Maybe written hooks in grade school essays are so over, but it’s time to bring back films with memorable, character-driven opening scenes—even those as short as that of GG Hawkins’ slightly sardonically titled I Really Love My Husband, a line uttered in these beginning moments. Like a fish caught on a line, we’re immediately towed into the film’s cheeky tone and the driving mental preoccupation of our main character, Teresa (Madison Lanesey). Here, she calls her ex on her wedding day, all decked out in her white dress, to declare that she’s moved on and is devoted to her messy-haired brand-new hubby, Drew (Travis Quentin Young). US writer-director Hawkins, perhaps best known for her work as the cohost of the No Film School podcast, makes her feature debut with US-Panama coproduction I Really Love My Husband, which just enjoyed its world premiere in the Narrative Spotlight strand of South by Southwest (SXSW) in Austin, Texas, USA.
As we enter this unconscious uncoupling, we come along to Panama for the semi-newlyweds’ honeymoon one year after that fateful day of marriage in a story credited to Hawkins, Lanesey, and Scott Monahan. Despite the warning signs, we’re quickly empathetic to the plight of Teresa, who finds fault with every little “beige flag” in people-pleasing, do-gooder Drew’s wholesome behaviour. The wide-eyed Lanesey and her crooked eyebrow full of expression is perfectly suited for the millennial character’s quirkiness (“She’s just being goofy”, one might try to say in her defence), which oscillates between euphoric and deeply unfulfilled by her marriage. We are also drawn to Teresa’s side through sporadic shots through the lens of her smartphone camera as she relatably looks to post her perfect tropical honeymoon on social media despite feeling unhappy.
Beach scenes between the two immediately stage the duo as severely disconnected: Drew tosses rocks in the water in the distance as Teresa sunbathes in the foreground, and the latter even unconsciously tries to distance him even further. In walks shorthaired US expat Paz (nonbinary model Arta Gee, whose defined facial features could cut through metal), the hyper-chill, observant caretaker of the couple’s beach house, claiming to live just “up the beach”. So when Teresa proposes to Drew to “seduce Paz” together in order to explore their desires as a couple, the camera closes in on them, dollying in as if to force the man into a decision. But Teresa, the dissatisfied hedonist, is clearly just attracted to Paz and wants to hook up with someone new.
They are the listener that Teresa isn’t—but they also see through Drew’s droll, repetitive stories (such as having met Teresa on Craigslist as he was selling his grandmother’s lamp), becoming the missing piece that each partner craves. Hawkins creatively frames the odd character out in this ever-rotating love triangle through the shoulders of the other two, almost as if the third wheel is required to defend themselves. However, one crucial line tips us off to a subtle shift toward Drew’s perspective when he mentions offhandedly to Paz as the two watch Teresa on the beach, “I love that woman”. It’s so similar to that titular line from Teresa, and yet, it’s so different. That difference is key.
As part of the film’s appeal, the project seeks to emphasise its active effort in uplifting the voices of women and LGBTQ+ individuals, including highlighting that two of the four lead actors are nonbinary, while three are LGBTQ+; on the behind-the-camera side, 70% of crew and department heads are women, while 24% identify LGBTQ+. For a debut, Hawkins is confident in her tone, tossing in catchy dialogue-based running gags such as Teresa’s repeated declaration that she’s fasting (but will have multiple piña coladas and jumps at the chance to dine with Paz) and Paz’s cool statement that they operate at the “speed of nature” (a hilariously empty statement).
The film partly loses its steam halfway through once a particular sexual encounter-slash-hookup occurs, but what follows is also unexpected. The most interesting parts of I Really Love My Husband are thus the dynamics that emerge between Teresa and Drew, less so the actual sexual exploration that viewers might expect from the story’s setup. Kiki (Lisa Jacqueline Starrett), Paz’s not-so-partner (the two just “enjoy each other’s company”, Paz coos), further complicates the narrative by revealing truths behind the caretaker’s seemingly charming behaviour. Everyone wants to fuck, but nobody knows how to communicate—or we communicate in a deceptive way out of selfishness and ignorance.
While Paz represents the dissatisfactions of Teresa, Hawkins doesn’t simply deliver a so-called conventional threesome dramedy featuring the alluring outsider that reveals the crack the happy heterosexually coded central relationship. DoP Ryan Thomas’ increasingly shaky, roving handheld lensing illustrates the growing instability between the pair, juxtaposed with ironically playful and bubbly music by Hollie Buhagiar, the former serving as the internal state and the latter as the couple’s emotional façade. Where the filmmaker succeeds is by shifting the perspective toward Drew’s point of view as he develops his own connection with Paz, forcing us to reconsider where our sympathies lie—and how we’ve been led, or even manipulated, into believing that the loudest voice wins. Watching the film a second time could even reveal an entirely new experience where viewers can look for the embedded hints that we don’t see the first time around.
