SPOILERS***

Fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce, which means fifty percent of America will probably connect with Blue Valentine on a deeper level. Throw in the percentage of people who have witnessed a crumbling marriage that never ended, and then include all those who actually went through either scenario. In any case, almost anyone can relate to the self-destructive nature of family, but hardly anybody has an antidote or can explain such devastation. Much like trying to define love and what makes that special person “the one”, explanations for what tears families apart varies from scenario to scenario. But more exasperating is our inability to pinpoint the problem, or understand exactly why two people can fall in love and eventually become complete strangers.

This very idea is explored in Blue Valentine. Well, as much as you can explore a problem with no definitive answer. Director/writer Derek Cianfrance clearly went through some sort of trauma involving romance because, although each marriage is different, there are always the subtle tell-tale signs. As somebody who witnessed a divorce, some of the situations felt all too familiar to me. Dean (Ryan Gosling) and Cindy (Michelle Williams) talk to each other without making eye contact; Cindy takes insults without hesitation, as though they are a part of the conversation; Dean tries to engage in romance, but Cindy always seems claustrophobic when near him, desperate for space; Cindy only smiles when others are around, but morose when alone with Dean. You recognize all these things, which isn’t particularly enervating, but when compared alongside flashbacks of the two’s first days together and coupled with a pair of dynamite performances, and the story become downright depressing.

Cindy and Dean constantly seem indifferent to one another, and only engage in an emotional discussion when it involves a fight. Compared to the beginning of their relationship, where each and every conversation was one of passion and revelations, and you recognize how far they’ve come. Cianfrance’s attention to detail makes these transitions all the more poignant, such as when Dean visits a man in a nursing home. He walks out the door, looks up and smiles, and then the camera cuts away to Cindy in the present. Of course Dean is looking at Cindy in the past, ignited by her youth and passion. But now Cindy better exemplifies a zombie, moving through work and grinding through the daily tasks. In the past, work was a distraction where the couple moved through quickly and rushed home to each other. In the present, Cianfrance takes the labor of subjecting us to their daily activities, concentrating on the meticulous tasks that seem innocuous: driving to work, smoking a cigarette, painting a wall, filling out forms. But really, these activities have become priority, filling the void young and exciting romance once stood.

The flashbacks and flash-forwards don’t represent the six year gap where the marriage decayed, but it almost seems redundant to discuss. I’ve read critics who disapprove of such a method, but why? Films like Revolutionary Road relish in such a period because of physically depressing situations. *REVOLUTIONARY ROAD SPOILERS* When April self-performs an abortion and dies because of it, it’s absolutely devastating, yet speaks volumes about her crumbling marriage with Frank. But it’s also a unique circumstance, more able in eliciting on-the-spot emotion and much more filmable. ***SPOILERS*** Dean and Cindy’s story isn’t filled with physically devastating scenarios, but instead it’s filled with much more familiar circumstances, where time simply tears away at the fabric. To be frank, the six year gap is completely unimportant. Blue Valentine exists in the moment, choosing to exist in two moments instead of one. Instead of one large story, it’s two stories that speak larger volumes about each other.

If you thought the color blue wouldn’t be a prominent mood setter in Blue Valentine, then you weren’t aware of the kind of movie you were getting into. Relating a melancholy, unavoidable vacuum, blue surrounds Cindy and Dean in their darkest moments. Even when they’re fighting, the mood seems destitute, deprived of any signs of life and pointing towards a tragic end. In the past, blue engulfs the first night Cindy and Dean spend together, yet somehow the mood seems light and adventurous. But the lurking color of blue in the past is accompanied by the color blue in the present, where dancing together represents two completely different couples in each scene. Other cool colors flood the background, and the setting itself almost becomes a character, acting as the outsider witnessing a couple who once couldn’t get enough of each other, but now moves through life without any memory of the past.

All of nuances that signal their crippling marriage simply wouldn’t be effective in the hands of the wrong actors. Gosling and Williams, who each typically take up roles involving realistic, in-the-flesh characters, display a chemistry that is unmatched by any pair of actors in the last ten years. We usually use “chemistry” to describe two individuals who fall in love, which is actually quite astonishing in Blue Valentine, as Gosling and Williams play off each other like two youths completely head over heels. But their range is put to the test when they alternatively occupy a couple dealing with years of strain. Of course they pull it off, being two of the best currently working actors. But their subtleties go a long way, such as Williams’ long, empty stares, or the desperateness in Gosling’s plea to save their marriage.

I read a review where it was suggested the film explored two different relationships, not a single one. While there’s no fucking way that’s true, I think it speaks volumes. This just may prove the reviewer grew up in a happy home, but it also displays the blatant disconnectedness employed by the film. There’s no wrap-ups, explanations or Hollywood endings, because it simply doesn’t exist. My parents split up after 26 years of marriage, and in that time, they went from lovestruck youths to two people who tolerated each other for the sake of their children. Similarly, I can’t answer why Dean and Cindy split up, but neither can they. Blue Valentine may not seem so, but it’s a brave film because it tackles a story with no answers. Dean doesn’t want marriage to end, but for Cindy, it never began. And neither of them understands marriage, or love for that matter. And as we’re left with that iconic image of the fireworks exploding as Dean walks away from Cindy, we’re reminded that none us know the answer. Love starts with sparks, then takes us in indeterminable and exciting directions, but eventually explodes and fades away into nothing. The feeling you’re left with is unavoidable and piercing, and it’s a feeling experienced when the credits roll in Blue Valentine. If that’s not an indicator for a great film, I don’t know what is.

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