Love is Strange Review

"When a piece is that romantic, it doesn't need embellishment," says George (Alfred Molina), following a concert in which a performer milked a certain piece of music.  His words are proven true by Ira Sachs' aching Love is Strange, in which George and Ben (John Lithgow) are finally able to tie the knot after nearly forty years together, and are then forced to live apart.  The film revels in the quieter moments of love, the everyday comfort of waking up next to your significant other, the humdrum routine of being a couple.  It's a film of light drama, with most of the tension coming from without. The bond between the two men remains steadfast despite the obstacles in their path.  Love is as strong as it is strange.

Following their nuptials, George loses his job teaching music at a Catholic school at the behest of the bishop, and to the chagrin of the school's faculty, students, and parents.  Between his private lessons and Ben's pension, the couple is no longer to afford their apartment, and must find other lodgings during their dual job and apartment hunt.  George sleeps on the couch of often partying gay cops Ted (Cheyenne Jackson) and Roberto (Manny Perez), while Ben stays with his nephew Elliot (Darren Burrows) and his family.  Neither situation proves ideal.

George finds himself a fish out of water in the midst of light-flashing, music-bumping parties and quieter, nerdier role-playing game nights.  Ben fails to realize, at least initially, how his presence is a hindrance to Kate (Marisa Tomei), who is trying to write a new novel, and Joey (Charlie Tahan), often in the company of his older friend Vlad (Eric Tabach) doing schoolwork or hanging out.  After being in the company and comfort of a partner - and now husband - for decades, being separated is like starting life anew, finding oneself a stranger in a strange land.  Once upon a time, Ben and George lived lives that probably looked a lot like the ones they now find themselves visitors to: arguments, parties, creative ambitions, youthful passions.  But they've already lived through these milestones, overcome the lows and relished the highs, and have made it to the comfortable normalcy of living each day together.

Sachs uses the setting of New York City to enhance the bliss of being together and the sorrow of being apart.  Shots of the rooftops, the view Ben takes in as he paints atop Elliot's building, paint the city as supremely lonely, isolating, endless in its emptiness and full of barricades.  But in other moments - such as Ben and George walking in the street, or the film's sun-drenched final shot - the city is a warm, intimate bastion for those who only have eyes for each other.  The city is either the most romantic place on earth or the loneliest.  It all depends on who you navigate the urban labyrinth with.

Of course, Love is Strange wouldn't work without the superb performances, especially those of the two leads.  Molina and Lithgow both shine in their individual scenes, but the film is at its best when they share the screen, and the tenderness and ease of a life lived together are on delicate display.  These aren't performers who are focused on "playing gay."  There's no hint of snark or cliche in the work.  Their honest, gracious characters make the film bloom beyond the niche some might want to fit the film into.  This is a gay love story, yes, but it is also a universal love story.  This is a tale of longing, of leaving, of loving, a story each of us knows - or will someday know - well.  The timeliness of the story, in regard to marriage equality and religious rigidity toward sexual minorities, is almost beside the point.  In fact, George comes right out and tells the priest at the school that he still believes in Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior, a stunning moment that marks, in my movie-watching, the first gay Christian character I've come across onscreen.  The film's religious and political elements serve more as a starting point to a lovely story than a political statement, and the film is better off for it.

Love is Strange makes a compelling companion piece to Sachs' last film, the devastating Keep the Lights On, about a man who's in love with an absent, self-destructive love addict.  That film chronicles the pangs of first love, and the difficulty of making things work.  But once one makes it through that wilderness, there is a paradise of love, comfort, and joy: the kind of relationship Ben and George share.  It was a weird experience, indeed, to be sitting in the theater - young, single, with so many years ahead of me - and to wish to be old, gray, and beside a man whom I haven't met yet, but will meet, and will love until the end of my life.  That's the quiet magic of Love is Strange.