The opening scene of Like Crazy suggests that a story will be woven that examines love under the lens of the primary mode of twenty-first century interaction: social networking, where each action of the individual is about “your space.” And, at times, our familiarity with the isolation of social media sites and their influence on our responses and reactions becomes apparent, but for the most part, this film is about infatuation and idealized love – an oxymoron if there ever was one.
When it comes to love, I am not a born-again Cynic, but to idealize it in any sense is to set yourself up for failure, primarily because human nature dictates that we are flawed creatures, peculiar organisms who often sabotage ourselves in the face of the ideal, somehow recognizing when we are about to sentence ourselves to a night on the couch, yet continuing to move forward with a stream of verbal paraquat.
That said, Like Crazy is a welcome breath of fresh air to the tired genre of “forbidden love.” This is not so much because the prohibition hinges on Anna’s violation of her “prior visa” when she chose to stay in California for the summer with Jacob instead of going back to London for a few months. Rather, for the most part, the overly cloying goodbyes are elided, and the painful distance between the two is exemplified through the prelude to the various departures and their aftermath. Instead of a tearful goodbye in an airport, we see Anna (Felicity Jones) and Jacob (Anton Yelchin) riding a tram to Heathrow, sharing a somber gaze that portends the next few months. The camera cuts between the two a handful of times and then to a shot of Anna on the same tram, staring at an empty seat across from her.
We are unaware of whether this is moments after Jacob has boarded or a few days later, but her look says that she’s affected, and that this is the consequence of choosing to “take each day as it comes.” In itself, this is a wonderful, stress-allaying sentiment, but hardly practical inasmuch as it is the days apart that tests the love. The emotional outburst that we assume take place before boarding a plane are familiar and now serve as marshmallowy filler. So, Like Crazy keeps us updated on the plight of Jacob and Anna through glimpses of their respective lives and momentary vignettes between visits – like a stream of consciousness Facebook page.
And, this gilds Jacob and Anna’s anticipated interactions with a genuine sweetness without being excessively saccharine. Her little dancing feet and his schoolboy grin are not overshadowed by the quotidian bleats “Please don’t go!” or “I’ll write you every day!”
Furthermore, it’s these vignettes that make the uncomfortable stabs at levity stand out. We know the inevitable, and so do they, so we chuckle as they pretend to, and then we do our best to move on our way along with the characters. Anna goes out to pubs with friends and presumably has a handful of trysts. As does Jacob, which leads to the ultimately silly question “have you been sleeping with loads of people?” While his tone suggests playfulness, he doesn’t want an answer – who would? – and we know this is an impossible question to answer. If Anna says “no,” then she’s lying and will feel guilty – even if “loads” is a stretch. If she says “yes,” then Jacob is emasculated.
However, this brief interaction – on the part of the film, at least – is innocent in its intention: to show us the precariousness of long distance relationships. This is not to say that they never work, but when each partner is tasked with cramming six months of a relationship into a week-long window, each may feel like they’re less a “part of [the other’s] life,” so much as “on vacation.” The doubly difficult aspect of these relationships, as illustrated in the movie, is the refusal to acknowledge its demise, despite agreement to see – and practically move in – with other people. Inevitably, “killing time” mingles in the gray area of “moving forward,” and this creates heartache for multiple people.
If nothing else, Like Crazy is a declaration that “marriage” is not an analgesic, nor will it remedy any problems; it’s more likely to exacerbate them.
In the end, this film doesn’t satiate a desire to see a couple live happily ever after. It also doesn’t trash the notion that it’s possible. Instead, it shows the difficulties in finding, securing, and maintaining the idealized romance.
