It's drama disconnected from plot. Mary is unsure of herself and breaks up with Mike for compelling reasons that have nothing to do with the larger world. There is no Dr. Zhivago, here; no love set against the fires of revolution. No, we dance on a smoother stage. This fabrication, in so many ways, is bumper bowling. The relative safety of the little drama conceals the fact that there is no system of winches and pulleys at the end to cram you through the chute and roll you back to the front.
Mentioning the war doesn't solve your problem. If the bread lines don't stretch or the privateers don't steal great grandpa's portrait, then your larger world doesn't really exist, because it doesn't exist because it doesn't. Mike and Mary are a pair of electrons trapped inside a balloon.
The longer you eat filler, the more it starts to taste like real food. You adapt to it because this is an interaction.