Wednesday, January 31, 2024

Anatomy Lesson

In 2023, the winner of the Palme d'Or -- the top prize at the Cannes Film Festival -- was "Anatomie d'une chute," or as it's known in English, Anatomy of a Fall. The drumbeat of praise kept coming after that win, with the film appearing on many critics' "best" lists, and the movie ultimately securing an Oscar nomination for Best Picture.

At a secluded mountain home in France, Sandra Voyter discovers the body of her husband Samuel Maleski. He has apparently fallen from the highest balcony of the home -- or perhaps, as the police conclude -- he's been pushed. A trial ensues, showcasing the peculiarities of France's legal system, and upending the lives of Sandra and her young, blind son Daniel.

It seems to me that none of the discourse I've seen surrounding this movie has really done it justice. Most recently, the talk has centered around director Justine Triet, who earned an Oscar nomination for her work in a category that seemingly can support only one woman at a time; Triet and Anatomy of a Fall have seemingly been cast as a "spoiler" for Greta Gerwig and Barbie.

Before that, the American ad campaign for the movie, complete with hashtag, revolved around the question of "did she do it?" -- IS Sandra Voyter a murderer, or an innocent woman? And while certainly different people will find different "access points" into a movie, I personally feel like that question turns out to be one of the least interesting things about Anatomy of a Fall. For one thing, the answer seems quite unambiguous to me, as I read the movie. (I'd be fascinated to have a conversation with someone who reached the opposite conclusion on that, to see what led them there.) More importantly, the movie so clearly places other concerns in a brighter spotlight.

To me, this movie is most "about" being forced through the meat grinder that is the legal system. It's the first "legal thriller" I've seen in some time to put the emphasis squarely on the "legal" part and hardly at all on the "thriller" aspect. And while it undoubtedly plays differently to a French audience, it's a unique trip for an American audience. I would hardly hold up the U.S. justice system as a paragon of excellence, and many stories can be (and have been) told about the unjust quirks to its mechanisms. Still, watching how a trial in France works blew my mind (even knowing that surely some aspects of the presentation here must have been exaggerated for dramatic effect).

Add to that strangeness the fact that this is very much a bilingual film. French is not the main character's first language. (Nor is English, actually; but as she says at one point in the film, she sees English as a point at which to "meet halfway.") Sandra Voyter is on trial for murder, is forced to defend herself in a forum where the "right not to testify" does not exist, and she must conduct that defense in her third language.

The language barrier is only one aspect in which this is a movie about "alienation." A separation is driven between Sandra and her son Daniel, that relationship being a key part of the story. And one of the most damning pieces of evidence against her is a recording that Sandra says lacks full context. In short, the core theme of the movie pervades absolutely every aspect of the story.

Sandra Hüller plays the character of Sandra Voyter. She has earned an Oscar nomination of her own here, for Best Actress. One could begin to support that nomination purely for the technical difficulty of the language; she's a German actress portraying a role in French and English, and her emotions ring through loud and clear in every moment. You might criticize that her portrayal isn't murky enough; that performance is the main reason why I felt so confident in my conclusions about the character's guilt or innocence. (Though I really don't feel the film was trying to be ambiguous on this point.) Ultimately, though, I praise the performance for showcasing such a wide range of emotional intensity without often resorting to the sort of shouting histrionics that normally courts Oscar voters.

All that praise heaped upon the movie, I do want to temper my apparent enthusiasm a little. For all the good qualities of Anatomy of a Fall, I also want to be clear that it is a glacially-paced movie. As I said, there's barely any "thriller" in this legal thriller. There isn't even a score to heighten the tension; the only music featured are the piano practices of young Daniel. Had this movie not found as much success as it has, I could easily imagine the Hollywood remake that would ditch the thematic commentary for more action-driven jolts. (Not that this would have been better. But there's certainly room to reconstruct it that way.) As engaging as I usually found the movie, I can't say I never checked my watch during its two-and-a-half hour run time.

But all told, I would give the movie a B+. And I do think it's worth including on my "slowly approaching a Top 10" list of best movies from 2023. I think it's probably destined to lose every one of the five Oscars it's up for (Best Original Screenplay is the only category in which it might have a chance), though I am glad it racked up some more award attention to draw in a wider audience to see it.

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