"We Don't Live Here Anymore", the latest film from Australian director John Curran (Praise) is an examination of the intertwining infidelities of two married couples: Hank (Peter Krause) and Edith Evans (Naomi Watts) and Jack (Mark Ruffalo) and Terry Linden (Laura Dern). When it becomes known that Jack and Edith are involved in a passionate affair, Terry and Hank begin a retaliate relationship and soon the four are all painfully and irreversibly trapped in a web or betrayal, forbidden passion and unspoken misery. Based on two short stories by Andrew Dubus, the film is very performance driven and focuses very heavily on human nature and behavior, as well as the tragedy of love.
These characters that we spend the length of the film with are not necessarily pleasant, but they are very interesting, sometimes compelling. The performances of the main four are fantastic, particularly Ruffalo and Watts, who are so subtly able to let us see how badly their characters are suffering. At the same time, they are not blameless victims. Truth be told, no one is blames in this dark but fabulously composed film, which draws on the modern disenchanted view of romances and love by showing the yearning of lust and guilty pleasures.
The direction has a considered tension to it, in keeping with the tense feel of these characters trying to keep their discrepancies secret. Some ambiguity as to which character we are actually watching, due to direction is very deliberate and effective. And there are moments that cut between two of the secret lovers, each alone, with a running narration that adds strongly to the implied isolation of these people.
The only qualm to be had is that the film seems to drag a little at the end, where nothing very much happens. Perhaps a more resolute conclusion could have been afforded, but the power of the performances and universality of the story more than make up for any faults. Top marks to the amazing cast and write Larry Gross, who has done an admirable job of transposing this sad story to film. Very impressive.
These characters that we spend the length of the film with are not necessarily pleasant, but they are very interesting, sometimes compelling. The performances of the main four are fantastic, particularly Ruffalo and Watts, who are so subtly able to let us see how badly their characters are suffering. At the same time, they are not blameless victims. Truth be told, no one is blames in this dark but fabulously composed film, which draws on the modern disenchanted view of romances and love by showing the yearning of lust and guilty pleasures.
The direction has a considered tension to it, in keeping with the tense feel of these characters trying to keep their discrepancies secret. Some ambiguity as to which character we are actually watching, due to direction is very deliberate and effective. And there are moments that cut between two of the secret lovers, each alone, with a running narration that adds strongly to the implied isolation of these people.
The only qualm to be had is that the film seems to drag a little at the end, where nothing very much happens. Perhaps a more resolute conclusion could have been afforded, but the power of the performances and universality of the story more than make up for any faults. Top marks to the amazing cast and write Larry Gross, who has done an admirable job of transposing this sad story to film. Very impressive.