Grief is a curious emotion. It can bring out the poet in some people, and the sleeping dog in others. American gay couple Mark and Joshua are undergoing their own loss, which has put a dampener on their blissful relationship. Suddenly friendly conversations over cups of coffee have taken a darker, denser meaning. Over the course of the movie, the two men have to tackle this devastating absence in their own way.
During one heightened sequence, a man slinks into a bath with a girl, blood splattered all around them. The two sit in this space, keen to focus on the silence. There are no heroic gestures, or noble speeches. Only stillness. This is like something a viewer might see in The Tree of Life (Terence Malick,2011), a stoic, spiritual exploration over loss; the emptiness holding greater emphasis than the noise around them. But Mark and Joshua are only too aware of the vastness that descends their domicile, two elderly men blanketed in sheets, chagrin and sadness. These near-fantasy sequences that pad out the work only serve to highlight the vacant moments the couple endure in their private moments together.
It’s rare to see a queer film of this magnitude deal with small nothings as refreshingly honest as it does here. If You Should Leave Before Me delivers on this potential, delving into the chats married people enjoy daily. The duo apologise to one another for snotty, snide comments, or clarify whether or not the “burned mouths” was the other’s fault. This element of reality aids the power of the project, as it makes the pair seem relatable.
Mark and Joshua snuggle up in bed during a storm, an energetic blend of flashing lights and disembodied yelps from the actors. The action showcases the turbulent moments this married item undergoes. The camera fades in and out, unsettling the people watching the film. Weather changes direction, tempo and flavour. And the pain lingers on in the memories.
A question haunts the protagonists: “if you could go back, would you do it differently?”. Like the family in Ordinary People (Robert Redford, 1980), the decision to carry on with life as normal has consequences, as flashbacks, souvenirs and minutiae scare the civilians in question. A reflection inside the microwave reveals not just the hero’s image, but their sadness and dour appearance. Intricate mise-en-scene permeates If You Should Leave Before Me, but the visuals rarely distract from the central narrative.
This feature utilises a number of clever camera shots: high-angles, close-ups, occasional hand-held. The camera spins around a library, showcasing the confusion and irritation they are undergoing. One of the key strengths of the flick is how well it is filmed, edited and produced. What could have been a tedious experience is actually rich in scope and style. If You Should Leave Before Me is firmly rooted in an authentic relationship that withstands weather changes, directorial interpolations and general mayhem. That’s real love, baby. That’s the good stuff people crave.
At 120 minutes, the film is a little overlong for the story it wishes to tell, and some of the comments about phallus feels unnecessary for a drama about loss, but the central leads are stellar, and the clever cinematic deviations add some kaleidoscopic flair to the work. Highly recommended!
The world premiere of If You Should Leave Before Me will held during the 33rd edition of Raindance, which takes place between June 18th and 27th.
