Early in writer-director Nikole Beckwith’s comedy about surrogacy, Together Together, Matt (a lovably awkward Ed Helms) and Anna (a sullen but sparky Patti Harrison) look at a blank wall with paint swatches as they deliberate on which color is most appropriate for a child’s room. Both stand side by side, as they eliminate paint cards, spending countless hours debating. As if there ever was a better scene to capture the past year’s odd blend of isolation and togetherness, where unique circumstances gave way to strangers becoming more than simply roommates, listed instead as “members of one’s household.”
Together Together doesn’t deal explicitly with the state of social affairs during a pandemic (it was shot in the fall 2019), but the parallels between the film and the past year are undeniably clear. While Beckwith tackles the pitfalls of a surrogate-donor relationship (think Private Life meets Baby Mama), with Anna as surrogate to single dad Matt’s child, the depiction of the arduous labor (no pun intended) involved in being a surrogate, along with the sort of platonic love which can develop between surrogate and donor, make the film a worthwhile watch. Together Together’s rumination on difficult work, new friendships and social bonding captures a pandemic mood, and works as a welcome addition to the niche genre of surrogacy cinema.
Beckwith gracefully zeroes in on the labor of the surrogate Anna through highlighting the difficulty of establishing boundaries with Matt (who micromanages her schedule like an annoying manager) and the time and commitment needed to follow through (Anna is advised to take maternity leave and copes with the simple tasks of walking and leaning as she progresses in her pregnancy). For her services, Anna does receive hefty checks, only to then save the money to help fund her eventual college tuition, a subtle jab at the punishing costs of college and the equally punishing lengths that willing students, especially single women, have to go to pay for their education.
The remarkable depiction of Matt is just as fascinating. Helms’ character is part Andy Bernard, part Jimmy Stewart, an everyman whose inner awkwardness comes out charmingly. When Matt takes Anna to dinner to celebrate the first trimester, he tries to dictate her food choices, and in a clever rebuttal, Anna advises him not to order pasta with bacon because of his age (he’s in his mid 40s, 20 years older than Anna). Helms’ Matt modestly gives Anna credit for her rebuttal, and what could have been a critique of the ignorance of men turns into an instance of a complex exploration of a developing platonic relationship between two lonely people placed in a situation traditionally meant to create a family or, as a pregnancy yoga teacher says later in the film, “a sense of togetherness.”
As Anna’s pregnancy develops, so too does her quirky relationship with Matt. However, Beckwith doesn’t use the surrogate partnership to illustrate a long, drawn out meet cute. Instead, like the dinner exchange, she tempts viewers with a trope only to deconstruct it. Matt isn’t an ignorant, vapid app developer from Silicon Valley, but a lonely man looking to find purpose through raising a child, and Anna isn’t a victim, but an agent whose choices partly serve to critique a less-than-ideal system and culture.
Matt and Anna‘s relationship is not a rom-com construct and instead a fleeting bond with sparks that go as high as holding hands and sleeping side by side. There is no kissing or sex, only moments of watching Friends, therapy appointments, prenatal check-ups and the occasional dinner. Despite confusion and puzzlement from friends and family about where they intend to go with the relationship (Julio Torres’ deadpan barista is a hilarious presence in the cast), Anna and Matt do not give clear indications about the future. Viewers are asked not to wonder if the protagonists are “together together,” but to question what being together really means.
Mo Muzammal is a freelance film critic based in Manhattan/Long Island. His interests include Pakistani Cinema, Parallel Cinema and film theory.
Categories: 2020s, 2021 Film Reviews, Comedy, Featured
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