonds between the viewer and each protagonist in the first minutes of the running time. Through a series of montages voiced over by each other’s ex-spouse, the writer-director infuses each character with an irresistible persona by describing their mundanities, the endearing quirks that anchor them to the real world. Nicole can drive stick and open really tight jars, yet always forgets to close a cabinet or finish her brewed tea. Charlie cries in emotional movies and tries to conserve energy when he can, but is a little too competitive when it comes to playing Monopoly. Every characteristic showcased, even those that seem slightly peevish, is perceived as charming, especially when described by the person who is supposed to hate them the most. Yet this affectionate “real portrait” is a distant memory as the camera cuts to the duo, now angry, in a marriage counselor’s office. Oftentimes, such characteristic details become lost in the vortex of a film’s winding narrative, to be erased in the audience’s mind. Yet in Marriage Story, Baumbach insists on the prevalence of these quirks, digging them deeper and deeper into the body of the screenplay not only to secure Charlie and Nicole as compassionate humans, but to also remind the viewer of their inward benevolence as they become outwardly cruel. By establishing the prevalence of these habits in the opening act, the characters establish a line between the business of divorce and the sanctuary of their everlasting bond. These ‘inconsequential’ eccentricities symbolize the duality of their relationship as it becomes more complex, as shown through the film’s turning points. Screenwriters’ Perspectives Vol. 3 No. 1 2022
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