PaleyFilms

Simply put, Blue Valentine is not an easy movie to watch. The film is a laborious display of a marriage from inception to downfall, and feels painfully realistic. Director Derek Cianfrance does the task of showing matrimony in the least synthetic and sentimental way possible, aided by the film’s doomed couple, played by Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams.

The film succeeds mainly because of its raw performances. If any pair of actors in a 2010 film has chemistry, it has to be Gosling and Williams. Gosling is Dean, an irresponsible but loving husband who constantly uses desperate methods to try to repair his marriage, while Williams is Cindy, a tired wife who knows that she is falling out of love with her spouse. Not only does each actor give an independently tremendous performance, the raw honesty brought to screen fizzles like baking soda and vinegar. When the doomed pair falls in love, you believe it; when things go downhill for them, you feel it with them. Neither puts a single toe out of step with his/her character’s personality, bringing about two of the most dedicated acting turns of the past few years.

Realistic dialogue contributes to the movie’s power. Most of the conversations between characters feel improvised, with an emphasis on naturalism that elicits believable emotions. Despite having a slight “indie” vibe, the film is never tacky, and rarely resorts to quirk. Additionally, its structure is well edited; flashbacks are appropriately timed to correspond with current situations. The usage of cutting directly from abysmal marriage problems to happy courtship flashbacks makes the couple’s falling out profound and heart-wrenching.

Cianfrance does not chicken out by setting his film in a mainstream mold; rather, he uses totally depressing scenarios in service of tasteful cinema. The movie might as well be titled Black Valentine, as its somber tone may leave viewers cold inside. Nevertheless, the director still manages to make his project a delicate cautionary tale, rather than an exercise in cruelty. This is not torture porn; it is high art.

The only fault to bestow upon this extremely well-crafted movie is that it runs too long. There are several scenes near the end which are (done purposely or not) false endings. Because the story’s outcome is so bleakly obvious, less exposition and closure may have suited the film better. Nevertheless, perhaps the additional run-time is fitting for a picture as emotionally draining as this. Deep down, I would like to believe that Cianfrance was trying to make the audience experience the same tedium his characters feel. The film’s final shot is artfully melancholic, allowing the ending to be beautiful and sad, rather than just weakly fizzling out.

Blue Valentine is a film that most will probably respect more than they enjoy. Derek Cianfrance presents a bold, uncompromising vision of a dying relationship, brought to life by two wonderful performances. It is beautifully acted, directed and edited, and manages to be extremely watchable, despite pulling no punches. Certain scenes will reach into your chest and tear your heart out, an indication of a wholly effective drama.

When taking a look at Darren Aronofsky’s filmography, The Wrestler seems to fit in less than the others. After all, his debut film Pi and its successor Requiem for a Dream make for unsubtle and intense movie-watching experiences, while The Fountain is a visually stunning experiment. More recently, with Black Swan, Aronofsky has combined film-making styles and created a piece of cinema that is both viscerally and aesthetically pleasing. His fourth feature, however, proves that he is a rare breed of director; one that can step out of his comfort zone and deliver something subtle and touching, yet still riveting.

Professional wrestler Randy “The Ram” Robinson (Mickey Rourke) is past his prime and has many personal and financial woes. When health issues force him to retire from the ring, Randy attempts to pull his life together. He tries reuniting with his estranged daughter (Evan Rachel Wood), takes a stab at fueling a romantic relationship with aging stripper, Cassidy (Marisa Tomei), and begins to work extra hours at his local supermarket’s deli counter. The sadness of being a has-been wrestler, faced with day to day troubles permeates every pore of this touching character study.

While not as showy as in his other movies, Aronofsky’s directing chops are in top form. The film is shot using mainly hand-held cameras, adding grittiness and realism to the story’s emotional thrust. While more actor-centric than director-based, Aronofsky still employs some interesting stylistic touches. For example, in almost all of the many scenes involving somebody walking, the camera faces the person’s back. The camerawork is a constant reminder that as good as the film’s acting is, there is an adept man pulling the strings.

Mickey Rourke’s performance can barely be put into words, it is so astounding. The man does not play Randy “The Ram” Robinson, he is “The Ram.” From perfect subtle facial expressions to emotional outbursts, Rourke brings realism and sorrow to this once in a lifetime role. Because the lead actor is never a harbinger of cloying sentimentality, he gives a brutally raw and honest performance. Supporting ladies Tomei and Wood are terrific as well, bringing everything they can to their roles, and more. Tomei’s aging stripper is a perfect foil to Rourke’s aging wrestler, while Wood is completely believable as the angry daughter who has avoided contact with her irresponsible father.

The film stands as a brilliant study of a beaten down and bruised wrestler, fueled by a pivotal performance of Mickey Rourke’s career, as well as extremely good turns from his supporting women. With The Wrestler, Darren Aronofsky has proven that he is not restricted to making visceral excitement, but can do nuanced work if he wants. The direction and cinematography are not disruptive to the movie’s flow, but rather, help add to its painful realism. Handled by someone less talented than Aronofsky, The Wrestler would probably cross into sentimentality in the most manipulative ways possible.  As sad as much of the film’s subject material is, its point is clear: it’s better to burn out than to fade away.