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The Age of Innocence
Directed by Martin Scorsese, 1993

Rating: 1/2
by Derek Smith 12/27/05

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.