Anatomy of a Fall

Sandra, her husband Samuel, their young vision-impaired son Daniel, and Daniel’s dog Snoop, all live in a large A-frame house set high up on the snowy slopes of the French Alps above Savoie, France.

Sandra and Samuel are having the kind of issues that couples can have. Samuel’s career has stagnated, while Sandra seems to be successful. Samuel moved the family to his hometown in France, intending to remodel their A-frame himself into a space they can use as a B&B, but the work is dragging on. Sandra agreed to the move, but she feels isolated and lonely there, missing their old home in London, and the locals in France find her German nature to be cold and unfriendly. Samuel thinks Sandra is controlling. Sandra thinks Samuel is manipulative. There’s a lot of residual anger still lingering over the accident years ago that left Daniel nearly blind. They communicate poorly, they’re petty and snappy and way too mean to each other. There’s been some infidelity.

There may be some violence too.

After Samuel obnoixiously derails an interview that Sandra was the subject of by playing a really loud and really shitty instrumental cover of “P.I.M.P,” by 50 Cent on repeat, Daniel takes Snoop for a long walk, perhaps sensing the coming storm of the usual fights in the air. When he returns, he finds his father outside, dead in a snowbank that is soaked in his own blood.

Did Samuel fall from the attic window above? Or did he jump?

Was he pushed?

Because of this set-up, Anatomy of a Fall seems like it’s going to be a pretty traditional mystery. In actuality, it’s more of an examination of a relationship’s fall, than it is Samuel’s. It’s the story of a crumbling marriage, and the way resentments and betrayals can build up, like tiny specks of sand within an oyster, irritating and bothersome, getting larger and larger, and eventually growing into a thing that, one way or another, will most likely end with the death of the oyster, or at the very least, see it get painfully pried open.

As much as I loved Margot Robbie and Greta Lee this year, both of whom turned in incredible performances—both of which were snubbed—and as much as I loved Lily Gladstone’s performance (I haven’t seen all of the nominees yet, but I’m hoping she wins), still… I wouldn’t be too upset if the Oscar went to Sandra Hüller either. She’s incredible here, giving a multi-faceted and complex portrayal of a woman who finds herself suddenly in the middle of a maelstorm of press and public speculation while on trial for her husband’s murder.

Hüller has very clearly considered the totality of this character too. The character’s very German mannerisms are so deliberate, all of her emotions so internal, all while not only broadcasting how those emotions are roiling around inside of her, but also clearly showing her attempts to tightly control them at the same time, it’s stunning. Is she a cold sociopath? Is she a calculating one? Or just incredibly naive, so privileged to believe that if she simply “tells the truth,” regardless of how unbelievable it may be, that it will be more than enough for her to be cleared of any wrongdoing?

It’s difficult to tell.

Watching her, it could be any, or all of these choices at any given moment, and that her performace is so obviously calibrated to be just this way too, it’s fantastic. She’s never melodramatic either, so when she does have a sudden release of emotions, it’s all the more shocking and realistic. I read somewhere that Justine Triet, the director, never actually told Hüller one way or the other whether or not her character had any direct involvement in her husband’s death either, an amazing thing to consider. I wonder what conclusion Hüller ultimately decided for herself. Does she know Sandra is lying, or does she know she’s innocent? Her denials would be the same regardless, of course, but the ambiguity of that motivation underneath her performance really keeps you guessing. Did she do it?

I think you get your answer in the end, but still… that’s not what the film is about.

It might sound like a mystery, or like a courtroom drama. There’s a puzzle here, yes. Anatomy of a Fall is concerned with the details of the investigation and with the trial surrounding Samuel’s death—which is all very interesting to watch—because that’s what’s happening in the film. The questions, the answers, the witnesses, the evidence, the various interactions betwen the members of the court, the sympathies you can’t help but have as you’re watching, the suspicions, or the commiseration, the feeling of how unfair it all, this persecution of Sandra, especially with the strain misogyny that seems to permeate the prosecution, or perhaps they’re right to be so aggressive? Does she deserve their scorn? Either way, all of this is happening under a very palatable, very official, and very professionally civil blanket of restrained anger…

It’s all riveting.

Also, sidenote… I don’t know if this film is more like some kind of French version of Perry Mason, or Matlock, or something like that when it comes to court depictions, or if this is how French courts really are, but damn, there sure is a considerable amount of monologuing that is allowed on the record in France, all involving some pretty blatant speculation too.

Anyway, like I was saying…

But as entertaining as that all is, that’s not what the film is about.

This is a film about how couples communicate, or how they might fail to communicate, and how that can lead to collapse of the relationship. It’s about the litany of issues, oft-repeated, but seemingly never heard, the idea that when neither side is listening, then neither side is understanding. Sandra and Samuel’s snow-bound A-frame all alone atop the mountain is a pretty clear metaphor for the state of their relationship, it’s cold and lonely inside and out. Anatomy of the Fall presents some very human and relatable characters and it opens them up, exposing their weaknesses, their pettiness, and asks why? How do we get here from who we once were? How does that happen? Who’s at fault? Is anyone? And at the same time, the movie recognizes that it doesn’t have any answers, because no one does. You can either try to be better, or not. And sometimes you try to be better, but you still can’t.

Sometimes you fall.

This film won the Palme d’Or at Cannes, and it’s definitely well-deserved. As an examination of a doomed marriage finally breaking down, as well as an indictment of us all and the ways we choose to fail ourselves and each other, saying that it ultimately doesn’t matter who pushed who, who said what, or who’s to blame, because in the end, the fall hurts everyone involved, it’s a fantastic film. It’s a quiet and a long film too, but still, the emotional punches will absolutely knock you out.