Better In Your Head?--THE PRICE OF SALT/CAROL

 

Spoiler Alert: no matter how good you push it, someone else will push it better.

THE BOOK-Written by Patricia Highsmith, released in 1952 (under the pseudonym "Claire Morgan")

THE MOVIE (as "Carol")-Directed by Todd Haynes, written by Phyllis Nagy, released 2015

THE STORY-Therese is 19. She sells toys and designs stage sets. She is in love with Carol Aird, an elegant aspiring divorcèe. The ladies travel cross-country, the best method of determining the legitimacy of a romantic connection. As usual, men and children threaten to screw it all up.

MIND THE GAP-For her second novel, Patricia Highsmith dipped into the fruit basket of her own life and snatched an apple, the traditional edible symbol of immoral love. A lesbian romance in a repressive era not only meant potential social condemnation, it carried the threat of career suicide for a promising author (as Highsmith's own agent did not hesitate to inform her). Considering that the first edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, published the year before, declared homosexuality a "sociopathic personality disease," Highsmith's decision to use a pseudonym was wise. (The first pressing featuring her real name appeared in 1984.)

Beyond coming very close to the pictures in my head, Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara each deliver faultless performances. Blanchett, especially, is pure golden age enchantress. Every time she speaks, I feel like I've dipped a Twix bar in brandy. 

Therese and Carol are not ideologies given faces. Therese's feelings transcend mere schoolgirl crush, and Carol isn't weathering a mid-life meltdown. (30 was "midlife" in the 1950s, right?) They are emeralds in the manure, and they deserve happiness. They do not deserve iniquitous investigators harshing their shared mellow, nor do they deserve lifetimes spent humoring men named "Harge." These women are both damaged, and thus cause damage, and thus receive damage, and 'round again. Sprinkle the spice, pay the price. For the privilege of love--a good-maybe-great thing at its very best--there's no cost too high.

"Age gap" ain't nothin' but a statistic.

The lady lovers meet the acquaintance of Mrs. French, an older woman with "a Maryland accent." Given the only MD accents are Baltimore, Dundalk, and Appalachian, I was disappointed the author didn't drop any indicative words or phrases. No "I'm going downey ocean, hon," no "I always warsh my hair before bed," no "Y'all like crabs?" C'mon, Pat.

Aw ish, Carrie Brownstein cameo! (The Therese to Corin Tucker's Carol, of course I'm right.)

Although the actresses earned Oscar nods, the movie itself missed out on top prize despite overwhelmingly positive reviews. But when you've bestowed upon the world magnificent red-and-gold-streaked femme-on-femme action, you don't need man-made accolades for validation.

In a courageous display of emotional honesty, Carol chooses her young lover over her young child. Why not; men do it all the time.

BETTER IN YOUR HEAD-The Price of Salt is a great love story, and a banger road trip, a near-masterpiece of recollection and recreation ("near" since Highsmith is still resisting her editor's best efforts at tightening up proceedings with the same obnoxious obstinance my stomach resists my attempts to flatten it).

The best adaptation is a zestful addendum. Compromises (and there are always compromises) may not accentuate the story, but they should not incapacitate the story. In Carol, Therese isn't pockmarked by her obsession, Carol is more sugar cookie than macaron, and Trapper Jenn is forgiving. Director Haynes utilizes space well, and silence even better, giving a crackling incandescence to the emotional distance between common tales and the ways they are told and re-told.

Gladly, I'll pay.