by Cris Mora-Villa, Contributing Writer
There are a number of different perspectives the average movie watcher can have when digesting Michael Shanks’ feature directorial debut, Together. Its firm roots in horror, a genre capable of amassing a wide audience, would most definitely attract the differing viewpoints I have in mind. Those viewpoints being any and all contrasting variants of one’s relationship status/history. This thought came to me when I arrived early for my showtime and saw a proportional number of couples enter the theater. As the film unfolded, I wondered how their interpretation of the film’s themes might differ from my own. For the sake of transparency on my perspective, I have never been in a relationship akin to the one shown here. A glimpse into my personal life would not normally warrant a mention, but this particular movie feels especially attuned to the individual’s connection to romantic partnerships on a thematic level with one hand, all while using to the other to satiate a visceral need for grotesque bodily machinations that deliver exactly what the audience wants.
We follow Tim (Dave Franco) and Millie (Alison Brie), a couple whose decade-long relationship faces immense strain when a move to the isolated suburbs brings them in contact with an unknown substance that physically merges the bodies of those who consume it. At one level, while the central metaphor is a tad self-explanatory, it remains no less impactful once the film begins to play its cards in the vein of getting the viewer to empathize with Tim and Millie. The main idea that Shanks and company are exploring is an incredibly intriguing one. Examining an all-too-real world situation like the dissolution of a relationship is rife for mining some very incisive commentary on how love can evolve over time. Part of what makes the film resonate so deeply for those who have stood in Tim or Millie’s shoes is the details given for how this pairing has arrived at this point in their relationship. The set-upon character dynamic between Tim and Mille as they’re introduced feels immediately lived in, as if the characters are meant to resemble a kind of couple one would know in everyday life. When that level of character specificity is a key part of your movie, it is to its benefit that we have a real life couple at the helm to experience this journey through.
Brie and Franco have been together for over a decade, making them an effortlessly believable surrogate to embody their characters. Look at their run on the press circuit when promoting the movie to get a sense of the kind of energy they emit by just being together. In much the same way these two just know how to turn on their chemistry at a moment’s notice, they’re able to tap into something incredibly vulnerable and honest. Both Tim and Millie will at various points allude to the issues that are bubbling under the surface during this tumultuous period of their relationship, but never outright address them until things reach their boiling point. Because to confront the issues that bring about emotional discomfort is a scary proposition in of itself, especially if what that means is admitting failure or inadequacy. Codependency rests at the center of this tale, acting as a framework which incentivizes each half to chalk up their respective grievances to what is expected out of being with someone for so long. As far as what the movie has to say about that stance, it’s a bit complicated to say once we arrive at its ending.
Many of the details surrounding the growing flaws in Tim and Millie’s relationship do admittedly verge on spoiler territory (which I will steer clear of), but the substance and general story purpose behind those flaws do matter in their added subtext towards the merging of bodies. Severe points of contention recur throughout the film, such as the value placed on one’s sacrifice in a relationship, waning passion, an inability to deal with traumatic life events, a lack of singular identity, physical and emotional impotence, etc. Every one of these facets could in other circumstances be simple roadblocks that could just be worked on in order to move past them. With the added element of the “mysterious substance,” their weight is amplified in now literally being unable to separate on their own accord. It’s common to perceive the notion of “splitting up” as an uncomfortable point of discussion. Neither Tim or Millie are eager to cross that bridge. If not just out of the fear of losing the life they’ve built, but also the actual desire to want to stay together as they do really love each other. The time before one meets the love of their life is itself a time of exploration. It’s clear that Tim and Millie sought and found something that is worth fighting for in that time. But sometimes love is not enough, and making a change is what is actually needed in one’s life. In conjunction with the film’s ending, a change is most certainly arrived at that brings the central conflict to a close, but what it actually meant symbolically feels surprisingly ambiguous.
The intent behind Millie and Tim’s potential melding on a plot level is not for me to disclose here for spoilers’ sake, but the emotional and physiological implications are another matter. As the tension escalates and one party is continually struggling to make sense of this extremely odd situation, the dreaded words are eventually uttered by the other party. Words we’ve been waiting to hear since the very beginning and they rang true with an unceremonious intent. The words being, “I don’t want you.” This isn’t the emotional climax of the film, but it is the point of demarcation that its ending seeks to counteract by exploring to the fullest extent the limits of its premise and setting. Take one look at the film’s marketing and you’ll get a vibe for the kind of energy Together has in store: an emotional violence that is present in the central text that is subsequently matched by a horror soaked aesthetic with an imaginative bend. Its creativity knows no bounds, as I can earnestly say the ending was not at all what I expected, so much so that it borders on anticlimactic. The ending unquestionably leaves a lot to chew on for how it executes its ideas visually and how that gels with the complexity of what we the audience have seen up to this point. On the back of that, the other major point of discussion I must delve into is the cinematic form the film is presented in.
I have heard David Cronenberg come up as a strong influence over this film. That makes perfect sense, considering he is the body horror master. While I may only have a limited grasp of Cronenberg’s filmography, there were other connections that crossed my mind in regards to how Together fits into its genre(s), and how well does it succeed in connecting that to what it wants to discuss thematically. The relationship-heavy subject matter greatly invoked memories of a film like Midsommar, which eloquently balances its horror aesthetic with a key focus on expanding its themes in order to create a viscerally cinematic experience. I make this comparison very favorably, as Shanks’ direction isn’t an open imitator of his inspirations. Together may share ground with other contemporary works both tonally and narratively, but the meat of the movie feels original. On this point, take into account two recently released movies that are arguably in conversation with this film: Companion and Heart Eyes. There is a strong watchability factor shared between all three movies, but those two films have differing goals in mind. Heart Eyes feels trapped by the slasher genre conventions to ascend past its modest flavoring and discuss much of anything related to dating. Companion is too didactic for its message to ring true without stumbling over itself as a twist heavy movie. Together doesn’t have these problems, and I love it for that, but it still stumbles in places.
Two additional films that also came to mind while watching this film were The Substance and Bring Her Back. Comparing and contrasting the individual qualities of movies arguably isn’t the best signifier when making an assessment, but there are unique choices made both about this movie and about the two aforementioned movies that hold water for how they are able to ascend past other movies that just do not work as well. Bring Her Back and The Substance are not inherently films about dating or relationships, but there is connective tissue by way of codependency. For The Substance, it’s about the crushing desire to maintain beauty in the face of aging. In Bring Her Back, it’s about being unable to accept loss and clinging to what once was. Each film is obsessive and biting, and wears its worn heart on its sleeve to create its own sensation, also not unlike Midsommar. For me, there is something transgressive about that trio of films that Together can’t quite achieve. What I attribute to that being the case is the seasoning layered over it that the other two films simply achieve more artfully. The body horror is grotesquely remarkable in The Substance. Bring Her Back in its inclusion of cults is so vibrationally dirty and willing to indulge in the grime of its world that it also has a distinctive afterglow. Together does the body horror and has a cult-adjoined story grounding its characters to the premise, but neither is as deftly executed as the examples cited, in turn defanging the film to some degree.
That is one nitpick I have of the picture, but it’s not too much of a titration, for the film is still able to do more right than wrong. I come back to the “I don’t want you” moment as a pivotal scene. While I alluded to my own personal history regarding relationships, this is the part of the film that I can relate to the most. From my position, I know how much it can suck in the moment to have that intent aimed towards you and not have the self awareness to take in personal growth as the perspective doesn’t come until after. I’ve never been in a decade-spanning relationship, but I know people who have. To have that feeling amplified years over is something I know must bring its own sense of pain. There could be some projection on my part, but this comes from as much of an objective perspective that I can have. To look from a distance and perceive the emotional depth that could be had from for another with more of a personal investment. Subjectivity will always play a role in the consumption of art, so I understand that for some viewers certain things in this film will ring more true to them than they do for me. If you see yourself in the characters of Tim or Millie, then I feel that says something about the effect this picture can have. And in that case, a kudos feels warranted towards Shanks, Brie, and Franco for finding and committing to a genuine perspective that feels close to them. Together may not be the greatest film of the year, but it’s absolutely a cut above the other horror and/or romance films with little to say.
Rating: High Side of Liked It
Together is currently playing in theaters
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