The Year of Living Unfaithfully (or: Unhappily Ever After)

"Adultery is the vice of equivocation." – Alexander Theroux As anyone who has covered a film festival can attest, one of the unavoidable effects of seeing so many quality films in a relatively short time frame is that you begin to notice shared elements between films. These can range from the superficial – for example, hearing Blondie songs in multiple films – to the interesting-but-still-purely-coincidental fact that trains played significant roles in several titles (Paranoid Park, The Darjeeling Limited, I Just Didn't Do It, Alexandra). Yet beyond these bits of happenstance, there was something more substantial at play this year in an overwhelming numbers of films – an almost universally negative (and even cynical) view towards marriage, and a preponderance of infidelity. Does this say anything about the current state of world cinema, or is it merely a glimpse into (or measure of) an early 21st century cultural zeitgeist? Don't get me wrong – I'm not complaining. I'd much rather watch the dissolution of a relationship for two hours than bear five minutes of a meet-cute scenario, but I was surprised that, of all films, No Country For Old Men was the lone title that came closest to portraying happily married couples. And though a few films featured people who were looking for it, I can't recall a single instance of somebody actually falling in love. Is l'amour totally passé nowadays? Though the settings couldn't be more different, Ira Sachs' Married Life and Carlos Reygadas' Stellet Licht basically tell the same tale of a relatively happy married man who has fallen for another woman, yet neither can bring it over himself to hurt his wife. Stuck with this dilemma, the modern-day Mennonite slips into a crisis of faith, while the 1940s businessman decides murdering his wife is a more charitable act than simply leaving her. And though both films find resolutions that avoid the outright tragic (thanks to a literal deus ex machina in one case), it would be incorrect to call them happy endings. There's a hint of the cynical in regards to the sacrifices and compromises made to arrive at their respective conclusions. The unfaithful spouse is no stranger to French cinema, and both Chabrol's A Girl Cut in Two and Breillat's The Last Mistress revolve around bedswervers involved in sexually obsessive relationships – each a morality play with apt (and not-unexpected) tragic outcomes. As in the Sachs and Reygadas films, neither husband here finds himself in a troubled marriage – quite the opposite in fact. Yet unlike those films, neither Chabrol's Charles Saint-Denis (François Berléand) nor Breillat's Ryno de Marigny (Fu'ad Ait Aatou) ever consider their mistresses as potential replacements for wives that already offer them everything – love, passion, and even social standing. (In this regard, it is interesting to note that the wives in both Married Life and Stellet Licht are archetypal housewife/mother figures, as opposed to the upper crust societal wives of A Girl Cut in Two and The Last Mistress.) These extramarital liaisons are built on physical desire – relationships which, as we've learned from countless other films, can only end in tragedy. Though it wasn't always central to the plot, spouse-breach played a significant role in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, Actresses, Margot at the Wedding, and, to a lesser extent, I'm Not There. In fact, relationships as a whole didn't fare too well, and outside of the aforementioned Coen brothers film, positive representations of coupling (of any sort) were virtually nonexistent. Rather than dissect each film, I created the following relationship misery chart that  conveniently spells it all out:

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, according to some) I missed the Rohmer film, which, going by its title (The Romance of Astree and Celadon) sounds like it could have been a genuine love story, but I'm not sure. All I've heard about is half-naked maidens prancing about. It's a shame Hong Sang-soo didn't have a film in the festival this year. Somebody's always falling in love in his films, even if for the wrong reasons. Is cinematic love, like, so last century? Has that infernal machine on the left coast that continues to pump out one cloying RomCom after another sullied the waters forever? Or are these films a genuine reflection of a post-whatever malaise that has succeeded in driving us apart from one another? Hell if I know. I'm gonna go watch Wild at Heart – now there's a romance for the ages.