On Loving—Revisiting The Bridges of Madison County

The Bridges of Madison County (1992) is a best-selling novel written by Robert James Waller telling the love story between a married woman and a National Geographic photographer who visited Madison County in Iowa for a photographic essay on the bridges in the area. It is a fictional story but, as Waller said in the interview, contains “strong similarities between the main character and himself.” Entertainment Weekly described it as "a short, poignant story, moving precisely because it has the ragged edges of reality".

In 1995, Waller's novel was translated into a film bearing the same title with the plot as describe below:

In the present, siblings Michael and Carolyn arrive at the Iowa farmhouse of Francesca Johnson, their recently-deceased mother, to see about the settlement of their mother's estate. As they go through the contents of her safe deposit box and the will, they are baffled to discover that their mother left very specific instructions that her body be cremated and her ashes thrown off the nearby Roseman Covered Bridge, which is not in accordance with the burial arrangements they had known from their parents. Michael initially refuses to comply, while Carolyn discovers a set of photos of her mother and a letter. She manages to convince Michael to set aside his initial reaction so they can read the documents she has discovered. Once alone, they go through a series of letters from a man named Robert Kincaid addressed to their mother, revealing that he had an affair with her in 1965. The siblings find their way to a chest where their mother left a letter, a series of diaries and other mementos.

They discover their mother, an Italian war bride, had had a four-day affair with Robert Kincaid, a photographer who has come to Madison County, Iowa to shoot a photographic essay for National Geographic on the covered bridges in the area. The affair took place while her husband and children were away at the Illinois State Fair. The story in the diaries also reveals the impact the affair had on Francesca and Robert’s lives, since they almost elope, but she stops at the last minute in consideration of a bigger picture that includes the consequences on the lives of her children and husband, while he finds meaning and his true calling as an artist. The story also has deep consequences on the lives of Michael and Carolyn, both of whom are facing marital issues, but their mother’s story helps them to find a sense of direction in their lives. At the end the Johnson siblings agree to their mother’s request.

Janet Maslin, a film and literary critic for The New York Times, in her review of the said movie titled “Love Comes Driving Up the Road, and in Middle Age, Too”, wrote: 

By rights, a film version ought to have the same effect. But Clint Eastwood, director and alchemist, has transformed "The Bridges of Madison County" into something bearable -- no, something even better. Limited by the vapidity of this material while he trims its excesses with the requisite machete, Mr. Eastwood locates a moving, elegiac love story at the heart of Mr. Waller's self-congratulatory overkill. The movie has leanness and surprising decency, and Meryl Streep has her best role in years.

Looking sturdy and voluptuous in her plain housedress (the year is 1965), Ms. Streep rises straight out of "Christina's World" to embody all the loneliness and fierce yearning Andrew Wyeth captured on canvas. And yet, despite the Iowa setting and the emphasis on down-home Americana, Mr. Eastwood's "Bridges of Madison County" has a European flavor. Its pace is unhurried, which is not the same as slow. It respects long silences and pays attention to small details. It sustains an austere tone and staves off weepiness until the last reel. It voices musings that would definitely sound better in French.

She went on:

And it listens seriously to this story's two main characters when they speak, even if they happen to be speaking in soggy Wallerese and delivering the occasional wild howler. Admittedly, it takes some adjustment to watch Mr. Eastwood adopt his "Make my day" squint and declare: "I don't want to need you if I can't have you" or "This kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime."

Those who admire this actor for his steely machismo should know that he picks flowers, quotes Yeats, wears a bracelet and says things like: "You know, I scribbled some thin' down the other day. I often do that when I'm on the road, and it kinda goes like this . . ."

That's the sound of Robert Kincaid: sensitive artist, itinerant photographer, citizen of the world, poet and a half. He's the kind of fellow who likes to notice -- and talk about -- the soil's loamy smell. But on screen, despite all that, the flinty Mr. Eastwood makes him mercifully laconic and at times even charming. When it comes to making anyone's day, Mr. Eastwood accomplishes that by turning this story's hero into someone the audience can stand.

"The Bridges of Madison County" is savvy enough to recognize what it's up against and tackle that resistance head-on. Without opening fanfare the film simply starts, framed by the reading of the farm wife's will to her two children, who have failed to notice some rather life-altering things about Mom. Though this prologue is clumsily acted, it accomplishes what it must, hooking the audience before Francesca (Ms. Streep) even appears. Jeannine Oppewall's wonderfully evocative production design summons up the blunt, homey Francesca before the character herself is even seen.

But more telling yet disturbing is the brief review on the novel:

In this story, Francesca is in the traditional role of a mother and homemaker. She is faithfully married to her husband, Richard Johnson and has a simple, yet seemingly mundane life. The photographer, Robert Kincaid brings the passion, newness and even foreignness that Francesca’s life, and possibly many of the readers of this book, is missing. With Robert, she seems to find a new life, a sexual and emotional rebirth. This may have appealed to many of the readers who are convinced that such passion and intense feeling isn’t going to happen to them. If Francesca can have this rebirth, then perhaps so can the reader. In a world full of divorce and scandalous affairs that are broadcast over TV talk shows and newspaper, this love affair doesn’t quite fit into the same scheme. Instead of berating Francesca for cheating on Richard, the reader finds herself enthralled in what Francesca has found.

The critic went on saying: 

If the book had taken a different turn, however, and Francesca had run off with Robert, the books readers may not have loved it as much. Although everyone loved what Francesca had found, the readers still didn’t want Francesca’s family to suffer like so many families were suffering because of infidelity in the 1990’s. The fact that Francesca refuses to leave her family leaves the reader with a sense of conflict...half of the reader wants to her to keep that passion, and half wants her to “do the right thing.” This book is a master at turning sense of propriety upside down. Waller’s writing at this important juncture of the book is masterful as well.

For the critic,  the most eloquent passage that captured the imagination of the readers, especially the women, was:

As much as I want you and want to be with you and part of you, I can’t tear myself away from the realness of my responsibilities. If you force me, physically or mentally, to go with you, as I said earlier, I cannot fight that. I don’t have the strength, given my feelings for you. In spite of what I said about not taking the road away from you, I’d go because of my own selfish wanting of you. But please don’t make me. Don’t make me give this up, my responsibilities. I cannot do that and live with the thought of it. If I leave now, those thoughts would turn me into something other than the woman you have come to love.

Such a drama unveiled what most of us dearly wanted to experience and at the same time, anxious to uproot ourselves from any situation that placed Francesca and Robert together. Robert said to Francesca:

I have one thing to say, one thing only; I’ll never say it another time, to anyone, and I ask you to remember it: in a universe of ambiguity, this kind of certainty come only once, and never again, no matter how many lifetimes you live.

I wrote this with a feeling of being drawn to human love--the mystery of human loving, echoing St. Augustine's definition of happiness as "to be loved and to love, to be understood and to understand." For non-believers, the formula must start with "to love and be loved" "to understand and be understood" but St. Augustine started his reflection with God who initiated the loving and believers responded to His love. We need to be loved for us to live a happy and fulfilling life.

(to be continued...)