“Someone to sit in my chair, and ruin my sleep, and make me aware of being alive.” These are among the words of “Being Alive,” the climactic number of Stephen Sondheim’s 1970 musical “Company,” a commentary on marriage and relationships, and a show that I’ve happened to enjoy for many years. In “Being Alive,” the protagonist Bobby is at the end of his rope. He’s 35, he’s single, and he’s finally coming to terms with what it truly means to spend the rest of his life with someone. In Noah Baumbach’s 2019 film “Marriage Story,” “Being Alive” is sung by Charlie, who is in the midst of a divorce with his wife, Nicole. As opposed to “Company,” where one contemplates marriage and commitment as a new undertaking, in “Marriage Story,” “Being Alive” is a reflection upon what once was. “Marriage Story” is the story of a loving relationship told through a bitter end.

“Marriage Story” is built on a variety of unique and ultimately successful choices that give the movie a distinct feel. Its lighting gives it a vintage quality that fits in well with the movie's melancholy tone. The topic of divorce sparks a plethora of retroactive thought and forces the characters to reckon with what is, at heart, a goodbye. If not a goodbye to people, then a goodbye to people as you knew them, and a goodbye to life as it was. The three factors that truly make the film a success are its elegant transitions between embracing emotion and coldly conveying reality, its integrity in crafting the behavior and speech of its characters, and the manner in which it toys with the allegiances of the viewer.

“Marriage Story,” first and foremost, toes the line between the hard reality of divorce and the emotion that, while not always rational, is an integral part of accurately and empathically portraying such a tumultuous change. The greatest weapon used to convey emotion in the film is Randy Newman’s score. For any viewers familiar with the Pixar movies, particularly the “Toy Story” franchise, the music in “Marriage Story” will strike a familiar tone. Composed of short melodies interwoven throughout the film’s more reflective scenes, they perfectly convey the mood through either a direct melancholy or an ironic whimsy. Particularly nice tunes include “Mommy Phase,” during which Charlie must accept that his son, Henry, prefers to spend the night with Nicole than with him, and “What I Love About Charlie,” which reprises near the film’s conclusion in a beautiful emotional coda. Alongside the acting of Adam Driver and Scarlet Johansson, who star in the film as Charlie and Nicole, the film’s score doesn’t shy away from the intrinsic emotion of ending a marriage.

On the other side of the coin, “Marriage Story” shows the hard realities of divorce by shining a light on the legal system and the ways in which it can exacerbate already existing conflicts between separating couples. The lawyers do a particularly good job of delivering this message to viewers. Nicole’s lawyer, Nora, played by Laura Dern, is the closest character the film has to a primary antagonist. (That statement may be controversial among other viewers of the film.) Her first scene, in which she convinces Nicole to hire her, is almost seductive in nature. She begins by complimenting Nicole, an actress, on her work, before asking her how she is doing. As Nicole starts to cry, Nora glides across the room to sit next to her on the couch, popping off her heels as she settles in. As she slips off her jacket, she promises that she is always available over phone or text, unless she is picking up her kids from school. She lays the groundwork for a residency battle between the family living in Charlie’s hometown of New York City versus Nicole’s hometown of LA. “We’re interested in what you want to do,” Nora says.

She references “The Waiting,” a Tom Petty song. She casually remarks that she represented Petty’s wife in their divorce. (“I got her half of that song.”) Soon, she coaxes Nicole’s story out of her, perched on the couch with her heels off, smiling coyly, listening intently. Even before Nicole is done speaking, it is clear that Nora will get what she wants, that she’s already secured her new client. During Nora’s first stint on screen, there is no music for over 20 consecutive minutes.

Jay Marotta, played by Ray Liotta, is Charlie’s lawyer. He’s a shark. Charlie chooses him over the benevolent Bert Spitz, played by Alan Alda. When asked by Nicole why he made the switch, Charlie snaps: “I needed my own asshole.” Jay is every bit as formidable as Nora. He treats Charlie more brashly and doesn’t come off as smoothly as Nora. However, when the two meet in court, it is clear that both are a force to be reckoned with. Nicole and Charlie stare blankly ahead as every detail of their life together is weaponized. It is through this remorseless cage match between Jay and Nora that the film comments on the legal system and how it widens the rift between separating couples. It demonstrates that, when winning becomes the top priority for one party, it becomes the top priority for both. Ironically, at that point, nobody wins.

“Marriage Story” knows its characters, particularly Nicole and Charlie. The movie opens with a seven-minute montage of the couple’s married life, over which Charlie first talks about what he loves about Nicole (“She really listens when someone is talking,” “she gives great presents,” “she’s competitive”) and then Nicole talks about what she loves about Charlie (“Charlie never lets other people’s opinions or any setbacks keep him from what he wants to do,” “he doesn’t look in the mirror too often,” “he’s very competitive”). These monologues serve not just as a show of what the two love about each other, but as a taste of their personality traits and decision-making tendencies. For the rest of the film, the competitive natures of both Charlie and Nicole are on display. Nicole is bitter and angry at the beginning of the movie, and hires Nora. While Charlie is amicable at the beginning of the film (“We’ll just split everything anyway… you can have most of it”), tensions rise when the debate begins to center around where their child, Henry, will live. Once Charlie realizes that he is going to lose that battle, he hires Jay, even when it’s clear that Henry wants to stay in California. He begins competing because he is forced to, but once he does his competitive nature becomes apparent as well.

Nicole, throughout the film, is clearly a good mother. “She’s a mother who plays, really plays,” Charlie says of her at the beginning. Though Henry loves both his parents, it’s clear that he largely prefers to spend time with his mother. This clearly hurts Charlie. Despite the sympathy that the viewer feels for him, it is revealed early on that Nicole’s anger toward her soon to be ex-husband is at least partially deserved.

From the outset, the film develops its characters with integrity and attention to detail. Baumbach expands his range of plausible emotional expression by making Charlie a director and Nicole an actress– occupations that are already by nature a bit dramatic. (“He cries easily in movies,” Nicole says of Charlie.) Additionally, the movie’s overall tone, expressed through acting, script, and score, underlines the implicit emotion and brutality of the divorce process. The movie steadfastly and realistically represents its characters through their words, their actions, and even their fits of tears.

“Marriage Story” plays with the viewer’s allegiance. At first, the viewer takes Charlie’s side. They see Nicole’s anger, her refusal to read what she loves about Charlie out loud during their mediating session. However, once it is revealed that Charlie cheated on Nicole while they were married, the viewer switches to Nicole’s side. It becomes clear that, despite making a serious mistake, Charlie is well-intentioned. That is why, when Nora begins communicating with Charlie, threatening to get Nicole full custody if he does not get an attorney within a short time span, the viewer begins to sympathize with Charlie again. When it becomes clear that Charlie does not understand the desire of his son to stay in California, and that he has not really heard Nicole about her wanting to live in Los Angeles, the viewer sympathizes with Nicole.

The movie climaxes in an intense screaming match between the two. By that point, the viewer’s allegiance is as muddied as the divorce process itself. Baumbach’s script, paired with a terrific cast, effectively plays with the opinion of the viewer in order to force them to adopt a relatively impartial point of view. This helps reinforce a main theme of the movie: when both sides fight to win, they both become worse off. In the midst of the movie, standing in his shaded, dingy office, Bert Spitz remarks dryly: “You’re doing this because you love your kid. And, in doing so, you’re draining money away from your kid’s education.”

“Marriage Story” is an excellent film, an entertaining and emotionally fulfilling experience. The three elements of the film that make it truly unique are its balance between intense emotion and emotionless manipulation, a loyalty to the core characteristics of Charlie and Nicole, and a refusal to take a side in the unfolding conflict between the separating parties. The acting is superb, with Driver and Johansson giving emotionally charged performances of deep, nuanced characters, with Dern and Liotta conveying the cold, calculating perspective of the legal system in different but proportionally aggressive ways, and with Alda portraying a moderate legal perspective that turns out, sadly, to be nothing but wishful thinking. The vintage camerawork conveys a sentimentality that works in tandem with the melancholy nature of the picture. In addition to Randy Newman’s score, the use of Sondheim’s “Company” is a wonderful choice.

In the final minutes of the film, Nicole sings “You Could Drive A Person Crazy”, from “Company,” with her sister and mother, a number lamenting the protagonist, Bobby, for being unable to commit, for being unable to communicate. She seems happy, almost free, as she performs it. Charlie sings “Being Alive.” During the climax of the song, he is standing in a bar at the microphone, staring blankly forward. “Make me confused, mock me with praise. Let me be used, vary my days.” You can tell he isn’t looking forward, but behind. He seems like he is trying to make sense of it all. You can only hope that he’s able to figure it out.