Directing: B+
Acting: A
Writing: A-
Cinematography: B
Editing: A-

I have reached a point of accepting that companies like Netflix and Amazon are irrevocably changing movies as we know it, or at least the way we watch them—and I say this as someone who has historically been a cinema purist. Marriage Story, much like The Irishman last month or Roma last year, is a mostly excellent film made with the backing of Netflix, given a very brief theatrical release to qualify for Academy Awards, but available to the widest audience by very quickly thereafter being available streaming.

There are two key differences between those two previous movies and this one, though. Roma in particular, with its stunning technical achievements, commanded theatrical viewing. The Irishman, some would argue, commanded the same—its three-and-a-half-hour run time notwithstanding—due to its director (Martin Scorsese) and its context in cinema history, although I didn’t find it particularly imperative to view in theaters, personally. And, really, the same can be said of Marriage Story, which is an incredibly absorbing drama but with nothing technical about it to woo viewers any more on the big screen than it would have at home.

There’s always the argument of the “communal experience,” of course, which I generally subscribe to as well. And that is available here, even now, here in the Seattle area, playing at Landmark’s discount Crest Theater in Shoreline at least through the end of next week. It isn’t playing anywhere else, though, which severely limits your options if you’d really like to see it in a theater. That is precisely why I’m breaking with my own convention and actually posting a review of it, even though I did not see it on the big screen. I watched it alone at home, as it’s also available streaming as we speak—an increasingly common case of a movie available streaming or on demand simultaneously with theatrical release. And, yes: I want to be part of the discussion about this movie’s award prospects.

The thing is, though, in relative contrast to The Irishman and in sharp contrast to Roma, I would not suggest you go out of your way to see this one in a theater. I’m even leaning toward suggesting you watch it at home. Whether or not you should watch it with your spouse, in the event that you are married or partnered, I am having trouble deciding. Marriage Story seems like the kind of movie that, depending on your circumstances, can either strengthen your gratitude for being married, or nudge you closer to deciding you don’t like it so much. For now at least, I fall into the former category. This could have been awkward to watch with my husband, and yet I immediately imagined it making him take hold of my hand. Not out of desperate hope, but out of loving appreciation.

And just contemplating this film has its own rewards. It sinks into you slowly, and then takes hold, and you keep thinking about it. This is not your conventional movie about divorce. And that’s not just because it’s written and directed by Noah Bombauch, whose uniquely cutting wit previously brought us the likes of Frances Ha (2015) and The Squid and the Whale (2005). Marriage Story, though, is by far the most accessible film he’s ever made, and it may also be his best.

This is a movie that refuses to simplify its characters, never allowing either party to fall into caricature, or become villains. They never quite even behave like bad people. They just occasionally make a mess of things. They’re just . . . human. That may not exactly sound revolutionary, but as performed by Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver, it’s at the very least revelatory. There is no hate between these two people, even when they occasionally do and say hateful things. Their actions are fueled by a frustration with an inability to make it work even when they still love each other.

They have a child, which complicates things. Charlie is a theater director in New York City; Nicole is his lead actor who has felt a potential acting career in Los Angeles has been sacrificed to stick with him in New York for ten years. This gives Marriage Story a slightly “inside baseball” feel, what with how personal and semiautobiographical this is for Baumbach. You might expect this to alienate some viewers slightly, but the issues and themes of compromise and resentment between a married couple are universal. If there is any lesson to be learned from this, it’s not only the importance of communication in any relationship, but clarity. Charlie and Nicole traffic in a lot of assumptions stretched over many years.

The kid, played by Azhy Robertson, is kind of a little shit sometimes. One might be tempted to say “the kid kind of sucks” (as was said on one podcast I listen to), but I don’t think that’s fair. He seems like a perfectly regular kid to me, and it’s nice to see a kid character in a motion picture who is not creepily precocious. As for Henry’s behaviors, what else do you expect when a couple going through a breakup inevitably put their child in the crosshairs?

As you might imagine, Marriage Story gets very sad at times. You’ll want a tissue at the ready. The nice surprise, though, is that this movie is also a lot funnier than you might expect. It’s still a Noah Baumbach film, after all, and it provides enough laughs that it borders on dramedy. And it’s not just to cut the tension; it’s just a part of life. Laughter and sadness, we all experience them both. I’ve seen Baumbach films that made their characters almost self-consciously “quirky,” in a way that made them feel just short of real. By that measure, this is Baumbach’s definitive masterwork, having ironed out such quirks. Everything about Marriage Story feels plausible and authentic. You laugh with and hurt for all parties involved. These are people you feel confident will never stop caring about each other. And even in a movie about something as painful as divorce, that is a great comfort.

*A couple reads from the same book, and realizes they aren’t on the same page.*

Overall: A-