Private Life
(2018 Sundance Film Festival Review)
Image: Sundance Film Festival
A rich film with the confidence to take its time, allowing its characters to unfurl and its themes to grow and develop, Private Life is a quietly remarkable comedy-drama about family, marriage and getting older. To accomplish all that, writer-director Tamara Jenkins uses as her entryway a familiar scenario: a fortysomething couple struggling to have a baby. Led by terrific, tricky performances from Paul Giamatti and Kathryn Hahn, Private Life keeps shifting and surprising, never offering anything dramatically monumental but speaking precisely about the bonds between people—how they can be threatened but also renewed.
Giamatti and Hahn play Richard and Rachel, who have been married for quite some time, each of them enjoying a satisfying creative life in New York City. (He’s a theater director; she’s a playwright and author.) But in recent years, they’ve struggled to conceive, a process that no amount of fertility treatments has been able to remedy. (They’ve tried adopting, too, which has produced a series of other heartbreaks.) Private Life devotes a significant amount of its early running time to showing how couples such as Richard and Rachel undergo IVF, which has its comic moments but is largely depressingly clinical. (Adding to the despair are the long lines of other expectant couples Richard and Rachel see in the waiting rooms sitting alongside them.)
This could be the setup for a zany baby-fever comedy, but Jenkins (Slums of Beverly Hills, The Savages) uses the couple’s struggles to discuss far more intriguing subject matter. It’s not simply the inability to have a child that eats at these two people. Richard is sensitive about the fact that he only has one testicle, while Rachel can feel her window on motherhood shutting—and the amounts of hormones she has to take cause their own headaches. Their failure to conceive hints that they’re not young anymore and, with that, exacerbates the feelings of regret they have about the career decisions they made. Did they focus on their art at the expense of parenthood? Now that the shine is off their early creative success, is their barrenness another indication of their growing irrelevance? Perhaps most pressingly, are they obsessing about having a child because, deep down, they know their marriage has troubles?
These questions weave through Private Life, helping us to see what’s eating at Richard and Rachel, even when they don’t express it to each other. Jenkins succinctly places these characters in their particular world—that of the creative elite of New York—and although the dialogue references philosophers and Wendy Wasserstein, the filmmaker is unromantic about the limitations of living in such rarefied air. Richard and Rachel are artists whose best years are probably behind them, and their creativity and intelligence offer no buttress to the sadness and futility their infertility has provoked.