If The One I Love was simply a straight-up character drama (or maybe a “dramedy”) about the deterioration of a marriage and the efforts to recapture what brought a particular couple together in the first place, it might be worth watching.
Elisabeth Moss and Mark Duplass are compelling enough as the leads that seeing them act out the same sorts of arguments and issues which many of us probably go to the movies to avoid doesn’t feel grinding and torturous. Sophie (Moss) and Ethan (Duplass) want to save their marriage and find the old spark that ignited their relationship.
The two are seeing a couples therapist (Ted Danson) who puts them through compatibility exercises such as each of them playing a key on the piano to see if they’re in sync. As a last resort, the therapist sends the couple on a weekend retreat to a house (with guest house) with a beautiful patio and swimming pool in the sort of idyllic, tree-filled setting that would seemingly bring anyone peace of mind and clarity of thought. Every couple who’s gone on that retreat comes back, in the therapist’s words, “renewed.”
Unfortunately, each character seems to fall into a rather typical role. Sophie wants Ethan to put a legitimate effort into this and work to save their marriage. Ethan is willing to play along, yet seems to wonder if this whole process is necessary. Can’t they just figure this out and fix the relationship on their own? Had writer Justin Lader and director Charlie McDowell stayed on that path, they likely would have created a story that we’ve mostly seen before, with an outcome that could probably be predicted.
But Lader and McDowell have something far different in mind, applying a devious twist to this kind of story, which is what makes The One I Love stand out from other relationship dramas. It’s possible, however, that the twist is so unusual, so flat-out wacky that the story can’t really sustain the premise and can only take it so far.
Here’s where we run into a dilemma when discussing The One I Love. I imagine that some — maybe many — would consider it a huge spoiler to discuss the twist that makes the story distinct. Yet this development is revealed early on in the film, approximately 20 minutes in. So if the movie takes that twist and spends the rest of its hour-plus run time to deal with the curiosities and consequences of what Sophie and Ethan are confronted with, is revealing this plot point really a spoiler?
I suppose that’s for you to decide as a viewer. I didn’t know the twist going in and am glad I didn’t. Yet I really can’t say for certain that knowing would have affected my enjoyment of the movie at all. The film’s trailer makes it clear that something strange is going on, kind of a Charlie Kaufman-esque quirk that makes this story about more than just the question of whether or not these two kids will make their marriage work.
So let’s just draw the line here. If you don’t want to know the secret of The One I Love and want to have all potential surprises saved, you can probably stop reading. Just know that the movie is much more than what I described in the first paragraphs of this review. It becomes something much more than a story about a couple trying to save its marriage. Whether or not you enjoy it depends on how far you’re willing to go with the twist and if you’re convinced the filmmakers did the best they could with the established premise. I think the movie is worth your time.
OK, we’ll venture into spoiler territory from here on out. Sophie and Ethan enjoy the house and being away from the noise of their everyday lives. This is a chance for them to focus on each other and repair their marriage. It’s especially enjoyable when the two take things to the guest house, where all of their inherent issues don’t seem to matter and don’t seem to exist. This is what their relationship was like when they first met.
However, it’s just a little too perfect. When Sophie meets Ethan in the guest house, he’s attentive, thoughtful, artistic and frankly, more interested in being fit. When Ethan meets Sophie, she just wants to be with him, listening to whatever he says, and indulging vices — such as eating bacon — that were previously off-limits. It’s exactly what each of them wants if they’re willing to just let go of their misgivings — and embrace what’s happening.
Yet neither Sophie nor Ethan can shut off the rational part of their minds. And circumstances eventually make it clear that something near-impossible is happening. How can the two of them have just had sex in the guest house, when Sophie returns to the main house and sees Ethan sleeping on the couch? How can Sophie be in the shower of the guest house when Ethan returns to the main residence and sees her making coffee in the kitchen?
What is really going on here? Are the doppelgangers Sophie and Ethan encounter in the guest house creations of their imagination? Are they robots? Are they actors who have somehow been made to look exactly (with style exceptions) like their counterparts? Is that guest house, as Sophie asks, the gateway into another dimension?
Despite this sci-fi direction, I’d argue that The One I Love is still fundamentally about the nature of relationships.
Can two people only get along when one says everything the other wants to hear, does everything the other wants to do? Or is what makes a relationship real and vital the differences and disagreements that two people will inevitably encounter? What if one person basically wants an automaton with the ideal personality who seems like the perfect mate? What if the other just can’t buy into something that doesn’t feel right because nothing is perfect?
I’m not certain if those are the questions Lader and McDowell really want to explore, as the question of what exactly these Sophie and Ethan doubles are overwhelms the story and the setting veers further into sci-fi territory. But they’re the questions I found myself pondering as I left the theater, not how the therapist created this circumstance for his patients.
To me, that’s the strength of the movie. I cared about these characters. And ultimately, I loved where the story leaves the audience — asking one last question that just seems devious to plant in your head as the credits roll.
