Do we really need that many rich white people in New York problems movies? A look at ‘Private Life’
All fairytales are different of course; but if there’s one thing that makes them recognizable, it is that they start with a ‘once upon a time’ and end with a ‘they lived happily ever after’. The simplicity of the formula is what makes them so accessible and easy to remember. They are so popular that they become a reference point for people who have never met, who perhaps don’t even live in the same country or the same continent.
While the essence of the stories often remain the same, small differences between versions often make their way in. The French translations of Cinderella, Snow White or Beauty and the Beast allow themselves to be much more explicit in regards to what a happy ending should mean for their main characters. The great majority of stories ends with a ‘Ils vécurent heureux et eurent beaucoup d’enfants’ — ‘they lived happily ever after and had many children’. These two elements sound like they’re a direct consequence from one another, like having children is inevitable in a happy life. In many ways, this mindset is still very much ingrained in most cultures. That’s just the way life goes: you’re born, get an education, meet someone, work, get married, have children, get them ready to repeat the cycle and let them go when the time comes. There have recently been efforts to challenge this ideal life path, more specifically from women who are harmed by the myth of the maternal instinct. Even as things progress, it is still hard for many to comprehend that some people truly don’t need children to be happy.
But what about the other side of this ? What about those that do want children, but just can’t ? Infertility is a scary subject, and that is reflected in its media representation. Whether it is in Alfonso Cuarón’s masterpiece Children of Men or more recently in Hulu’s The Handmaid’s Tale, an inability to conceive is associated with dystopian features. The reality is of course not that dramatic, but it certainly doesn’t help for those that are concerned with their own infertility.
This concern in Tamara Jenkins’ Private Life is represented by its main couple, Rachel (Kathryn Hahn in one of her best performances to date) and Richard (Paul Giamatti). They’re both near fifty and have tried everything to have a child. After a failed IVF that leaves them both devastated, and subtly rejecting adoption by any means necessary, they find yet another solution: asking their step-niece, Sadie (Kayli Carter), a 25 year old quirky college student, to donate some of her eggs to them.
This is the story of three people — but the personalities of two of them remain a mystery for most of the runtime. Rachel is a writer, and from what we can gather, Richard used to work in theater. They’re obviously wealthy enough to live in a New York flat despite not having steady jobs, but they don’t seem particularly famous either. What is really striking is how little they seem to work as a couple. It is pretty clear that they‘ve been together for a very long time, so long that they can’t question their relationship anymore. What they are now doesn’t matter as much as what they want in their future: and that future has to include a child.
Bringing Sadie into their life changes the dynamic they used to have. In the earlier scenes of Private Life, Rachel and Richard don’t do much aside from yelling at each other. Their love transpires in other small ways. How Richard holds Rachel before their first procedure, how he runs after her in the street even as she lashes out at him. But even in these moments, it is clear that their life as a couple has been entirely consumed by their quest for a child. Sadie can’t understand any of that. When she crashes at their place, they leave the fights behind to show the best version of themselves to this strange, kind of annoying young woman that they love very much. We get hints of what this couple was, or what they could be if only there wasn’t a hole in their life they were so desperate to fill. Their affection for Sadie isn’t completely akin to the one a parent would have for their child, but it often gets close. They would be great parents and great people, if only we let them.
This is where one of Private Life’s main problem arises. Nature has certainly not been the kindest to our protagonists, but their environment clearly has. In the film’s opening scene where we follow the couple going through IVF, an unexpected surgery cost of 10,000$ only slows them down for a couple of minutes — a phone call to their stepbrother clears the matter immediately. For many couples, this would have been the end of this journey. For many more, this journey wouldn’t even have started. Rachel and Richard’s wealth isn’t ever talked about, only presented as an obvious fact. Their circle of friends and family are from the same class without a doubt.
Through the entire film, adoption is seen as a subpar choice. Having a child that isn’t biologically connected to either of its parents is seen as a last resort, something that Rachel and Richard would feel okay with only after having explored every other option. Of course, they are influenced by outside discourse when adhering with this set of beliefs. The emphasis on distinctions between biological and adoptive parents when discussing adopting kids is almost as black and white as talking about “real” and “fake” parents. There’s no doubt that the cult around natural conception doesn’t help when it comes to stereotypes surrounding adoption. The thing here is that Richard and Rachel have the bank account to obey these beliefs.
Do we really need to see every problem as experienced by rich white artsy New Yorkers ? Surely, the extremely reduced scope through which we are given to think about the issue drastically reduces its impact to anyone that can’t produce 10,000$ on demand. How about young women who are being abused and tormented because they can’t produce or keep a baby ? How about those that have adopted and have to be reminded that it was a lesser choice than natural conception ? How about people who don’t reference highbrow theatre and literature in casual conversation ? Why are they allowed to be unkind, aggressive and sometimes downright idiotic solely because they are suffering ?
Of course, Private Life does highlight issues that do deserve to be talked about. A particularly essential sequence has the couple tell to a social worker how a young woman lied to them about being pregnant and wanting to be their surrogate mother. We only see her blurry face through video conversations, but that’s enough for the middle-aged couple to fall in love with her completely. They talk every night for hours. Meeting in person becomes obvious. They arrange it. She‘ll never show up.
These few minutes are some of the most affecting of the film, asking us questions we didn’t even know existed. The young woman didn’t ask for financial help at any point during her communications with Richard and Rachel. She just wanted attention, and in doing so proceeded to scam them not of any money, but of emotions. Just looking at their faces as they tell the story tells more than any words could. They gave to someone who only wanted to receive until she didn’t want to anymore.
Despite confronting us with some uneasy subject matter, Private Life is often too focused on its own little world for its own good. That is not to say of course that Rachel and Richard aren’t suffering, but rather that the very high up bubble they and Sadie live in shouldn’t be considered like it even scratches the issue of infertility in Western societies, much less the world. It often makes us forget about its own limitations through naturalistic performances and surprisingly thoughtful cinematography, but we should remember while watching it that it is only a first step in the exploration of a much too taboo subject, not a complete exploration by any means.
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