LOVING-L'AMORE DEVE NASCERE LIBERO

E' un piano sequenza intensamente chiaroscurato orientato sulla destra del grande schermo a ritrarla per prima. Lei, la Mildred di Ruth Negga, in quel silenzio assorto che sarà un leit motiv di Loving. Di lì a poco l'operazione si ripete sulla sinistra, con lui, il Richard di Joel Edgerton. E non è che il primo giro di tutta una serie di primissimi piani con cui la macchina da presa di Jeff Nichols (Take Shelter, Mud, Midnight Special) lavora alacremente e non solo sulle persone. Si direbbe un altro leit motiv di un film dal titolo tanto 'magro', essenziale, quanto avrebbe dovuto essere la legge nei confronti di quel cognome, Loving, il solo per quella coppia di razza mista: bianca lui, di colore lei. Un unico cognome per una coppia inaccettabile nello Stato della Virginia nell'America degli anni Sessanta. Neppure a matrimonio celebrato nello Stato di Washington. E' l'odissea dei coniugi

Loving che Jeff Nichols riacciuffa dalla cronaca vera per riproporla sul grande schermo in un modo inedito, efficace, capace di ritrarre il respiro della sofferenza e del dolore subiti dai Loving per i continui soprusi personali e le ingiustizie legali di quello Stato. Giorno dopo giorno, negli anni.

Sono i primissimi piani ad intrecciare l'ossatura di pensieri e sentimenti il più delle volte incassati in silenzio, appuntati su di loro ma ancor più, spesso e volentieri, su dettagli come ad esempio quello della calcina, quell'impasto grigiastro battuto con navigata professionalità ogni giorno su ciascun mattone in calcestruzzo, protagonista simbolo del duro lavoro quotidiano come muratore, quando non impegnato a riparare auto per rimetterle in corsa. Mattone dopo mattone, passo dopo passo, sguardo dopo sguardo, figlio dopo figlio, spostamento dopo spostamento, condito con qualche trasgressione pagata con l'arresto... Gli anni montano le varie tessere e vanno a costruire una storia che, a

vederla oggi, sembra mostruosamente incredibile ancor prima che assurdamente ingiusta, ai limiti della criminalità elargita proprio dai riconosciuti tutori della legge. Gli anni montano e la storia dei Loving si dipana come la stessa calcina che lega tra loro un mattone dopo l'altro. Come la chiamereste voi un'irruzione notturna in casa privata col preciso proposito di scovare i due coniugi sposati ma non riconosciuti come tali nello loro Stato? Irruzione conclusasi con la carcerazione per giorni di entrambi in separata sede, lei peraltro già incinta del primo figlio. Lui può uscire su cauzione, lei no, deve restare alcuni giorni in attesa del giudice. Come la chiamereste se non 'criminalità indebitamente autorizzata'? Ed è questo solo un primo assaggio del viatico di tallonamento da parte delle forze dell'ordine, ogni volta che la coppia è colta in flagrante, sull'onda di un'indebita rimpatriata a casa dall'esilio forzato, sia pure per la nascita del

figlio, giacché la madre di lui si adopera come levatrice.

Non tutti gli Stati della beneamata America si sono evidentemente evoluti allo stesso modo, come dimostra per l'appunto la storia dei Loving che dalla quotidianità sofferta e braccata, passa con gli anni - molti, troppi! - ad una battaglia legale che approda straordinariamente alla Corte Suprema. E' un evento storico e il caso apre una pista inedita, imprevista e impensabile, date le circostanze. Un evento apripista dunque, destinato a sovvertire convenzioni radicate sull'assurdo. La tenace volontà femminile può fare la differenza. Ne ha fatta sicuramente quella di Mildred Loving, cui le generazioni successive devono moltissimo. Un'eroina del quotidiano che in cuor suo, indubbiamente più del disilluso e rassegnato marito, non ha mai perso la speranza di veder riconosciuti i propri diritti civili. Una sua lettera inviata alla Presidenza Kennedy ha fatto la differenza, innescando un maremoto legale, passato di scrivania

in scrivania, fino ad una rivalsa allora impensabile. E in un'epoca come la nostra, così ammaccata sotto il giogo di mille problematiche, tornano evidentemente di moda, in odore di attualità sempreverde, clamorose storie ispirate alla cronaca costellata di battaglie per i diritti civili interraziali. Lo dimostrano storie raccontate sul grande schermo, peraltro a breve distanza tra loro, come Il diritto di contare di Theodore Melfi e il Loving di Jeff Nichols, per il quale non possiamo che associarci al plauso collettivo per l'eccellenza interpretativa della coppia Negga-Edgerton, non a caso inondata da una vera e propria pioggia di Nominations.

Powerful, understated performances from Joel Edgerton and Ruth Negga carry director Jeff Nichols' oh-so-sensitive portrait of a mixed-race marriage forbidden in 1958 Virginia.

¡°The Crime of Being Married.¡± So read the headline that accompanied photos of Richard Loving, a Southern ¡°white trash¡± construction worker, and his African-American wife Mildred in the pages of Life magazine. One day ¡ª maybe today ¡ª audiences will sit down to watch Jeff Nichols¡¯ nobly hatred-proof period romance, ¡°Loving,¡± which goes nearly the entire first reel before explaining that mixed-race marriages were illegal in the then-segregated Virginia of 1958, and they¡¯ll be surprised to learn what the crime in question was, having already observed and accepted the on-screen couple without the blinders of racial prejudice.

It is from this position of relative enlightenment that Nichols approaches the true story of ¡°the Loving couple,¡± a film of utmost sensitivity, but not nearly enough outrage, secure in

its position vis-¨¤-vis the bigotry that dominated before America¡¯s Civil Rights revolution. Like the plaintiffs in the Supreme Court case that identified marriage as an inherent human right, ¡°Loving¡± is a humble, soft-spoken film, in which no one so much as raises his voice or weeps in the face of undeniable injustice. Though it will inevitably factor heavily in year-end Oscar conversations, Nichols¡¯ film is seemingly less interested in its own glory than in representing what¡¯s right, and though it features two of the best American performances of the past several years, from Joel Edgerton and Ruth Negga (neither of whom are American, hailing from Australia and Ethiopia, respectively), its emotional impact derives precisely from how understated they are.

Premiering in Cannes a mere three months after Nichols¡¯ ¡°Midnight Special¡± screened in competition at the Berlin Film Festival, ¡°Loving¡± shares more than just Edgerton and the director¡¯s career-long leading man, Michael

Shannon (here relegated to a small supporting role as Life photographer Grey Villet), in common with the retro-styled genre movie. In a sense, both play on the notion that humans fear what they don¡¯t understand ¡ª and how otherwise innocent people can be forced into a position of living outside the law when society has not yet wrapped its head around their differences. While far from the suspenseful genre-movie tone of ¡°Midnight Special,¡± ¡°Loving¡± finds Edgerton¡¯s character living in a state of perpetual fear, fear that he and his wife Mildred could be arrested at any time ¡ª or worse, though the film never actually dramatizes the very-real threat of hate-crime violence.

In the half-dozen years since his breakthrough performance in Ozzie crime-family opus ¡°Animal Kingdom,¡± Edgerton has demonstrated nothing short of full actorly commitment to a series of demanding roles. Until now, what he has never seemed capable of doing

is fully relaxing into the skin of another character, and yet, under Nichols¡¯ direction, he disappears into the role of Richard Loving. Behind the tobacco-stained false teeth, the ¡°Sling Blade¡±-like underbite, the furrowed brow and close-cropped straw hair lives and breathes a simple man whose inner happiness derives from having found his soul mate. Maybe he should have know better, as his mother implies, than to marry a ¡°colored¡± woman, but there¡¯s no sign that her race plays any part in or obstacle to Richard¡¯s connection to Mildred, whom Negga embodies with a quiet dignity and deep inner strength. (The fact that Mildred is herself part-white raises other unspoken questions about the legitimacy of an anti-miscegenation law.)

Without ever having to ¡°prove¡± it, these two are clearly very much in love. That alone would make a fine movie, as so many have (¡°Away We Go¡± and ¡°Infinitely Polar Bear¡± come to

mind as two solid recent examples, in which almost no mention is made of the fact that its central couples hail from different races). But ¡°Loving¡± isn¡¯t about loving at all. It¡¯s about the fact that certain kinds of loving were deemed illegal in America¡¯s relatively recent past, and it¡¯s about the way that a handful of eager civil-rights lawyers took their case to the highest court in the land, paving the way for arguments still being waged today ¡ª as in the recent overhaul of the Defense of Marriage Act and country-wide legalization of same-sex unions.

Tapping into the same sensitivity Heath Ledger (another Ozzie) brought to ¡°Brokeback Mountain,¡± Edgerton¡¯s performance captures a side of American masculinity seldom shown on-screen ¡ª namely, a certain personal conviction divorced of words that falls silent in the face of conflict and can appear calloused to those who don¡¯t know how to read the

body language. Edgerton invites us into that intimate space. In his modesty, Richard may never meet another character¡¯s gaze, and yet Nichols and d.p. Adam Stone (who has shot every one of the director¡¯s five features) find a way to peer into the character¡¯s eyes ¡ª and into his soul.

In June 1958, after proposing to Mildred on the acre of rural Virginia country where he plans to build their house, Richard drives his bride-to-be to Washington, D.C., where they elope. But trouble awaits back home, and someone talks to the authorities (true to the film¡¯s policy of telling this story without clear villains, we never learn who the traitor was). Late one night, the local sheriff (Martin Csokas) and his men turn up, knock down the bedroom door and drag the couple to jail ¡ª an indignity carried out with any nefarious sneering, but depicted as just part of the

job. The Lovings were clearly in violation of Virginia law at the time, and despite their prejudices, both sheriff Brooks and judge Bazile (David Jensen) held attitudes consistent with their communities.

Richard hires a lawyer (Bill Camp, oozing flop sweat), but has no choice but to accept the penalty: leave Virginia and don¡¯t come back with Mildred for 25 years, or face one year¡¯s prison time. Behind their doleful Basset Hound expressions, Richard and Mildred both look sad, but never come out and say as much. Nor do they seem especially angry. At one point, Mildred¡¯s sister (Terri Abney) accuses Richard of causing unnecessary grief to their family, but by and large, this patiently paced, mild-mannered movie unfolds within an extremely narrow emotional range. Nichols even steers clear of the inevitable tensions the Lovings¡¯ situation must have caused within their marriage: They never argue, and even a near-death experience barely seems

to upset them.

It¡¯s as if the Lovings consider themselves too small in the grand scheme of things to fight the system, and it¡¯s only after ACLU lawyer Bernie Cohen (comedian Nick Kroll, playing the inexperienced character¡¯s insecurity, rather than his sincerity) calls that they agree to go to court, posing for newsreel interviews and Villet¡¯s camera. ¡°Loving¡± is so committed to this spirit of low-key respectability ¡ª subtly reinforced by David Wingo¡¯s understated string score ¡ª that it very nearly skips over the Supreme Court trial, featuring just a few remarks by Cohen and fellow counsel Phil Hirschkop (Jon Bass, as superficial as Kroll) before delivering the verdict by telephone. Mildred answers slowly, as if calls were somehow commonplace in the old farmhouse where Richard has only just installed a phone, and she barely reacts to the news. Such humility may be devastating, but it ain¡¯t dramatic, and though we¡¯ve

been waiting for this moment the entire movie, the scene underscores ¡°Loving¡¯s¡± single greatest weakness: It¡¯s too damn polite. Had the same story been told by parties who¡¯d suffered through the same oppression, one doubts they could have played it so cool ¡ª nor would they have been quite so convinced the problem ended in 1967.