The Matrix's Neo And Trinity Are Still The Definitive Sci-Fi Power Couple
"The Matrix," it's been said, is a story with myriad interpretations. It's part messianic myth, part trans allegory, part exploration of choice theory. At the end of the day though, "The Matrix" is also a love story. This probably wasn't very obvious until the saga pivoted from the sleek, apocalyptic action of the initial trilogy and dove headfirst into romance with "The Matrix Resurrections." But the films have actually always been about love: if you didn't realize it before, you may not have been looking hard enough.
The romance between Neo (Keanu Reeves) and his ride-or-die, Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss), is one of the major pillars of the "Matrix" saga. Their love is not the showiest aspect of the series — and until recently, one might have seen it as more of an afterthought. But even before "Resurrections" dedicated its story to the earth-altering power of love, Neo and Trinity were the template for sci-fi romance. Let's take a good, long look at their love story, what makes it so significant, and how it affected the "Matrix" fandom.
The meet-cute
One of the most refreshing aspects of Neo and Trinity's relationship is the subversion of the usual dynamic. From the very beginning, their roles are flip-flopped. Trinity has already been freed from the Matrix when we first meet her, and she has only one goal: to free Neo's mind in kind. This makes her the catalyst; the knight to Neo's damsel in distress. It's Trinity that kicks off the action, that introduces us to this world and its key conflict. In the beginning, her role is an active one — and thus more "masculine" too, if we're playing by the rules of the gender binary.
Of course, Wachowskis aren't interested in playing by the rules of the gender binary (of any binary, really), but playing with them. There's a reason why Neo is already familiar with Trinity when they first meet — and why he assumes she's actually a man. Trinity is "masculine," but not entirely. Neo is, too. And that's why Trinity is hardly phased by Neo's slightly sexist comment. That he imagined Trinity might have been a guy is neither here nor there for an evolved, untethered mind — but it is something that the audience is meant to take note of, not unlike this couple's off-the-charts chemistry.
Is the latter a trivial thing to notice? Maybe, maybe not. Call me old-fashioned, but it is important for a couple to have chemistry, especially this couple. So much of Neo and Trinity's development, and so much of their status as an actual power couple, hinges on their first meeting. The chemistry must be palpable here, because so much of what comes next is subtextual.
The L-word
The first thing we learn about Trinity is that she's been watching Neo from afar. She's curious about him; maybe even harboring a little crush. Cypher (Joe Pantoliano) is one of the few in Morpheus' (Lawrence Fishburne) crew that notices this (because he's grossly obsessed with Trinity), and their conversations are exactly what clue us into the concept of romance.
There's a question of whether or not Trinity believes Neo is actually The One, a messiah figure destined to free humanity from their mechanical overlords. It's a question that Cypher is constantly asking Trinity, and for good reason. Compared to others, Morpheus and Mouse (Matt Doran) especially, Trinity's faith is a quiet, uncertain one. She hesitates to admit that Neo could actually be who Morpheus thinks he is. That's because Trinity received a prophecy from The Oracle (Gloria Foster) — one that will inform her belief in a way she's not quite ready for.
"The Oracle told me that I would fall in love," Trinity eventually tells Neo. "And that that man ... the man that I loved would be The One."
Trinity's faith is inherently tied to her love. It's why when Cypher asks her, one last time, whether or not she believes what Morpheus does, she says "yes." She is not just saying that Morpheus is right, or that Neo is The One. She is saying that he has to be The One, because she loves him. Neo is nobody on his own; not even he believes that he's the savior of the world. It's only through Trinity that he becomes who he was meant to be.
The One that got away
It's hard to top that kind of romance, but Lana Wachowski managed to do just that, 22 years later, with "The Matrix Resurrections." If there was any doubt that Neo and Trinity needed each other to reach their full potential, "Resurrections" lays it out with clear, earnest intention.
The sequel (or is it a requel?) picks up decades after peace was brokered between humans and machines. The Matrix has been remade, as have Neo and Trinity. They find themselves inserted back into the program, far enough away that they're virtually strangers, but close enough to yearn for each others' presence. This is because their power together is too great to waste. Their inherent need for each other, coupled with their fear of being torn apart, is a force greater than any in the universe. Literally: it's like nuclear fusion if they can even so much as touch. And they generate even more energy by being kept apart. Their despair, their nuclear yearning, is the very thing powering this new Matrix.
Even when Neo is freed for a second time, he can't leave Trinity behind. It falls to him to get her out, but in order to do that, he has to believe in Trinity the way she always believed in him. His faith empowers her, just as he was empowered in "The Matrix." When all hope seems lost, it's Trinity who saves Neo. It's Trinity who flies. And it's, frankly, a genius twist on the male-dominated Chosen One trope.
The fandom
That brings us to one of the subtler issues with Neo and Trinity's romance. As the films wore on, Trinity's role ebbed to a supporting one, until she was killed in "The Matrix Revolutions." Trinity's death left a bad taste in the mouth of many a fan, one that "Resurrections" was obliged to remedy. And to an extent, it honestly did. The sequel suggests that Trinity had as much chance of being The One as Neo. The two are even positioned as equals — and rightly so — but the narrative remains rooted in Neo's point of view, which sidelines Trinity in every way that matters.
In "Resurrections," Trinity is once again Neo's driving force. She is what empowers him, and to a point, what awakens him. Frustratingly though, we never get to see Trinity's own awakening. We never learn how she fared in the Matrix, aside from what she tells Neo during their charged rendezvous. So much of her development occurs off-screen: we're expected to imagine what she felt and experienced, but we never experience it with her. This time, Trinity is the damsel in need of saving, just out of reach as Neo regains his mojo. For all its promises to remix the story of "The Matrix," "Resurrections" just can't help but rehash it.
Trinity deserved a chance to tell her story from her own point of view. Of course, when Trinity is essentially red-pilled — and when she and Neo team up to save the world — all these issues suddenly don't matter so much. "Resurrections" still does the work to undo the trauma of her first gruesome death. As Trinity mentions in the film, she's been given a second chance: how many characters can say the same? Frustrating developments aside, Trinity and Neo are still very much the blueprint for all that can happen when sci-fi gels with romance.