…or should I say, lack thereof. The Wife is a dramatic 100-minute piece that projects the true conflict of love and demonstrates the power of women, all at the creative hand of director Björn Runge. Who knew that so much of the acting done in this film, mainly by Glenn Close’s performance as Joan Castleman, would be guided by the focus on her eyes?

Each glimpse of her stoic nature as the wife of Joseph Castleman, played by Jonathan Pryce, reveals the chaos that lies behind Joan’s composed features. Each scene is magnetized by emotional reaction shots following Joan as she holds her tongue and takes her role as a wife with strength and grace until she just about reaches her breaking point. This focus on eye contact gives The Wife its energy and will leave you staring intently, heart-in-hand, waiting to see how Close will deliver the next line. This anticipation had the entire screening room clapping or shouting “Yes!” with approval for the womanly strength she exudes.

This husband and wife’s history is complicated. Whose isn’t? But this twisted story of a woman with talent and a man with the gender power to put it to fame propels the screenplay like no other, as the truth unfolds and emotions deepen. As a woman writer, this film struck a personal chord on the wildly accurate struggle of those who aspired to be the next “big thing” in literature within history’s confining standards of being, well, male. What fuels the majority of this storyline are the flashbacks that detailed Joan’s humble beginnings as an Ivy League student of a then-married Professor Castleman. A love affair and many writing sessions later, the two develop a great, youthful love that stands true for the entirety of the film, even in the most hopeless of scenes. With Joan’s incredible writing talent and Joe’s endless mind of ideas, the couple makes a fantastic pair. That is until Joe wins the Nobel Prize in Literature and a rumor swirls that Joan might be the ghostwriter for all of Joe’s repertoire of famous novels.

Based on the novel of the same name by Meg Wolitzer, ‘The Wife’ delves into the frustrating history of women in writing and the many roadblocks that have posed threats to those who pursued a dream to write professionally.

Heartbreaking is the first word I think of when I look back on this incredibly powerful film. Based on the novel of the same name by Meg Wolitzer, The Wife delves into the frustrating history of women in writing and the many roadblocks that have posed threats to those who pursued a dream to write professionally. Through the 50s and 60s, Joan can be seen fighting her way toward the glass ceiling, only to find herself swept under the rug by her husband’s booming success in the literature world. Joan is the wife, the supporter and the entire backbone of Joe’s success with little to no real credit for the king she created amongst men. She’s fed up with being the wife of a literary legend and being defined as merely his “muse.” She’s exhausted, but she is resilient.

It is so important that a power piece should be highlighting yet another industry that has been overshadowed by society’s preferences of male dominance. While the film is set in the 90s, the topic is exceptionally relevant and puts us right in the middle of a whirlwind love story with a fatal flaw. Runge took the cinematic elements to the extreme, juxtaposing the frigid, loneliness of Stockholm’s winter to the fractured marriage of the Castleman’s. His decision of using jarring, wobbly wide shots of the couple’s surroundings and steady, medium shots of the two when interacting in these settings, forced your attention to be grabbed by the main character’s performances at all times. He kept you appropriately involved in the secrets, the drama, and the love.

The Wife will have you laughing just when you thought you’d be crying for the remainder of the film and rooting for the protagonist right up until the last minute.