Yesterday I saw Hannah Fidell's 2015 film 6 Years, which features raw and brilliant (mostly) improvised performances by Taissa Farmiga and Ben Rosenfield, the script having been not much more than a 40-page outline. Executive-produced by Mark and Jay Duplass, it's a coming-of-age drama wherein the disintegration of a young couple's (you guessed it) six-year relationship unfolds, brought about by a cascading sequence of disagreements and diverging life choices as they navigate their final years in college.
Movies that make me wistful are my favorite kind. In the opening montage, and throughout the film when they're not busy biting each other's heads off, viewers are provided glimpses of the dynamic between Mel (Farmiga) and Dan (Rosenfield), and it is all kinds of intimate and ideal, at least on the surface. The small details add up and make you want to root for this twosome to thrive: They were next-door neighbors. They've been together since they were fifteen (my estimate). They lost their virginity to one another. They're comfortable and secure and beautiful and untouchable.
This was immensely helped by the crazy good chemistry between the two leads. I swear, their sheer togetherness jumped off the screen so naturally it began to make me feel intrusive, like I was watching an actual longtime couple instead of a pair of actors.
As individuals, both Mel and Dan are completely fleshed out and true to life, each with their own personalities, dreams, differences, plans and paths, lives outside of their relationship, and tons of flaws and bad choices, and they both go through character developments separate from and in sync with one another. I suspect this is a result of the improvisation techniques, because their reactions feel more real and their actors are more invested and injected into them this way.
At its low points, 6 Years is predictable at times and offers no resolution to each conflict presented, ending on a vague interrobang of some sort. But at its best, it is a well-shot and thought-out progression of a doomed romance, taking its time to show you how its foundations crumbled in extremely painful ways, every intense moment leading into another until it's clear as day. And still you can feel the love linger. You find yourself wanting to shake the characters and yell at them, snap them back to attention, because it makes you care. The denouement is abrupt, but with enough thought it's very satisfying.
Compare Celeste and Jesse Forever. It reminded me somehow of Jeux d'enfants, but that's just me.
It's not perfect, at particular scenes even hideous, but it's human, which is the most we can ever hope for sometimes.
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