Blue Valentine

Somewhere in the middle of this movie, maybe a little bit past the middle, Dean (Ryan Gosling) sings "You always hurt the ones you love" (accompanying himself of ukulele) while Cyndie (Michelle Williams) dances. They've just met and they're in the midst of those marvelous moments when, as the bard puts it, "they have exchanged eyes." For that scene and the scenes that run up to and away from it alone the movie is worth watching. That is, if you don't mind being reminded (hopefully you've got a moment like this to be reminded of, to hang onto, to cry about) about a time when you were unreasonable and stupid, but you believed that was actually everyone else's problem.

The mechanics of falling in love are not the only issue here, though they figure prominently. For instance, are "on the rebound" start-ups doomed? Can your parents hang-ups and failings be overcome? Is getting beat up for your girl a turn-on? Should you rent a theme room to try to spice it up? Should you marry someone who's having someone else's child? Should you marry someone who proposes to you after you've walked out of an abortion clinic, having decided against the procedure? Are guys actually more romantic than girls because they really do fall in love (they're always first ... in so many ways ...), while girls tend to settle for boring bread-winners?

What sets this movie apart from other oh-crap-that-relationship-is-going-down-the-crapper stories is the way the story gets delivered. The evidence of the hand of the filmmaker is minimal. Present blends into flashback and back into present without the obvious signage. You have to figure it out. And since you're not an idiot, you do. Further, the everyday things the characters say and do provide all the weight necessary. They find the dead dog, and they cry. They rent the "Spaceship" theme room and "go into the future." He throws away his ring in anger, and then won't get into the car before he finds it. He finally walks away while the neighbours blow off fourth of July fireworks and she carries in the little girl who starts crying because she thinks she's not allowed to watch the show.

They're all around us, these markers of significance, shooting off into the sky in multi-colour barrages. Not until that pain invades our lives do we look up to note them. Sometimes not even then, but they're still there. Can you tell me why we always hurt the ones we love?