to make these nightmares go away
and I cut my bleedin' heart out every nite
and I die a little more on each st. valentine day"
- Blue Valentine
- Tom Waits
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Derek Cianfrance has been hovering just under the mainstream radar since scooping a bounty of awards at the indie fests for his feature debut Brother Tied, which he wrote, directed and edited in 1998 at the tender age of 23.
Over the past twelves years of making shorts and lending his craft to television documentaries, Cianfrance has been secretly working on Blue Valentine- perfecting a script which, for all its 66 geneses, demanded extensive improvisation from leads Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams.
Blue Valentine depicts one relationship in two time frames- the molten marriage/ the blossoming romance. These two narrative channels are linked with seamless matching shots, at points the characters seeming to stare at their future/past selves asking "who do I become?" and in turn, "how did I learn to hate you?".
We are but voyeurs to a breakdown. Scenes are natural, but concise. Subtext dominates every married scene; Cindy's passive hostility tempting Dean's rejected frustration to breaking point. This is about how love changes when people change, how we can become trapped by what we do in the moment.
Gosling, having intelligently shuffled away from the heartthrob status he earned in 2004's schmaltzy tear-jerker The Notebook, is subtle and brilliant. The physical transformation from coy Brooklyn removal guy to balding big-hearted trailer-trash is almost as impressive as his performance, ranging from a sweet, smitten father, to pathetic over-possessive drunk.
But Williams is no less the star here. She smoulders behind her eyes with resentment, then sparkles with the hopeful promise of being won. Cindy's loss of love is not down to Dean's complacency, but his inability to fulfil a promise that he never made. She is her own undoing. She traps herself willingly, though sympathetically, by being emotionally incapable of completing the abortion of Dean's child.
Not only does Cindy feel trapped by this person who seemed to enter her life so quickly, she is trapped by the town that she was supposed to escape. The older Cindy does go through medical school and become a doctor, but she is still living where she grew up. The older Dean, however, is happy to remain there. He's still a removal guy, claiming- much to his wife's disgust- that one of the benefits is the ability to drink a beer in the morning.
This is no Revolutionary Road. Underlying tensions are pushed to breaking point. In the most powerful scene, Dean tries desperately to instigate sex with Cindy in the shower of their romantic retreat. She turns away again and again and you can see his heartbreak growing but still he gets to his knees and puts his head between her legs. The way that she grabs his hair and pulls him away, trying not to be violent, trying to hint, when really she wants to scream out loud but all she can do is scream inside, is soul destroying.
During the 'flashback' parts of the narrative, however, we see sweet, natural, non-sentimental romance. Twee gestures come from humble protagonists, such as Dean's serenading Cindy on the street with a ukelele ("Sorry but I can only sing stupid") while she performs a little dance, to his selection of an obscure motown number to soundtrack their lustful sex. He pursues her with the energy of a small dog and the conviction of a boy who has fallen in love. These lovers set in direct contrast against their future selves are almost unrecognisable, but the transformation is fully believable.
This relationship is so real, so true, that it is impossible to not see a reflection of your own life in at least one stage of Dean and Cindy's story. It is not always an easy film to watch, but it is very affecting.
My only criticism: it feels perhaps a touch overlong at two hours.
I would find it hard to watch this film again soon because it felt like I too were experiencing a marital breakdown. These characters are so vulnerable, so emotionally exposed, that you feel their pain on their behalf. The quality of the writing is evident in its refusal to make you take sides. Neither character is guiltless; neither character lacks the capacity to love or be loved. Both of them want something that is gone.
Great cinema rips your heart out, shows it to you, then stuffs it back in.
Blue Valentine brought up memories that I was yet to put to rest, but it has actually helped me deal with them. I have been both Dean and Cindy. Most of us have.
Therein lies the excellence of this sad, beautiful film.
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