Carol is Therese’s object of fascination after a chance encounter at work. Rooney Mara plays Therese, and Cate Blanchett is the titular character, a glamorous woman in the process of ending her marriage. They will change each other’s lives. Far From Heaven’s Todd Haynes directed it. It was characterized as “a depiction of two strong women in love with each other.”
Really? Um, ok. I am not into romantic dramas, but I do enjoy LGBTQ themed movies and television series. I may not be the intended audience so I can fully accept that I may not get it, and Carol was not for me, but I read the interaction completely differently. I thought that they were sexually attracted to each other because duh, Blanchette is luminous, but as an outsider looking in, I felt as if Carol was a player. It was an awfully big coincidence that as soon as they hook up, Carol suddenly has to leave, and she even has a cleaner suddenly appear to do her dirty work of saying it is not you, but it is me. I am not saying that Carol’s court battle is not a factor, but the timing….Therese seemed naïve, which is fine because the story is told from her point of view, and it is her first time around the block, but I was annoyed that it never occurred to her how Carol had the time to disappear, arrange for someone else to materialize, but could not say farewell. I know that it makes the whole affair more tragic and star-crossed, but a Dear Jane letter would have made more sense.
Carol is an adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s autobiographical novel, which was initially called The Price of Salt. Highsmith is better known for her Ripley series. I cannot believe that an author with such a jaundiced eye directed at humanity did not realize that she was possibly played so I am willing to believe that something got lost in translation from the page to the screen. Intellectually I understand that a huge part of the film is showing how impossible it was to have a same sex relationship without unwanted intervention and interruption, but I am haunted by one image in the film. Therese is in a record store and two women are openly together and appear to be lesbians. She almost flinches at the sight as if she got caught. Her most defining characteristic is watching people and not wanting to be seen. I wanted to know more about those women, Carol’s friend, anyone but Therese. Was it a deliberate choice to make Therese have no women friends? I am always suspicious of women with only men as friends, but maybe this choice was supposed to convey a different truth in this context. I do not understand what makes Therese special.
Carol seemed less a love story and more story about two women having to accept themselves at different stages in their lives. As a character, Therese frustrated me. She is like a modern-day Snow White, who happens to be a photographer. Everyone seems to believe that she is the fairest one in the land. Every guy wants her. She is a blank slate whom we can project characteristics on to. Things happen to her. I am incredulous how Therese could be a young version of Highsmith. I suppose that her ambition and sexual orientation are enough to satisfy most viewers that Therese is a three-dimensional character. In contrast to Mad Men, which is set in a later era and is stylistic different from Haynes’ gauzy gaze, even bit characters feel as if they are fully realized individuals. Unfortunately the series never had a lesbian regular, just a couple of guest stars, but even with brief appearances, those characters resonated. We knew a lot about one character based on the length of her friendship with a crush, hearing the history of the character from college to now and her willingness to tolerate being matched with a guy just to spend more time with her crush. In contrast, Therese is inexplicably successful, beloved and even fortunate when a man reacts negatively to her rejection. Should she not at least feel resistance because of her gender? She never gets the Peggy treatment where we are groomed to expect more from Therese’s understated façade.
Carol is too picturesque. Haynes seems more interested in making a movie about the 1950s that looks as if it was made in the 1950s and copying its aesthetic rather than making a film about living, breathing people. He accomplishes making a beautiful tableau. It makes me wonder if I saw Far From Heaven for the first time in my forties if I would have enjoyed it as much as I did when I originally saw it. The quality of the cast and the production swayed me, but would I think of them as real people? I understand that because Therese puts the titular character on a pedestal, there should be a fantasy quality, but to me, Carol feels more substantial than Therese, and it could be because unhappy wives fascinate Haynes more than the symbolic other (in terms of class, gender, race) lovers. I know Carol’s whole life story. Therese is the cipher. Why should Carol love Therese when Abby is an option?
Carol illustrates some realities well by showing, not telling. Men are constantly interrupting women, not rebuked for being loud as women are and are free to make demands. Otherwise I had jarring moments that felt tropey or ridiculous. Did I miss when they got a song since they barely hung out together? Who leaves New Jersey and goes to Chicago to get warmer? Chicago is obviously preferable, but not in terms of weather. If you are the guest in another person’s house, why are you serving the food? An actual alarm even goes off soon after Therese meets Carol after she decides to contact her. It has always been hard for me to buy cinematic romance so going in, it was always going to be an uphill battle. The whole affair seems so contrived, not organic. When the film suddenly shifts gears and goes noir, it feels silly.
Carol’s real message seemed to be the tension of motherhood with being a full, sexually-realized woman, and making the audience understand how immoral it was to use a child as a tool of torture. These scenes are the most harrowing and alive. Unfortunately because this story is supposed to be told from Therese’s point of view, the narrative structure does not serve this part of the story effectively. The film starts with the dreadful how we got here trope by beginning with the end, and characters know things about the other that they should have no way of knowing such as what happened between Carol and her husband in medical and court proceedings.
Carol’s deliberate pacing and absurd idea of romance did not work for me on a visceral level. I would recommend it since it is considered one of the mainstream classics for LGBTQ cinema, and it has a superbly talented cast; however any film that underutilizes the thespian Sarah Paulson could never win my heart.