{"id":7157,"date":"2016-01-12T04:20:41","date_gmt":"2016-01-12T08:20:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/arts.umich.edu\/ink\/?p=7157"},"modified":"2016-01-12T04:20:49","modified_gmt":"2016-01-12T08:20:49","slug":"weekend-watch-carol","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/artsatmichigan.umich.edu\/ink\/2016\/01\/12\/weekend-watch-carol\/","title":{"rendered":"Weekend Watch: \u201cCarol\u201d"},"content":{"rendered":"

I\u2019ve always had very particular beliefs about what makes a romance movie work. The problem with many romantic arcs, both in movies and on TV, is that the characters are given no time to breathe, to authentically develop their chemistry and learn why<\/em> they are in love with each other. My favorite romances tend to feature lots of dialogue, lots of cutesy flirting and just normal conversation<\/em>. My favorite romance movie ever is \u201cBefore Sunrise,\u201d a movie completely turned over to one long conversation. I want to see the characters get to know each other. I don\u2019t want the show to just assume we\u2019re invested in the romance because we\u2019re supposed to be.<\/p>\n

But \u201cCarol\u201d violates most of my notions of what a romance should be, and it\u2019s still a great romance film. There isn\u2019t much dialogue; Carol and Therese\u2019s connection isn\u2019t completely obvious based on what they say to each other. Most of my favorite romance movies are rom-coms, because when the characters are funny\u2014especially with each other\u2014it becomes so much easier to be invested in them. But \u201cCarol\u201d is very low on laughs, not quite dour, but serious.<\/p>\n

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Everything plays out with little visual and auditory hints. A hand brushing another, lingering briefly before dropping. Many, many long stares, full of unspeakable passion. All the sound in the room being sucked away, only silence and another woman\u2019s face, smiling in slow motion. As A.O. Scott said, it\u2019s \u201ca symphony of angles and glances, of colors and shadows.\u201d<\/p>\n

Film critic Ignatiy Vishnevetsky, when talking about \u201cCarol,\u201d said that it\u2019s easier for him to intellectually appreciate director Todd Haynes\u2019s movies than to really love them, really feel for the characters. I can empathize with this point of view; while I really enjoyed \u201cCarol,\u201d I\u2019m not sure I\u2019d say I love it. It never really reaches the emotional highs for me that \u201cBrooklyn\u201d did this year, for example. There is a certain muted quality to it that created a slight distance for me\u2014I never really came close to crying, for example. I got the sense that this was a movie concerned more with immersive details than go-for-broke melodramatic tear-jerking moments. In fact, I suspect it might be more affecting upon a second watch, when you can really sink into the immersive scenes even more. Still, I think it\u2019s way too far to call the film \u2018cold\u2019 or \u2018clinical,\u2019 two words I\u2019ve seen thrown around a bit.<\/p>\n

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Because \u201cCarol\u201d is<\/em> so restrained, though, it results in some really powerful moments once the characters really express their feelings. In a movie with little dialogue that blatantly states the character\u2019s feelings, Carol\u2019s early musing that Therese is \u201cflung from space\u201d is surprisingly honest, concisely illustrating the awe and surprise Carol feels at this strange, beautiful new woman in her life.<\/p>\n

And the visual aesthetic makes it possible for the few truly affecting scenes to sneak up on you and hit you hard. The grainy film fits with the period setting perfectly, and it seems to suit whatever emotion the characters are feeling; when Therese is sad, the shimmering film feels unstable, almost suggesting the blur of tears, but when she feels happy and horny and enamored, the lights seem to glow warm and the grain seems to simulate the dizzy fervor of falling in love. The escalation of Therese and Carol\u2019s sexual tension is tangible; by the time they\u2019re trying on makeup together, it\u2019s almost unbearable.<\/p>\n

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It must be said that much of the success of the movie, aside from Haynes\u2019s perfect direction, lies in the performances of Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett. Blanchett has proven her talent countless times by now, but it really is difficult to see anyone else in the role. She just brings this instant captivatingly seductive quality to the screen. Mara, too, is amazing\u2014she probably won\u2019t get as much attention (I hate the idea that they\u2019re campaigning for a Supporting Actress nomination for the Oscars), but she\u2019s so perfect at achieving this very specific kind of balance. On the one hand, she\u2019s kind of the inactive protagonist character\u2014not a bland<\/em> role, per se, but the one with less of a dominating, flashy personality. She\u2019s awkward and embarrassed and still figuring out herself. She pulls the role off great with adorable little touches. The whole scene in at lunch, you can see Therese so nervous and desperate to impress Carol, and Mara\u2019s expressions are perfect. She balances that more traditional role, though, with a very specific kind of attractiveness that naturally appeals to Carol; Mara\u2019s face has this mysterious elfin quality that recalls that same alien image mentioned earlier (maybe the same reason she was chosen for \u201cThe Girl with the Dragon Tattoo\u201d and \u201cSide Effects\u201d).<\/p>\n

In the hands of Blanchett and Mara, the inevitable sex scene feels truly cathartic, erotic and dreamlike in a way that feels different from most movies, even with Blanchett\u2019s lack of nudity and the relatively short length. It\u2019s magical from the very beginning, when Carol slowly unravels her robe while standing behind Therese, another moment that seems huge just because of how understated the film is. And the sex scene itself has a quality of relief to it, charged with passion and sexiness but layered over with that same silky, warm, borderline-surreal quality that the grainy film has helped create throughout the movie. The upside-down shots of them kissing only underscore that feeling.<\/p>\n

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Finally, there\u2019s the last sequence, when the narrative returns to its starting point: Therese and Carol eating dinner together. At first, I was a little skeptical of the use of a framing device in this type of understated romantic drama, but I began to appreciate it once I realized its use. The first time we saw the scene, it didn\u2019t seem like a very critical scene; Therese and Carol were eating dinner together, then Carol left early so Therese could hang out with her friends. You could tell there were some conflicted feelings going on, but it didn\u2019t feel crucial. Now we watch again, with Therese and Carol seeing each other for the first time in a long time, and we see how far the dynamics have shifted. Carol is the vulnerable one here, obliviously asking Therese to move in with her despite all that has changed between them. And Therese, though this clearly means a lot to her, is hardened to it all. Carol was such an enigmatic figure of power at the beginning, instantly commanding the attention of both Therese and the audience, but now, Therese stares right back at her, full of hurt but more confident, resolved to do what\u2019s best for herself.<\/p>\n

And then Carol says, \u201cI love you.\u201d<\/p>\n

It\u2019s possibly the most powerful moment in the whole film, what all this was building towards. What struck me the most, though, weren\u2019t the words, though they were clearly essential to the scene, essential the sense of catharsis after two hours of searching for the words and failing. What struck me the most was the moment that lingered after. Silence. It stretches on, maybe only a couple seconds, but it feels like infinity. I wish I could re-watch the scene, because I might be remembering something that wasn\u2019t there, but everything felt like it was shimmering\u2014once again, everything else disappears but Carol, the only sound this kind of entrancing, subtle vibration.<\/p>\n

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And then the man from the opening scene calls, \u201cTherese?\u201d And you know it\u2019s coming, because you remember that first scene, but it still feels like everything is suddenly vaporized and gone, like you\u2019re lying in a bed with your eyes closed and listening to your iPod playing your favorite song and filling you up from every angle of the universe, and then someone yanks your earphones out. Startling. Shattering.<\/p>\n

The scenes that follow maintain that power. Therese goes to a party, but she\u2019s distracted. And then, of course, she goes to meet Carol, like she must. She crosses the room towards Carol\u2019s table, and once again there\u2019s that woozy dreamlike feeling. The camera is showing you Therese\u2019s point of view, like the very first time she looked across the department store and saw Carol. You\u2019re moving through the restaurant as if in a daze, with people all around you but all equally insignificant. Your vision is blurred, focused only on the one thing that you need on the other side, and you feel both like you\u2019re moving far too fast, approaching this terrifying and beautiful thing at an alarming rate, and like you\u2019re moving through molasses, never able to get there quick enough.<\/p>\n

But then Carol raises her head, just an inch, only just enough to catch your eye. She looks up at you, and her eyes slowly, slowly, slowly crinkle, her lips slowly, slowly, slowly curl into a smile.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s subtle. It\u2019s restrained. It\u2019s a little withholding. But it\u2019s beautiful. It\u2019s \u201cCarol.\u201d<\/p>\n

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I\u2019ve always had very particular beliefs about what makes a romance movie work. The problem with many romantic arcs, both in movies and on TV, is that the characters are given no time to breathe, to authentically develop their chemistry and learn why they are in love with each other. My favorite romances tend to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2178,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/artsatmichigan.umich.edu\/ink\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7157"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/artsatmichigan.umich.edu\/ink\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/artsatmichigan.umich.edu\/ink\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artsatmichigan.umich.edu\/ink\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2178"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artsatmichigan.umich.edu\/ink\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7157"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/artsatmichigan.umich.edu\/ink\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7157\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7159,"href":"https:\/\/artsatmichigan.umich.edu\/ink\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7157\/revisions\/7159"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/artsatmichigan.umich.edu\/ink\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7157"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artsatmichigan.umich.edu\/ink\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7157"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artsatmichigan.umich.edu\/ink\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7157"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}