Love Story

“Really, it doesn’t hurt.” It is remarkable and, given the subsiding unrest of the 1960s, understandable how American viewers showed enormous interest in conservative melodrama in 1970. Love Story represents a very cautious return to certainties. The pairing of perfect opposites points to the possibility of overcoming class differences and the subsequent restoration of equilibrium. In the 1970s, the already somewhat archaic class difference served the filmmakers as a surrogate for the more pressing social conflicts of the time – between various ethnic groups and between supporters of different political ideologies. Furthermore, a beautiful poor girl can be more easily passed off as a flawless ideal. As a fragile creature, Jenny lends herself to being protected, to benefitting from a feeling of financial and other forms of stability, which Oliver can offer her. In return, she gets him away from “animalistic” entertainment (hockey is shown as a rather aggressive sport) and more among people. By creating a harmonious family environment that he cannot find at home, she provides Oliver with the conditions he needs for undisturbed study. Jenny abandons self-improvement (after all, she’s already perfect) and gives priority to her vision of family life over her career. In her case, emotions triumph over ambition, which Oliver still hasn’t confronted. As in every Oedipal drama, here the problematic character is the father, who, as an old pragmatist, forces his son to prioritise a better social standing over a love that offers no gain. Despite the anticipated twist in the final third, Love Story is an admirably painless film, soft, gentle and fragrant like freshly laundered clothes from a television commercial. Without any truly bad characters or negative emotions, it is a symptom of the desire for something pure and unspoiled, for an impossible return to an earlier time (the film also addresses this irreversibility). The real tragedy of Hiller’s Love Story consists not in the film itself, since it lacks any depth, but in what it represents. 60% (09/11/2012)

The movie that formed the genre rules as we know them today. Due to its phenomenal success, Love Story opened the flood gates for romantic tear-jerkers. And in the tsunami of copycats over the years, some pictures emerged that offered the same but in a better wrapper. But this is a sensitively filmed movie, well-acted and without emotional blackmail. But there are three problems that make this movie a run-of-the-mill affair. The absence of memorable moments, the fact that the whole story is summed up in the first five sentences of the movie, and there is no chemistry between the central couple. Or rather, at the beginning there is some chemistry, but, after the great intro, this very quickly disappears. And it never comes back. Paradoxically, only the rather hackneyed sub-story about the stormy father and son relationship catches the imagination. But still, Love Story is unforgettable. Why? Due to the music by Francis Lai. But no. That isn’t completely true. The music in itself is pretty average. But the ingenious thing about it is one of the best ever main musical themes of all time. When it eventually shifts from the melancholic tones played on the piano and the orchestra gets going, it chills you to the marrow. And what is happening on the screen at that moment is completely irrelevant. (06/03/2008)

From the first shot and from the first sentence, it's clear what this film will be about - and it's a bit to its detriment because when you then watch a likable believable couple, which Ali MacGraw and Ryan O'Neal definitely are, you don't really enjoy it. Constantly - albeit subconsciously - you wait for things to happen. And when they do... Well, it's impressive, but it's not the shock I'd need for Love Story to impress me even more. (24/02/2019)