Flooded with luminescence, Todd Hayne’s Carol is a rapturous example of what occurs when sumptuous cinematography and art direction meet superlative acting. Rooney Mara is absolutely devastating as Therese, a young aspiring photographer who takes on a job in a department store in the early 1950s. She meets the much older, more talkative and aristocrat-like Carol (an excellent Kate Blanchett) and the two become friends, and then more than friends.
Haynes achieves an uncanny recreation of the period. Cinematographer Ed Lachman shot the film on Super 16mm film. Their efforts produce a Film that is often eerily quiet, yet contains deep emotional detail conveyed through heightened nonverbal looks, glances, and facial gestures. The budding relationship and its evolution are oh so gently and unmistakably brought to the screen. Likewise, the era’s impossibly frustrating intolerance for the two women’s forbidden love is also clearly defined. Child custody, the nastiest of revenges, serves as the ultimate weapon against their relationship. Carol, whose one overriding trait is at first confidence, faces a disorienting challenge and a heartbreaking sacrifice.
Simultaneously, Therese, at first vulnerable and wide-open, has grown up before our eyes. She encounters shocking experiences that bring emotional complexity into her life. Mara, who won the Best Actress award for Carol at Cannes, was very good in David Fincher’s The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, but here she displays a rare screen presence. She’s the girl-next-door alright, but then her depth, awakened by Carol and then seemingly a force of its own, incrementally reveals itself. The film is based on Patricia Highsmith’s 1952 novel, The Price of Salt, which was autobiographical and originally written under a pseudonym, and adapted for the screen by Phyllis Nagy.
Haynes also directed the excellent Safe and the daring Dylan biopic I’m Not There. His Far From Heaven is similarly based in the 1950s, but its melodramatic take on the films of Douglas Sirk puts it in a different hemisphere from Carol. Yet both films display Haynes’ gift for craftsmanship. With its visual elements complimented by a haunting score by Carter Burwell, Carol is a gorgeous film yet one whose beauty goes way beyond skin deep.
I watched this film more than two months ago and certain scenes have resonated with me practically daily. The film’s closing scene is so perfect and stunning, I wanted to stay in my chair at the theater for a few hours and simply savor it. Haynes does more with less, and you get the feeling Mara and Blanchett could have been equally effective had this been a silent film. When characters stay etched in the consciousness to this extent, and when a film can achieve shots that should be made into made into stills and put into museums, I’d say you have no less than a classic film.
Oppression + Out Of This World Craftsmanship / 1950s Style…5 stars (out of 5)