Two for the Road (1967)

Marriage: the essential glue of the social fabric or the unrelenting battlefield of the sexes? Contemporary politics has cordoned it off for a different war altogether, hoping to define it in such a way as to include or exclude its practitioners based on sexual orientation. Regardless of one’s take on the subject, marriage remains a predominate institution of cultural formality, a guiding force in matters of love and great fodder for the art of the romantic comedy.

In the mid to late ‘60s, increases in the divorce rate, infidelities, shifting sexual mores, morphing gender roles, couples counseling, trial separations and cohabitation began to cause cracks in the traditional pillars of matrimony. A reassessment was in order. The stringent rules of the institution could no longer hold against the forces demanding political, cultural and social change.

It was in 1967 that filmmaker Stanley Donen decided to address some of these issues in Two for the Road, a fun yet piercing look into the twelve year relationship of one particular couple. This would not be a typical Hollywood love story. Moviegoers at the time were demanding more from their films. The quaint and convenient relationship pictures of the past were too neat, clean and packaged. With a decidedly European cinematic sensibility, Donen delivered a romantic comedy, disguised as a road movie, replete with humor, style, honesty and flair.

Donen rose up the Hollywood ladder as a dancer and choreographer. His early successes were in collaborative efforts with Gene Kelly (choreography and direction) in On the Town (1949) and Singin’ in the Rain (1952) the latter of which is regarded by many as the greatest musical of all time. He had some successful projects of his own, most notably 1951’s Royal Wedding (with Fred Astaire), Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954), 1957’s Funny Face (with Audrey Hepburn and Astaire again) and The Pajama Game (with Doris Day). In 1958, with Damn Yankees!, it seemed as if Donen was forever destined to the limitations of the musical genre but that same year he branched out with the Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman fueled romantic comedy Indiscreet. He continued this movement away from the musical pigeonhole with The Grass is Greener (1960), an unacknowledged Hitchcock homage in 1963’s Charade (again with Hepburn) and the 1966 thriller Arabesque. However, it was the following year (1967) that he directed his two finest works; the farcical, silly and hilarious Bedazzled with Peter Cook and Dudley Moore and Two for the Road. He has worked sparingly since and one wonders whether the death of the musical affected his outlook toward the industry.

Donen would pair his favorite actress, Audrey Hepburn, with Albert Finney for the roles of Joanna and Mark Wallace, the married couple whose relationship is explored in Two for the Road. Finney’s somewhat burly, brusque style is a complimentary juxtaposition to the delicate, swan-like manner of Hepburn. As a married couple, the two characters have not degraded themselves to the level of horrific, emotional game playing that define George and Martha in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, but they are also not Ozzie and Harriet Nelson. They fondly refer to each other as “Bitch” and “Bastard”, both has had extramarital affairs, they have procreated without mutual consent and like most couples, they have lied and withheld desires and truths from one another. Their interactions have become routine and both of them are disillusioned as to the relationship.

A running gag in the film has the characters ask themselves, “What kind of people just sit in a restaurant and don’t say one word to each other?” The response is inevitably, “Married people”.

Donen, with screenwriter Frederic Raphael (Darling, Far From the Maddening Crowd, Eyes Wide Shut), structured a non-linear narrative (with interspersed flashbacks and flash forwards) showing us four separate time periods in the couple’s relationship during their journeys to the south of France. It was a very innovative (and highly noncommercial) technique for the time. The viewer is always kept focused and chronologically grounded by the use of props, modes of transportation, costuming, hairstyles and dialogue. The “road movie” aspect of the picture also thematically lends a sense of transience to the various stages of the relationship. Many of the scenes are segued by automobiles moving from one shot into another. “The road” becomes simple metaphor for marriage and life.

Mark (Finney) is an architect, Joanna (Hepburn) his wife. The film opens in the present day as the two are headed (again) to the Riviera. They are distant to each other. Familiarity has bred contempt. They mask their annoyance with one another in clipped digs. When Mark accuses her of sniping at him, she claims she hasn’t said a word. He replies, “Just because you use a silencer doesn’t mean you’re not a sniper”.

The film flashes back to other stages of their relationship. Their meeting as young travelers, their first car trip together as a newly married couple and a disastrous but bonding excursion with the family of Mark’s old American flame (and their hellion child). All of these scenarios make us realize that despite the current coldness, the two truly love each other and should be together. Their flaws and tendencies become exasperating at times, humorous in others, but always remain real and forgivable.

Hepburn’s Joanna is her finest screen moment. Her style as the slender gamine has never been more apropos. Joanna is always equal to Mark’s bluster and she is the one who continually mollifies him with humor, understanding or love (and often sex). She is the emotional balm to his petulance. Hepburn originally turned down the role, citing the confusing narrative structure and the character’s harder edges as being too difficult for her. A rewrite by Raphael and coaxing from Donen changed her mind. The result is the most layered and nuanced performance of her career. Gone is the delicate daisy that defined her early roles and in its place is a mature, developed rose with a few thorns. She was never more radiant. Donen claims he has never enjoyed her more.

Finney’s Mark is the stranger character of the two. Head strong, witty and assured, he is also clumsy, forgetful, cheap and often emotionally immature. His professional success changes him (and regrettably) the fun loving nature of their relationship. They both harden with years but Mark is the one who initially closes off. His early buffoonery (Joanna’s favorite quality in him) is replaced by careerism and humorlessness. Finney’s performance is dead on. His transition from jovial free spirit to inured husband and father is tragically accurate. He never allows Mark to become unlikable though. We understand the shift in his personality and the pathos is genuine.

It is remarkable how this film has held up over the years. It succumbs to none of the trappings that other romantic comedies of the period (or before) suffer. The language is never antiquated. The themes and gender expectations are startlingly contemporary. The location shooting (all in France) is beautiful. The editing is brisk. The narrative structure remains experimentally modern. Simply remove the fashion (some of Hepburn’s outfits are hilariously ‘60s chic) and some dance moves from a party at the film’s end and you have a timeless classic.

The film’s true beauty lies in its voyeuristic, often difficult glimpse into the personal successes and failings of two people who you know can do better. Relationships can be hard and when a movie can offer a brief insight or bring an entertaining honesty to the endeavors of love and its machinations, the magic of the cinema is indeed worthwhile. After all, there is a little bit of Mark and Joanna in every one of us. We can use the help.