As a director, James Gray is an old-school anachronism, not only because of his fondness for straightforward genre mechanisms but, just as crucially, for his dedication to melodramatic sincerity. That quality takes center-screen in Two Lovers, a romance whose earnestness borders on the creaky yet has a way of creeping under one’s skin, crowding out any minor concerns about the stolidity of its love-triangle narrative. As in The Yards and We Own the Night, Gray’s latest benefits from an impeccable sense of place, in this case modern-day Brooklyn, whose windy chill, intimacy and ethnic character all lend warm, comfortable authenticity to the tale of Leonard (Joaquin Phoenix), the son of a Jewish dry cleaner back living with his parents after having been left by his fiancé and committed, post-suicide attempt, to a mental hospital. Leonard’s downcast eyes and penchant for mumbled monosyllabic utterances express a damaged soul but Phoenix, acutely in tune with Gray’s depiction of his milieu (in this, his third collaboration with the director), refuses to reduce his indecisive protagonist to simply the walking wounded. Playfulness flirting around the corners of his eyes and mouth, and immature stubbornness lurking underneath his surface hesitancy, Leonard is a man hurt but not hopeless, his spirit – as evidenced by a supremely evocative opening wannabe-fatal dive off a pier – scarred but not irrevocably so.
Unable to off himself, Leonard returns home to a dad (Moni Moshonov) concerned and a mom (Isabella Rossellini) on pins and needles, as well as two women who waltz into his life and provide Two Lovers with its title. The first is Sandra (Vinessa Shaw), whom Leonard’s parents set him up with in a fairly transparent effort to solidify a business deal with Sandra’s father. Brunette, sensible and nurturing, she’s the smart choice, which would make her the choice for Leonard if not for the appearance of Michelle (Gwyneth Paltrow), a striking blonde with thorny issues – a bothersome father, a drug addiction, a relationship with a married lawyer colleague (Elias Koteas) who pays for her apartment in Leonard’s parents’ building – that strike a chord with troubled Leonard. They’re yin-yang mother-lover poles, a dichotomy whose schematism would be vexing if not for the passion, as well as the sober rationalism, with which Gray dramatizes the scenario. Not once does the director treat his material with anything less than heartfelt intensity free of winks, nudges or concessions to overblown hysterics. Instead he focuses so intently on character details (such as Leonard’s idiosyncratic habit of counting train cars as they approach a station) and setting (the blustery cold of an apartment building rooftop, the euphoric, sizzling-color energy of a club, all captured in beautifully unfussy, classical widescreen) that the gradual development and resolution of the plot seems not rote but fervent, prickly, alive.
Conscious that Sandra is maternal and reliable (“I want to take care of you” she tells him over lunch), and incapable of squelching his uncontrollable ardor for Michelle, Leonard ensnares himself in a situation that must, inevitably, lead to a choice between following his head and his heart, between remaining in his socioeconomic class or venturing outside it, between embracing home or plunging headfirst into the wild, vast unknown. Emboldened by performances – Phoenix needy and reckless, Shaw invitingly anodyne, Paltrow desperate and messily desirable – whose unaffectedness obliterates the roles’ conventionality, the passionate Two Lovers eventually sides with its protagonist’s more imprudent impulses. However, if Gray’s film is romantic, it’s not of a comforting sort, miring itself in the implacable irrationality of desire, and the self-destruction that it can wreak. Barreling forward, engagement ring in pocket, to a final decision, Leonard is cast as a man in thrall to emotions over which he has no reign, and in his helplessness – and his decision to follow said feelings through to their risky conclusion – Gray finds as much sorrow as bliss. Love is exhilarating, maddening and cruel in Two Lovers, and tragedy, if one might call it that, comes not just from painful loss, but from being forced to compromise, to settle for more than one could have hoped for and yet less than one momentarily dared to dream.