It is
fitting that Martin
Scorsese's adaptation of Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence
opens with
a scene at the opera. From the first shot of the opera itself,
the camera
glides away from the stage, over the crowd of "ordinary" people, and
into the balconies where the upper crust of New York society, circa
1870, spend
more of their time gossiping than enjoying the entertainment they came
to
see. Here we are not only introduced to all of the major players
in the
film, but it is made clear that what is learned through whispers and
glances
can be infinitely more important than the open and idle dinner
conversations. The first act moves along at a leisurely pace
without much
plot development, but also meticulously sets forth the rules of the
society its
portraying. Without this depth of background, the love triangle
that
later develops would have little emotional resonance since its
character's
behavior would seem inexplicable. By contemporary standards,
Newland and
Countess Olenska's love affair may seem tame and possible of working,
but in
this period, the disastrous consequences that meet those who defy the
carefully
constructed mores or disturb the social equilibrium by breaking
marriages
between two powerful families, make the inevitability of all that
happens even
more poignant and devastating.
The most
fascinating aspect of
Newland and Olenska's relationship is that because they are both
presented as
free-thinking, almost rebellious types - Newland who often laughs at
the
traditions and Olenska who finds them utterly absurd upon her arrival -
their
complete lack of freedom stands out even more when the behave
against
their own instincts. Newland's decision to go through with his
marriage
to May has nothing to do with attempting to suppress his feelings for
Olenska. As he realizes that Olenska offers him true happiness,
the
overwhelming social influences (which to some degree work instinctively
on even
him) force him to sabotage any chance he has of escaping. The
lengths to
which these social constructs oppress are felt so deeply because even
the
character's that appear most likely to rebel are left helpless when
opportune
moments arise. The very thought of freedom is crushed by the
overbearing
weight of the repercussions that come with it and those who are tempted
are as
much a part of the machinery as everyone else. Although they wish
to
flee, leaving New York
means destroying what they helped to create and sustain and the fear
and guilt
become too much. The great tragedy is that the hypocrisies and
self-loathing attitudes that Newland and Olenska work to reveal are the
very
same ones that ultimately destroy everything passionate and human
within them.