THE STORY – Maya, a smart, wry nurse, is swept up in an immersive love that sets her life on a trajectory she never would have imagined.
THE CAST – Margaret Qualley, Patrick Schwarzenegger, Aaron Pierre, Gabriel Basso, Catherine Keener, Tamara Lawrance & Corey Johnson
THE TEAM – Rachel Morrison (Director) & Julia Cox (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 109 Minutes
For her sophomore picture, director Rachel Morrison brings to the screen a sweeping melodrama about love and loss starring Margaret Qualley, based on a script by Julia Cox. It’s fitting that Ryan Gosling produced this film, which has notes from “The Notebook” and other sweeping romantic epics. The end result, thanks to a powerful supporting performance by Catherine Keener, a committed turn by Qualley, and a life-affirming message, is one of the most touching films to come out of this year’s Toronto International Film Festival.
Qualley is Maya, a good looking young nurse living in Boston. She seems carefree and the movie’s title card announces she is only 26. Soon, girl meets boy and you can imagine what happens next. The guy in question is Charlie, played by the charming Gabriel Basso. Charlie is as young, soulful, and good looking as Maya, and they hit if off after a cheesy meet-cute, silly one-liners, and a well-placed game of truth or dare. The film’s first half focuses almost exclusively on their relationship, how they fall madly in love and become a part of each other’s lives. Maya essentially comes from no family, being the product of a one-night stand and a mother who was too young and remains too immature. Charlie comes from a big, sprawling New England family, with the nurturing matriarch played by Keener at its helm. The only real person in Maya’s life is Jason (Patric Schwarzenegger), who soon becomes best buds with Charlie is well.
In this first half, Morrison uses her keen eye to offer romantic vistas of the couple strolling along Boston. Morrison was a gifted cinematographer (think “Black Panther” and “Mudbound”) before becoming a director, and there are enough shots of falling orange leaves, bridges, and lakes to set up Maya and Charlie’s deepening romance. Music also does a lot of work here, and both the romantic and the classical songs Morrison selects become a part of Maya’s memory, and the audience’s as well. The saccharine is so heavy that the wheels nearly come off altogether, even though it is obvious that the extended setup is needed to understand the gravity of what follows. Because then, disaster does strike. The COVID pandemic robs Maya of the life she was well on her way to building; “Love of Your Life” shifts instantly in tone and mood. The action shifts to Lisbon and, later, London. The vistas are still pretty, but the mood is decidedly darker and grittier. Not only is Maya’s hair darker and more unkept, cigarettes litter her mouth and she ambulates mostly at night or in the shadows. Long gone are the beautiful fall afternoons along the Charles River. Maya is in the depths of her despair, haunted by indelible feelings of sadness, guilt, and sorrow. Qualley is asked to perform at a higher level of difficulty here and delivers the best moments of her performance. Smiling and laughing infectiously as she did when she was younger comes naturally to here. Grief masquerading as anger is much harder to pull off, and she does so effectively.
“Love of your Life” kicks it into high gear, at long last, exactly at the halfway point, when Maya is 31. The audience then comes to understand and appreciate the necessity and even beautiful sadness of the long setup. At this point, Maya begins to process what has happened to her. A particularly painful moment is when, by coincidence, she reconnects with the past she tried to bury while dining in London. Maya begins to peel back the layers of realization, of understanding, of coping.
Maya copes in a myriad of ways. Writing. Walking. Drinking. Having sex. When she walks, she likes to be a stranger, to be alone, a purpose that Europe and also Asia serve. Again, these are relatable experiences, as anyone who has lost themselves as a foreigner in another land can attest. For Maya, this comes even more naturally, since she is untethered to any particular place and has no imbedded family. It is a heartbreaking tale but also inspiring. At other moments, she vocalizes what she is feeling. She had the life she wanted, she got the “thing” that everyone wants, and lost it. She could picture her life exactly as it would have played out, but it did not go that way. In a moment of levity, an AI robot delivers a seemingly cheeky but actually meaningful line: that a human life is a collection of random experiences without much meaning to the universe. Morrison and Cox’s point is clear – that this cynical reality makes it no less affecting for those whose lives are at issue. As empty as her life feels, Maya’s life is plentiful, bursting even, thanks to her own beautiful determination.
In one of the film’s most impactful moments, Keener delivers the punchline, “There is no end to grief.” Then she adds, devastated, that there is also no end to love. For anyone who has experienced loss, this moment touches the heartstrings. For those who have not, it is a valuable lesson, one that these immensely gifted actors and filmmakers impart thoughtfully. There really is a lot to love about this labor of love – albeit melodramatic – picture. The cliché that movies are supposed to make us feel has never been truer or better delivered.
By the time “Love of Your Life” reaches its final passages, whatever apparent missteps have been entirely erased by the emotional truth the movie has managed to uncover. “Love of Your Life” is about what remains after the life you imagined has disappeared, of what is left when our loved ones are gone, of how one can love the world through our own eyes, even when lonely. It is about the beautiful and necessary work of continuing anyway. It is sentimental, yes, and some may say too much so. But it is deeply felt and profoundly insightful, honestly performed and, in its critical moments, genuinely moving. More than that, it understands something essential about grief and love: that neither ever really leave us, and that surviving their coexistence is one of the hardest, most human things we can be asked to do.
