“Make new friends but keep the old, one is silver and the other’s gold.”

That lyric came to mind as I watched ART, the hit Broadway revival now playing at the Music Box Theatre. The show, starring Bobby Cannavale, James Corden, and Neil Patrick Harris, layers a conversation about art and taste into a deeper meditation on what it means to sustain friendship over time — to keep the “gold” even as life offers us plenty of “silver.”
Set in Paris, Serge (Harris) is over the moon about a new piece of art he’s just purchased and can’t wait to show it off to his longtime friend Marc (Cannavale). Marc’s reaction is tepid at best — and when he learns the staggering price Serge paid for what appears to be a minimalist white canvas, he’s downright offended. He confides in their mutual friend Yvan (Corden), and from there, a witty, poignant debate unfolds about taste, loyalty, and the strain of changing perspectives within lifelong friendships.

We all have those friends who’ve known us forever — the ones who remember our childhood pets, our parents, our first heartbreaks, and our most embarrassing moments (like maybe spraying fart spray in the high school hallway just to see what would happen). As we grow and our lives diverge, those relationships can be tested. ART captures that tension with humor and heart: What do we do when a friend’s choices seem shallow, foolish, or foreign? Can affection outlast judgment? Can shared history withstand wounded pride?

I still remember my high school chemistry teacher — a man with wild, Einstein-esque hair who looked like his last experiment had gone awry — telling our class that the most important thing to remember wasn’t chemistry, but friendship. He reminded us that these early relationships, though sometimes distant later in life, are embedded in who we are. Like gold, they don’t tarnish easily.

Corden steals the show as Yvan — the most humble of the trio and the least “successful” by conventional standards — yet he’s also the most soulful. His frantic monologue about an upcoming wedding invitation is one of my all-time favorite moments in theater. It’s a reminder that friendship, like art, isn’t about perfection or prestige. It’s about recognition — seeing and being seen — and remembering the gold that endures even as we collect new silver along the way.

Psychological takeaway:
Friendship is one of our most powerful emotional regulators. It anchors us in identity, softens anxiety, and reflects our capacity for differentiation — the ability to stay connected without losing ourselves when disagreements arise. ART reminds us that the tension between closeness and individuality isn’t a flaw in friendship; it’s the heart of it.

Planned check-ins:

Whether it’s daily, weekly, or annually – and ideally all three in some capacity – couples who are in it for the long and happy haul make a habit of checking in as needed and also as planned. Planned check ins are times when both are mentally prepared to provide each other and the issues the space they need to explore, resolve, and plan. One couple I know even has an annual “State of the Union Conference” where they rent a hotel room and have a “conference” at the hotel bar to check in and make plans for the coming year.

Mindful approach to meeting milestones:

I would not say that couples in it for the long haul don’t rush to make big decisions such as moving in together, getting married, and having a child. “Rushing” is a relative concept. One person’s “rushing” can be another person’s “taking too long.” A compatible and connected couple can follow whatever timeline makes sense to them, and they are mindful in their processing. One couple may make a mindful decision to get married after a year of dating, whereas another couple may make a mindful decision to wait. Couples in it for the long haul keep their anxieties in check and make important decisions about their relationship from a place of joy and rationality, rather than insecurity and desperation.

Elisabeth also shared an insight about lasting relationshs —

Emotional Maturity:

Couples in satisfying, lasting marriages tend to be emotionally mature. They are able to balance separateness and togetherness. They can enjoy feeling close to each other but are also able to feel satisfied and fulfilled in the separate dimensions of their lives. Because these marriages are more emotionally mature, they tend to be less volatile and less reactive. Instead of volatility, partners in fulfilling marriages that go the distance demonstrate a willingness to own their role in a disagreement and they do not jockey to be right and win each and every argument. Because they are more emotionally mature and able to enjoy being intimate and being separate, they tend to communicate in a mature style that leads to less drama and greater connection. They are less likely to blame and are willing to focus on how they can improve an adverse situation. As a couples therapist, it is incredibly satisfying to help couples work to become more emotionally mature in order to deepen their connection and improve their marriage.

Couples tend to connect and fall in love with someone who is at a compatible level of emotionally maturity. Ideally, then, through the arc of an adult life, they grow and mature together. If emotional maturity level is a conscious and unconscious bonding mechanism, it makes perfect sense that many romantic relationships with significant age differences work quite well. In fact, one perspective about relationships like this that fail is that the younger person keeps maturing and eventually outgrows their older partner who may be developmentally stuck at a level far beneath their numerical age.

Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool is both a star-struck love story and a compelling essay in emotional maturity. Based on actor Peter Turner’s memoir about his legendary love affair with Academy Award winning actress Gloria Grahame, the film tells two stories at once. The first is Turner’s reflections of Grahame’s debilitating battle with cancer and her desire to fight the disease in Liverpool with Turner’s family in his parents’ home. Turner and Grahame meet in 1978 when he is 26 and she is 54, so she is closer in numerical age to Turner’s parents, who are also her longtime fans. Grahame’s cancer spreads grief, compassion and heartache through her lover’s family, while her own biological family remains clueless about her medical condition. Grahame’s health decays as nursing scenes are interspersed with Turner’s adoring recollections of their love story.

Turner (Jamie Bell) and Grahame (Annette Bening) meet when Grahame moves into an apartment in the first floor of Turner’s group house to prepare for a local theater production. Turner is immediately smitten as they dance like teenagers and sip on festive drinks in the middle of the day, sparks flying. Their chemistry is believable and at times endearing. Aging is palpably difficult for Grahame, and Turner makes her feel young and beautiful. During several scenes, she reacts (and overreacts) to comments about her age while Turner repairs her emotional wounds and stitches her back together. They are blissfully connected, and clearly compatible.

The core of their bond, from a psychological perspective, is their shared level of emotional maturity. In one especially painful scene, Turner learns from Grahame’s mother and sister that Grahame was outcast from Hollywood society when she divorced her second husband (director Nicholas Ray) and eventually married and had children with Ray’s son. [According to Hollywood lore, their affair began while Ray and Grahame were married and Grahame’s stepson was only thirteen years old.] In the scene, Grahame is in the other room as her mother and sister beg Turner to resist marrying Grahame no matter how much she begs. They assure Turner that another marriage would embarrass her family beyond the permanent damage already inflicted by her raucous musings.

Grahame’s intriguing real life backstory enhances the film. Despite their passion, viewers may sense that Grahame and Turner’s love seems vulnerable and may not have endured had Grahame’s illness not cut their relationship short. Nevertheless, the love story is a worthwhile and moving essay demonstrating that numerical age is much less relevant than maturity when it comes to love.