Several movies have come out in recent years that explore love and relationships in a truer way than most. And with each one, I’m always struck by how much better films are getting at realistically conveying this specific subject. That’s not to say that every one of these films is actual good, but I think there’s been a tonal shift in this type of storytelling from which these films are benefiting. It’s always been just a general sense I’ve gotten, hardly much more than a prolonged afterthought; but, when I actually stopped to think about it I realized that there does exist an underlying theme that permeates this thinking – the acknowledgment of time.
Love is a heady topic to write about, or even just think about for that matter – but I will attempt it in a singular post. More and more I’m seeing these types of films rightly develop the concept of time in their filmmaking. And that makes sense to me. How do you measure love? That’s obviously not a fair question. The romantics and philosophers might either wax poetic on how to do so or argue that the attempt itself would be self-defeating. But whether or not love itself can be measured, there are at least certain things about or aspects of it that can be measured, or captured, as seen from the outside, and what is filmmaking if not capturing story and emotion. So try as we might to bottle that intensity frame by frame, the best we can do is to encapsulate periods of time and try to convey the feelings felt therein. Love at first sight is literally a moment and sometimes it’s a slow burn that spans a lifetime. Love takes time. That much is true. Some are lucky enough to enjoy it only briefly, luckier still are those who can make it last.
The highly favored (500) Days of Summer employed this concept to great success, embracing the nature of love’s duration, or expiration, in the title itself. For those who’ve not yet seen it, and I vehemently suggest you do, the film shifts back and forth in time, highlighting snippets of a young California couple’s tumultuous relationship at various and non-sequential points throughout. The method was a gambit, but not a gimmick, and it served the film well in its non-linear storytelling of Tom and Summer. Being able to see the highs and lows juxtaposed against each other despite not having actually occurred chronologically in sequence gives the viewer a better understanding of the emotional roller coaster. What a difference a day makes. People often say that the best way to proofread something to is to read it backwards, from end to beginning. Reading things normally comes so very natural that we have a tendency to gloss over parts that we just assume are correct because we’re so used to seeing them that way, even if they’re not. Changing the order allows the reader to actually see things for what they really are, allowing them to hone in on every little word or phrase because the break from the normal reading convention requires it. (500) Days provides the viewer with that same clarity. In fact, at his lowest point, it is recommended to Tom to specifically look back on his memories of Summer and to remember the bad memories alongside the good to really understand if the good were really that great to begin with. Rightly so, as bad memories are remembered with perfect and painful honesty while good memories become idealized over time. Sure enough, everything about this film spoke to a wide audience and it was perhaps the first of its kind to be handled deftly enough to break it out from indie to commercial success.
One Day, which came out just last year, puts a slight spin on the convention by showing its two leads Dexter and Emma on the same day each year for 20 years of them knowing one another. Sometimes they are together and sometimes they are not. What’s important is that you see time passing in their lives, pushing them together or passing them by. If you think about it, that’s another truly honest way of portraying a relationship of any kind. You visit the highs and lows of a relationship because of exactly what they are, the major points that stand out. But what about all the days in between – specifically, a singular day each year. Maybe it’s a high for someone and it’s just any other day for the other, or maybe, it’s just a regular day in the life for both. How you see two people interact under these circumstances reveals as much about them if not more than the highlights. These types of days comprise the majority of life and it would be a disservice to not look upon them with the same value as the also important but far fewer major moments.
Another film that’s done quite well for itself is Like Crazy. Jake and Anna are a young couple who meet and fall so intensely in love that she decides to overstay her Visa to be with him a summer longer. The result is her deportation and ban from the US that prevents them from being with each other in earnest. While this film doesn’t employ the use of time skipping, it does utilize time as a major element in its storytelling. In the throes of their new feelings for each other, their problem is not having enough time. They’re shown spending every moment together and it’s still not enough. Parting after a single summer break because she must head back to the UK per her Visa is too much to bear. The meat of the movie is how they try to pass the time while they are apart in their respective countries. There is of course strain, but they get on with their lives while still trying to be a part of each other’s. Toward the end, not having enough time flips on itself and they are shown having to deal with the inverse of that equation.
The very notion of time in these movies is quite basic to the notion of love. There is no longing without the passage of time; the exhilaration of true happiness makes time stand still; real heartbreak only occurs when something comes to an end. Lately, we’ve seen a lot of polarization with regard to the types of films that have been coming out. IMAX and 3D have ushered in more and more films at least partially intent on capitalizing on the visuals to tell the story. But the more important part, I feel, is still what you show, and less how you show it. It’s no wonder that films like (500) Days of Summer, One Day, and Like Crazy cost very little to make since they don’t rely on splashy visual stimuli. The power and charm of these movies come from their ability to express the crux of their plots realistically. Seeing facets of a relationship that aren’t normally shown appeals to a sense of authenticity that most people don’t even realize has been lacking. And that is why they succeed, both critically and financially. The unsung moments and a proper way to view them have been getting their proper due. This rising tide in filmmaking is a good thing and will serve to help maintain a certain sense of grounding that might otherwise get slighted in favor of pushing the limits of our imagination visually. Imagine where we’ll be when they meet in the middle.
