I giochi dei grandi

If "We Don't Live Here Anymore" had been made in the 1960s, it might have been titled "Jack and Terry and Hank and Edith". To borrow the title of another celebrated 60s film, "We Don't Live Here Anymore" is about carnal knowledge in the 21st century.

The film has a few interesting lines in it. Some have a hollow ring to them. Take the statement that "Even adultery has morality to it." The film does not appear to bear this out. Right or wrong don't seem to come into the picture at all. It seems as if anything goes as long as it makes people "happy". As Hank (Peter Krause) says, "It's easier living with a woman who feels loved" -- even if it is by your best friend Jack (Mark Ruffalo). Far closer to the truth is Mark's comment to his children that the arguments they overhear between their parents are just "adult foolishness". They certainly seem to be compared to the savvy of the kids, who are old beyond their years.

The situation (and the situational ethics) of the film may seem a tad unreal or surreal. But the film is solidly grounded in reality, as embodied by the environment in which the two couples live -- their home lives, their children, the very houses they inhabit.

The music of the film is well chosen, alternating between the drama of operatic or chamber music, and jazz rhythms that sound like a jungle beat -- the beat of sexual heat and passion.

The best of the four lead actors is Laura Dern as Terry. To my mind, she is the only fully rounded and entirely comprehensible character. Dern's setpiece speech about her husband treating her like a dog has the ring of Oscar to it. To be frank, Dern's shaggy mane and thin frame make her look a lot like a dog -- an Afghan or a Lhasa Apso, perhaps -- but she should definitely not be written off as a bitch. On the contrary, we understand and sympathize with her drinking and her anger at being cast aside by her wayward husband Jack.

Mark Ruffalo, as Jack, is harder to understand and to sympathize with. He comes across as too self-centered and callous. Even in his treatment of Edith (Naomi Watts), he seems to think only of himself and his sexual needs. He claims to "love" her, but their relationship is essentially physical. Jack is basically a wuss and a coward who, when push comes to shove, cannot leave his wife and cannot even be honest with his kids about how things stand between their parents. And you get the definite impression that Jack cares more about the children than about Terry. (That being said, the camera absolutely loves Mark Ruffalo with his dark, liquid brown eyes and full, sensual lips.)

By comparison, Peter Krause (Hank) and Naomi Watts (Edith) are less interesting and more like plot devices than real people. Hank is a professor and author with writer's block who has the hots for one of his students, but not for his pretty wife. Hank is no slouch himself in the looks department, but Edith's interests lie across the fence. It is even harder to understand their motivations than Jack's.

Still, "We Don't Live Here Any More" is a fascinating look at modern sexual mores, and Laura Dern is a powerhouse who lights up the screen. Again, don't be surprised if her name is put forward for the coveted golden statuette. You heard it here first!

An ernest dose of claustrophobia

We Don't Live Here Anymore begins with two couples having a semi drunken party. At least Terry (Laura Dern), Jack's wife, is getting drunk, a thing she does pretty often. They've run out of beer and Jack (Mark Ruffalo) and Edith (Naomi Watts), who's the wife of Hank (Peter Krause) go to get some. Later that night the first fight occurs between Jack and Terry. This isn't the first time Jack has run off with Edith on little improvised errands and they've come to make Terry suspicious -- and she's right: Edith and Jack are soon getting it on outside on a blanket. The two couples' lives are intertwined. Jack and Hank work in the same college English department, Jack teaching literature and Hank creative writing, an activity at which he is not a success, though acceptance of one of his poems by The New Yorker is one of the few positive and non-adulterous events in the movie. The two men also go out on runs together -- sweaty, huffy, ridiculously competitive and un-fun slogs on deserted roads, followed by a beer at a pub. Edith and Jack continue to sneak off to have sex, Terry remains suspicious, and Hank doesn't seem to care either about Edith or about anybody but himself and his unsuccess, though being a habitual philanderer often on the prowl (mostly for girl students), he eventually he scares up some lust for Terry, who's eager for that kind of revenge once she knows what Jack is up to.

There's no question about the fact that Ruffalo, Watts, Dern, and Krause do their best to flesh out what, by the film's end, still appear to be rather undefined roles – underwritten and equally unsimpatico. There's no doubt about Terry's volatility and anger and Edith's cool withdrawal and intense need. Hank is laid back and self absorbed, and in one of his typically complex portrayals of a ne'er-do-well, Mark Ruffalo as Jack combines needy, querulous, hostile, and sexy with a resultingly vivid but unappealing effect -- which one could also say for Laura Dern's energetic and committed portrayal. The actors do interesting (if somewhat unrewarding) work; they're better than the material. So are the designer, who's composed wonderful interiors, and the cinematographer, who has made them translucent and real. But this is a drama so focused on adultery that the adultery itself remains incompletely described as an experience. Where's the guilt? Where's the excitement? We Don't Live Here Anymore has too little to say about anything else in life other than the mechanisms of infidelity – including the way children get caught in the crossfire. Though there is plenty of drinking and some smoking (Edith and Jack indulge in the latter secret vice after their secret sex sessions), the characters don't even seem to have time to sit down and eat and there's only the most smarmy and limited depiction of the men at work in the classroom, or their offices. For men and women of intelligence, these people show little brains and wit.

The friend I saw this movie with dwelt on the retro nature of the women's roles. This is a serious flaw because there's been no effort to show that the story material is from the Seventies. It's unlikely, perhaps nearly impossible, for two assistant professors at a college in the northwest nowadays to both have wives who do nothing but cook, clean house, and mind the kids. This is just one indication of a certain clumsiness in the story adaptations that are also slim on motivation and personality. We Don't Live Here Anymore is only a `good' movie in the sense that it's a grownup treatment of a grownup theme with a certain polish and a talented cast. But it's extremely claustrophobic without the compensation one might find in Bergman, say, of a growing intensity, of leaving one with powerful emotions. Jack and Terry and Hank and Edith may sputter and lash at one another at times, but they don't seem to know about or care about themselves or each other enough to make the viewer care too.

It's hard to describe the action, which slides from scene to scene gratuitously slipping in a shot or two from another scene, such as Jack and Edith's first sex outdoors, or cutting back and forth from one couple and house to the other. Do we have to have that? Why not do one thing at a time? This is where I love the French linear clarity of Eric Rohmer. He takes one conversation at a time. No slippery flash cut peeks at other people during a conversation. Sure, Eric Rohmer's cinema is a highly formalized version of life. But what is We Don't Live Here Anymore? All these things are artificial. There are no climaxes, and there's neither passion nor brilliance. One can't help thinking of the excitement, both emotional and intellectual, aroused by a good production of Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf, beside which We Don't Live Here Anymore almost seems to slink away in shame. And compared to the lighthearted stimulation of watching an Eric Rohmer film, this one is more like taking a dose of castor oil.

John Curran presents a very unsettling view on fragile relationships. At the centre of the story there are two married couples and from their interactions one can easily conclude that there was once a lot of love within the couples and a strong friendship between them and now, well in the case of Hank and Edith, the love is vanishing into thin air. Edith still yearns for Hank's love but Hank is too self-absorbed in his self-perceived failure and careless about his wife's infidelity. Terry still deeply loves Jack who is going through a mid-life crisis (like Hank) and finds comfort, both sexual and emotional, with Edith. At the center of their relationships are the children of the respective couples who are the most vulnerable ones. The film is a shocking portrayal of relationships and friendships that have reached a stage where indifference, obligation, guilt, loneliness and despair take over. Curran also adds some doses of humour that is subtle and welcoming (at the same time non-intrusive).

The cinematography is fantastic and editing is wonderful. I especially liked how the camera jumps from one character to another, showing what they are going through, during a constant time period. The score contributes to the gloominess but in a non-intrusive and non-melodramatic way. It is rather gentle and flowing smoothly.

'We Don't Live Here Anymore' showcases four exceptional performances. Ruffalo is both hateful and sympathetic as Jack. The remarkable Laura Dern is explosive and fiery as Terry. Her Terry is the strongest of the four and Dern is both gripping and haunting. Both Ruffalo and Dern benefit from well-defined roles (but even otherwise they are great actors as has been evident in their other movies) though there was the risk that had the roles been played by lesser actors, they could have easily become caricatures. However, the characters Hank and Edith depend more on the actor's performances. Naomi Watts shows immense depth through a wonderfully restrained performance while Peter Krause brilliantly downplays and brings a rawness to his part and his facial expressions speak volumes.

'We Don't Live Here Anymore' is certainly not a positive look at relationships. The friendship between the couple is strong and there is an understanding between them that shows that they care for each other. Notice in the later scene when Dern's Terry tries to comfort Watts's Edith and the chats between Hank and Jack are proof enough. Even though the words aren't said, they only know each other too well and maybe it is respect that is losing its hold and probably friendship will too. Curran's film tells a meaningful raw story that is honest, brutal, daring and unsympathetic to its characters.

Watch this as a double-bill with Mike Nichols' "Closer," and you very well might swear off love, relationships and marriage for a very long time, if not forever.

The last screenwriter I'd expect to write a somber, almost Bergmanesque exploration of marriage and infidelity would be Larry Gross, whose credits include "48 HRS." (1982) and "Streets of Fire" 1984) for Walter Hill and "True Crime" (1999) for Clint Eastwood.

Yet Gross has turned two Andre Dubus short stories into an engaging, albeit somewhat depressing, movie that explores marital infidelities among two couples - Jack (Mark Ruffalo) and Terry Linden (Laura Dern); and Hank (Peter Krause) and Edith Evans (Naomi Watts).

Much like the Nichols film, "We Don't Live Here Anymore" can be tough viewing, at times. Uncomfortable, even occasionally painful. But the actors make it work, often lifting it above trite moments. Director John Curran keeps things tight and gets emotionally powerful performances from them. Though, the film would have smarted more had Krause injected some rawness into his role. Hank seems too laid-back about the whole affair and Krause's performance never inches past insouciant.

Dern throws herself fully into her strongest role since "Citizen Ruth" (1996). As a wife who's apparently lost the desire of her husband and really has little interest in housework, Dern does well to keep Terry from turning into a broad caricature. She makes Terry sad without turning her pathetic. A bedroom confrontation with Jack doesn't veer into clichés only because Dern and Ruffalo bring such brutal honesty to their roles.

Watts seems to revel in playing emotionally devastated women. Here, she throws in selfishness, to boot. Watts makes it awfully difficult for us to like Edith because she's the most manipulative of the lot. That we wind up caring about her speaks highly of Watts' acting ability.

The Lindens and the Evanses might very well take narcissism to a new level. These thoroughly self-absorbed people don't really care about the infidelity. In fact, they're so blasé about it all, you wonder if anything at all would jolt them into feeling something for someone else.

When Edith asks Jack, "How do you think we'll get caught?" she's not so much worried about her husband finding about the affair than her friend, Terry. And it's in delving into the Terry-Edith dynamic that Gross' script fails. We hear that these two women are dearest friends. Yet, we never get that feeling from watching them together. In fact, Gross never really gives either Dern or Watts, two incredible talents, the chance to play off each other. Their few scenes together barely scratch the surface of any friendship Terry and Edith might have.

True, there's nothing really sympathetic about any of these four people. I doubt redemption's around the corner, either. But the way they claw at each other's emotions, occasionally fraying themselves, as they lie and cheat, and even tell the truth, to their loved ones, makes for compelling viewing.

"We Don't Live Here Anymore" shows a side of marriage that movies, certainly American movies, rarely dare to depict. Marriage isn't easy. For many, it can be terribly hard work. Sometimes, painful and difficult work. And that's what this film shows.

You can't really say you enjoyed watching this movie, but it will linger with you long after you're done watching it; when you're stuck washing dirty dishes for the umpteenth time, picking up tossed-about laundry or suddenly realizing that your lover's quirk which you once thought was endearing and cute is now just positively irritating and infuriating.

This is a difficult film to sit through. It presents a lot of morality issues that are unnerving. Andre Dubus' work always asked a lot of questions about human relations like the ones that are presented here from two of his short pieces.

It takes courage to take this material and bring it to the screen. Naomi Watts appears as one of the producers and she is to be congratulated even though we might be turned off by what we are watching. John Curran's directing the screen play from Larry Gross shows he has an eye for the material even though the pace is slow.

The actual victims of the affairs of Jack and Terry and Hank and Edith, are their children. It is obvious the two daughters are going to be scarred for life. They see and understand a lot more, than they might seem to, well beyond their young ages. In fact, it appears both girls know what their parents are doing.

It's easy to have an extra marital affair, but people entering into a relationship such as the quartet in this film do, have to realize they ultimately have to pay for their actions. Jack realizes it at the last moment. He knows he can't leave his son and daughter behind. Edith, on the other hand, had no problem continuing seeing Jack, as long as it was cool with him.

Hank, the young English teacher, whose poem is published by The New Yorker, lives in a fantasy world. We don't see him attached to his daughter Sharon, the same way we know Jack is to his children. He hits on the female students without any problems. He couldn't care less what his own wife is doing.

Terry, on the other hand, has to prove herself. She is a woman that has seen better days. Her beauty is fading and her house is a mess. On the other hand, Edith's house is spotless. These two women are going through a turmoil in their lives.

The only positive thing is what Jack goes through when he takes the children to the river and suddenly we don't know whether he wants to kill them, or not. The idea of losing them is what makes him, at long last, see the light. We also get to see a contrite Edith leaving with her daughter Sharon toward the train tracks; there is a hint of a possible suicide attempt, but no, she wants to start a new life and making a new start. Edith, also, realizes too late how she has harmed her daughter.

The acting is excellent. Mark Ruffalo keeps changing from film to film. He is an interesting actor no matter what a movie asks him to do. The real revelation is Laura Dern. Her Terry is a composite of women of a certain age that suddenly realize they are not going anywhere and they have made mistakes along the way, almost losing her husband and family. Peter Krause is also effective as Hank, the callous writer in love with himself. Naomi Watts is the one that doesn't fare as well. Her Edith is an enigma. She is a woman obsessed with sex with another man, but at times we don't see enough heat coming from her.

Ultimately, the two young girls that play the two daughters, Jennifer Bishop, and Haili Page make their characters seem real without doing much, which is an accomplishment.