The Killing of Two Lovers veers closer to security-cam observation than dramatic film. The first thing you’ll notice is the length of the shots, like a mix of Michael Haneke and No Country for Old Men: not just scenes, but the time in-between cuts. At first it feels intentional, but it soon becomes clear that The Killing of Two Lovers is far too disorganized to grasp the purpose of this technique.
A story of an insecure man’s attempt to win back his wife and four children, the drama practically writes itself. In a brilliantly performed scene, David (Clayne Crawford) and his ex-wife Nikki (Sepideh Moafi) get ready for a scheduled date night, when Nikki says that she’s worried about their daughter Jess. David says they can stay close to home, but Nikki asks him to park behind the house and wait.
It’s excruciating to watch, not because the content is especially visceral, but because director Robert Machoian refuses to cut. Every long pause and inappropriate sigh plays out in real time. If you’ve ever been in a tense conversation, you’ll know the feeling this creates: it’s like watching someone you just met break down in a bathroom stall.
This scene is worth singling out because it seems to display an intention: a couple having a dramatic conversation is one thing, but we then see their kids answering the door to a stranger, who turns out to be a man Nikki is seeing. We see this from David and Nikki’s perspective — too far away to make out faces — and only from this perspective. Why? Why present a tension-relaxing scene from such a distance, and in the same drawn-out style as the conversation taking place in the car? If there was a reason, it’s not apparent. With no obvious connection to character or theme, the uncut style puts an undue emphasis on narrative. That can’t be what the filmmakers intended, because the story of The Killing of Two Lovers isn’t worth this kind of undivided attention.
The best thing David has going for him is that he doesn’t murder his wife and her lover at the start of the film. He hears one of his kids using the bathroom next door, lowers his gun, and leaves. Here are our first proper themes: violence and family. David is an outsider in his family, whose lives press on as his revolves around them. He’s not a completely unlikable protagonist, but he’s not exceptional, either. His goal is his estranged family, which puts him in the morally gray position of winning their affection while maintaining an agreed-upon distance. What does he do in his free time? Shoot guns and live with his dad: not the most endearing hobbies.
When David is officially introduced to Nikki’s lover, Derek (Chris Coy), it’s another nail in the coffin for his chances at getting her back. He seems to make Nikki happy, but more importantly, he’s around. We see Derek pop up throughout the film, and it’s hard to get a read on him: he is comically introduced as the awkward new lover, a trope that will probably make viewers think he is disposable. Yet he keeps showing up, and although the kids are distant to him, they’re not exactly pals with David, either. The stage is set for a finalizing, end-of-the-road moment for Nikki and David, an adult end to a story of two incompatible people. Then the plot decides that they deserve another chance.
A surprisingly violent moment cauterizes the divide between David and Nikki, and their story wraps up extremely quickly. Remember, the film begins with David attempting to murder Nikki and Derek in their sleep: this is a man who needs to prove his worth, but he never actually has to change. The violence acts like a get-out-of-jail-free card, with consequences that neatly solve all of David’s problems. After going along with this film’s slow pace for 80 minutes, I couldn’t shake the feeling of whiplash.
There are strengths to be found here: the patience the pace demands is something I’d love to see more of in independent film, but when style and content don’t work together, film is reduced to a series of techniques. This lack of communication alone doesn’t ruin The Killing of Two Lovers, but it is a profoundly unsatisfying film because of it.
