The Unseen Chains: When Faith and Fear Collide in 'Think Good'
There’s something profoundly unsettling about watching a relationship unravel when it’s cloaked in the veneer of devotion—both to a partner and to a faith. Géraldine Nakache’s Think Good isn’t just another film about toxic relationships; it’s a masterclass in how subtle manipulation and religious dogma can intertwine to create a suffocating cage. Personally, I think what makes this film particularly fascinating is how it uses the specifics of Orthodox Judaism not as a backdrop, but as a character in its own right. It’s not just about an abusive husband; it’s about how cultural and religious expectations can sometimes enable—or even mask—that abuse.
The Seduction of Control
One thing that immediately stands out is the film’s portrayal of Jacques’ love-bombing in Dubai. It’s a classic tactic, but what many people don’t realize is how often it’s mistaken for grand romance. From my perspective, this isn’t just about a man sweeping a woman off her feet; it’s about the calculated way he isolates her from her own instincts. When Gil considers an abortion, Jacques doesn’t just persuade her—he manipulates her faith, turning a deeply personal decision into a religious obligation. This raises a deeper question: How often do we confuse control for care, especially when it’s wrapped in the language of tradition or love?
The Visual Language of Entrapment
What makes Think Good visually striking is its use of space. The Scope shots and intimate close-ups don’t just show us Gil’s isolation—they make us feel it. The modern house in the countryside, with its wood and glass, is a perfect metaphor for her predicament. It looks open, but it’s a prison. A detail that I find especially interesting is Jacques’ obsession with baby monitors, which he installs everywhere. It’s not just about monitoring the baby; it’s about monitoring Gil. This isn’t just paranoia—it’s a way to assert dominance, to remind her that she’s always being watched. If you take a step back and think about it, this is a chilling commentary on how technology can become a tool of oppression in the wrong hands.
Faith as a Double-Edged Sword
What this film really suggests is that faith can be both a source of comfort and a weapon. Jacques’ rigid adherence to religious rules isn’t just about piety; it’s about control. He uses his interpretation of Judaism to dictate Gil’s behavior, from her career to her relationships with friends and family. But here’s where it gets interesting: the film doesn’t demonize the religion itself. The sympathetic rabbi in Dubai offers Gil a different perspective, one that emphasizes compassion over rigidity. In my opinion, this is a crucial point—faith can either liberate or enslave, depending on who’s interpreting it.
The Psychology of Isolation
One of the most gut-wrenching scenes takes place in the hospital after Gil gives birth. Jacques blocks her family and friends from seeing her, claiming she needs rest. What many people don’t realize is how this kind of isolation is a hallmark of abusive relationships. It’s not just about physical control; it’s about cutting off emotional support. Gil’s mother’s advice, “If you think good, good things will come,” feels almost tragically naive in this context. It’s a reminder of how societal expectations—even well-meaning ones—can sometimes trap us in harmful situations.
The Broader Implications
If you ask me, Think Good isn’t just a story about one couple; it’s a reflection of broader societal issues. How often do we turn a blind eye to abuse when it’s cloaked in respectability? How often do we mistake toxic behavior for tradition? The film forces us to confront these questions, and it does so without offering easy answers. What this really suggests is that the lines between love, faith, and control are often blurrier than we’d like to admit.
Final Thoughts
As someone who’s always been drawn to films that challenge our assumptions, Think Good feels like a necessary addition to the canon of relationship dramas. It’s not just about the tension between Gil and Jacques; it’s about the tension between individual freedom and societal expectations. Personally, I think the film’s greatest strength is its ability to make us uncomfortable—not just with its characters, but with ourselves. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most dangerous chains are the ones we don’t even realize we’re wearing.
