A Quiet, Intimate Love Story
Todd Haynes' Carol, an adaption of a Patricia Highsmith novel by screenwriter Phyllis Nagy, is a quiet, intimate portrait of two women falling in love in the 1950s. Therese (Rooney Mara) works in the toy department of a New York City department store, and is caught off guard by the allure of customer Carol (Cate Blanchett). The two end up seeing each other again, and their relationship develops further, complicated mostly by Carol's impending divorce from Harge (Kyle Chandler) and the custody battle over their young daughter.
Haynes has crafted a movie that is beautiful both visually and emotionally. Photographed on Super 16mm film, the image has a classic look, one that matches the era the movie portrays. An early shot in the film of Therese looking out the window of her New York apartment had me thinking that, were Rooney Mara not in the frame, it could have come from West Side Story, because it simply looks of the era. Nothing in Carol smacks of a caricature of the 1950s, or of 50s movies, which is an approach that can be fun, but which would be a terrible fit for this story. In a flowing fur coat, Blanchett looks like she could be Joan Crawford in the latter half of Mildred Pierce, but Carol never feels like a melodrama.
The production design of the film is phenomenal, down to the smallest detail; it gives the actors a reality to inhabit and live up to, and no one fails to do so. Blanchett and Mara turn in wonderfully measured performances, grounding their characters' romance in a burgeoning friendship and curiosity that, simply because of the way they look at each other, always has a romantic tension bubbling just underneath. Kyle Chandler—here given a potentially thankless task of playing the husband who won't accept his wife's sexual orientation—makes Harge the antagonist without making him a villain. Behind his disapproval of Carol's choices is his disappointment in losing an idyllic family life that already seems long gone by the time the film begins.
With these many elements in mind, Haynes and company have created a rich viewing experience, but one that is undeniably subdued. Watching the characters go about their lives in this story feels so much like watching real people that, for me at least, it was easy to keep them at arm's length. I was relatively unmoved by Carol, yet unquestionably impressed, because it achieved such a level of realism without sacrificing traits of classic filmmaking, like the beautiful cinematography by Edward Lachman and the memorable score by Carter Burwell. Carol's world is one the viewer just slips into, and how absorbing it's story and characters prove to be will depend on the who's engaging with them.
A Thought on Watching Carol: I try to see all films on the big screen in the best presentation available, and Carol is quite often a feast for the eyes that makes such an experience rewarding. However, I look forward to revisiting the film at home, where the quiet nature of the story won't be disrupted by people rustling through popcorn bags or getting in and out of their seats for bathroom runs. Carol is a subdued movie that can create a delicate focus from its audience: you can't look away, but even the smallest distraction will most certainly call attention to itself, and break the illusion.