Carol – Film Review

Posted on 24th November 201511th January 2016 by

Director: Todd Haynes

Starring: Cate Blanchett, Rooney Mara, Kyle Chandler, Jake Lacy and Sarah Paulson

Release Date: Nov 27

The most admirable feat in Carol is that it conveys an unconventional love story in such a humble manner, in the guise of a more-or-less conventional romance. There are few, if any, moments of orgasmic revelation or villainous homophobia.
Haynes presents a sensuous and irresistible romance, one that would be complimented well with red silk dressing gowns and boxes of dark chocolate. It isn’t necessarily ground-breaking, but there is no rule to say it needs to be.

The movie gives equal screen-time to Blanchett and Mara, giving us a balanced perspective of their characters and their relationship. Mara play Therese, a mild-mannered sales clerk in a toy store, who reflects dreamily of her career plans while drinking beers with friends at low-brow parties.
Blanchett as Carol, meanwhile, is at a later stage in life. She has a daughter and an ex-husband who is a victim of sexual circumstance. She wears exquisite fur coats and enjoys the finer things in life. There are few people who could play that character while still remaining totally endearing to the audience.
Blanchett pulls it off beautifully and makes it look easy.

What is notable is how carefully Haynes steers the film away from being gratuitous. He doesn’t eschew sex totally (to do so in this film would feel unnatural), but he is careful not to let Carol simply become ‘the Gay Film’. This isn’t ‘Brokeback Mountain With Lesbians’, which so many fellas have been clamouring for since 2005.
Instead, it is a well-crafted, visually stunning romance that just happens to be gay-friendly. And the fact that we can have such a film, one that appeals to broad audiences without coming across as earth-shattering or so focused on its message, is a welcome breath of fresh air.

While progressive in this sense, viewing Carol as Queer film can still be problematic. Haynes paints over the struggle of the gay community in 1950s New York with a thick, syrupy gloss in an effort to make it quite warm and fuzzy. There is very little in the form of conflict or violence that emerges from homophobia. This threatens to trivialize the marginalization of the LGBT community during this time period.
However, considering the gay community of the film is represented entirely by three characters in the film (Sarah Paulson is on excellent form as Carol’s previous lover), the argument could be made that the lack of gay representation is in order to convey the necessity of leading a secretive lifestyle when defying cultural norms.

Where the conflict does arrive is in the form of Carol and Therese’s socially acceptable partners; Carol’s ex-husband Harge (Chandler) causes some trouble for her and Therese’s relationship.
To the writer’s credit, Harge is portrayed fairly and without malice. This is a good man whose marriage has fallen apart for reasons he can’t fully understand. Painting him as a one-note villain who acts as a vessel for homophobia would be the obvious route to go down, and is something Chandler would be more than capable of. Haynes wisely refuses to go down this route and allows Harge to exist as a victim of tragedy.

Less sympathetic is Mara’s suitor, Richard (Lacy). Without a marriage at stake, his outbursts of frustration seem less justified. Oozing confidence and ignorance in equal measure, his is the voice of the generation. Through him, we learn how utterly self-assured everybody was that homosexuality was an affliction. That it was ‘not normal’. That it applied to ‘those people’ and not just to ‘people’.
Yet, while there is a brief and enjoyable exchange between himself and Mara that lightly explores the fluidity of sexuality, it isn’t long before the romance washes over us again like a cosy wave of bubbling champagne.

Haynes view of this relationship is almost devoid of cynicism, and this is reflected in the gorgeous visuals. You could pause the film at almost any moment and it would make for a beautiful portrait. This is aided nicely by setting the film during the picturesque Christmas period. It means that the contrast between the cold snow outside and the warm, fire-lit (private) interiors work on more than just a metaphorical level; it is a visual treat.
And while there is plenty of warmth radiating from the set, it is from the films’ leads that we feel the real heat.

While the relationship is not as one-sided as the film title would have you believe, there is no doubt that it is Carol who curries the audiences’ favour. She delivers her lines in a voice like rich caramel and exudes an irresistible sense of class that makes you want to play Bridge with her and learn all about her past. She has an observation to make on most anything and anyone, but this is less cutting and more witty than anything else.
A character that is written as being universally loved is rarely universally loved. But this is a film that sees the rules as more of a plaything than anything to be obeyed.

Just as Mara reluctantly complies with wearing her Santa sales clerk hat, Blanchett eyes the ‘on’ switch for the model train set before glancing guiltily left and right. It’s a subtle move, one that amounts to little but builds an immediate connection; a playful urge to defy authority, which neatly sums up the film as a whole.
Their interactions aren’t overly dramatic nor clichéd. Instead, the attraction builds organically through playful dialogue and natural body language. Blanchett and Mara have great chemistry, but an equal share of credit should go to Haynes, who frames them expertly in order to manipulate our emotions. When the key moment finally does arrive, it is difficult not to breathe a sigh of relief.

Mara views Blanchett as this wonderful embodiment of escapism. Not necessarily from the working-class life she has, but simply from the responsibility of dealing with rules and responsibility. She is well cast as this timid china doll with a spark of rebellion. And while she may not have the screen presence of Blatchett, to make such a comparison feels grossly unfair.
Mara ultimately gives Therese a natural relatability, even if that simply means we stand right alongside her in awe when Carol sweeps into her life, fur coats and warm smiles all around.

Carol tickles at your heart-strings playfully, seducing you into indulging in a guilty pleasure. It is a luxurious film that is laced with hidden meanings and subtext. Early on, a projectionist friend of Therese talks about how he likes to watch movies and see what it is the characters onscreen aren’t saying. This immediately elicits laughter and light mockery.

Carol makes you inescapably aware of what isn’t being said, but it isn’t so concerned with that message that you can’t simply sit back and enjoy this glimpse into a sincere and loving relationship.