Mark Reviews Movies: TOGETHER TOGETHER

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Review by Mark Dujsik | April 22, 2021

A permeating sense of loneliness occupies the opening sections of Together Together. It's a film about two solitary people, who understand each other much more than either of them probably could have anticipated—mostly because there's almost no reason the two even would have met under normal circumstances. The circumstances that bring these two together aren't exactly what many would call "normal."

She is in her 20s, works at a coffee shop, and dreams of going to college. She has a family, to whom she never speaks, because she knows every terrible thing they will think, insinuate, and say about her. She has heard these things so many times that she has decided she doesn't need to hear them even one more time.

He is in his 40s and, after the end of a romantic relationship that he thought would last, single, living in isolated comfort from developing a social media application that just lets users anonymously look at photos of other people. It's not a sex or dating thing. It's just about the feeling of seeing strangers happy without the pressure of any kind of real or online relationship, and that pretty much tells us everything we need to know about the man who made it.

That's how Anna (Patti Harrison) and Matt (Ed Helms) live—alone, although not necessarily by choice, and kind of resigned to the idea that such is the way each of their lives will be for the foreseeable future. Matt sees some relief to that loneliness in sight. He wants a child. Anna, responding to an ad and meeting Matt for the first time in an interview, is willing to be a surrogate for the pregnancy.

She was pregnant once before as a teenager (The source of all the difficulties with her family) and gave up the baby for adoption. She can do this, and Matt agrees. They end up spending a lot of time together, because Matt is an excited and terrified single-father-to-be, who wants to make sure Anna is doing everything "right."

After a celebratory dinner when a viable embryo is transferred into Anna's uterus, Matt shows up at her job, offering a special brew of "pregnancy tea" and new, more comfortable shoes. While Anna tries to live as a normal a life as possible under the circumstances, Matt keeps calling or showing up unannounced. The two debate what each of them should be doing, and each of them learns some new things in the process—Anna in accepting help when she needs it and Matt in realizing that people need boundaries.

All of this could have gone wrong or become uncomfortable in an assortment of ways, but writer/director Nikole Beckwith avoids all of those potential downfalls and missteps. The filmmaker even addresses a few of them, primarily the idea that these two characters, placed in a pretty intimate and instantly life-changing (at least for Matt) situation, would end up as something more than partners in this reproductive transaction or friends.

So many stories have trained us to expect romance whenever two characters, such as the protagonists here, are in close proximity and spend any amount of time together. Beckwith puts a stop to those expectations at just right the moment, when we might start to fear that this particular and unique bond could transform into that something more. In the process, she even gets in a few pointed jabs at another filmmaker, who's now infamous for pairing romantic leads with decades between them (without even getting into the other reasons for his infamy—although Beckwith definitely addresses those, too).

Almost more than anything else in this film, we appreciate that determination to treat this relationship as one of growing, deepening friendship. It does away with just about every cliché we may have anticipated or feared, grounding this story in a realistic bond and a series of authentic emotions. It treats both of these characters with a level of respect that each of them deserves, while allowing them more time to work through and prepare for what will happen—to them as individuals and as friends—when the baby is born. It means that this story never loses that underlying and sometimes overwhelming sense of loneliness, which makes the burgeoning friendship funnier, sweeter, more thoughtful, and richer than it otherwise might have been.

By the end, there's a solid, real understanding of both of these characters—their dreams and fears and pains—and why—despite the age difference, contrasting attitudes, and everything else that separates them—such a genuine, meaningful bond would form between them. Helms is warm, sincere, and likeable as the hapless Matt. The character is, perhaps, clinging to the idea of life he once might have had, but he does earnestly want to start a family. Harrison's performance as the clever, often sardonic Anna, though, is the real revelation here. Anna is a young woman hiding years of hurt and sorrow beneath a cool, tough exterior, and it's moving to see how and when Harrison allows Anna some moments of openness to real pain, worry, and connection.

We believe these characters—what they have gone through, how they're coping with that, why they want more—and this connection—how all of those experiences, defenses, and hopes cut through their disparities to all of the things they share. With Together Together, Beckwith has given us a charming and considerate study of a friendship—nothing more, thankfully, and, significantly, nothing less.

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