Anatomy of a Fall
2023's ANATOMY OF A FALL is a potent dissection of a marriage mostly delivered via courtroom histrionics, and it's remarkable that co-writer/director Justine Triet created a film that despite its familiarity in both theme and venue feels quite novel. That last word is not an attempt at a bad pun, as the husband and wife in question are authors, and the wife, accused of killing her husband, has her own writings used against her in court. Triet and Arthur Harari's screenplay is a compellingly complex study of "truth", and how each of us perceives it. How past events inform today's opinions and deductions, leading to composites of being, even if what actually happened may not coincide.
Samuel Maleski (Samuel Theis) falls to his death one afternoon outside his mountain chalet in southern France. He will be discovered by his visually impaired son Daniel (Milo Machado-Graner) and wife Sandra (Sandra Huller). Just earlier, Sandra had to cut short an interview with a student due to her husband's decision to blare his music. Daniel takes the family dog out for a walk. Sandra goes upstairs. When later questioned by the authorities, she recalls inserting some earplugs and working on her laptop. When Samuel's head wound and an audio recording of tense argument (the day before) between the couple emerge, Sandra is indicted. Did she whack him on the head? Were his words on the recording enough to paint the portrait of a woman past her breaking point?
Most of ANATOMY OF A FALL unfolds in a cavernous courtroom with a configuration unfamiliar to American eyes. The jury sits around the judge. Counsel sit not at tables but on chairs in an elevated gallery on either side of the room. Witnesses have a podium. Awfully theatrical. As trials, both fictional or otherwise, tend to be. Laurent Senechal's editing shines during these scenes, adding further mystery to Huller's character. Her face betrays nothing. Evidence appears damning, yet it's all in the interpretation. Sadly, also in real life.
This film has been widely praised and deservedly so. The actors are spellbinding. Real. Seasoned viewers may be reminded of Ingmar Bergman and maybe Alfred Hitchcock, but Triet's approach makes it feel unique. Many of the usual bits are here (on scene reenactments, attempted disqualification of expert witnesses, lengthy monologues) yet never reaching for the sensational. Triet also knows what to leave out.
Thankfully, she gives ample screen time to Snoop, said family dog, played by Messi, a border collie. He's integral in the later scenes. Let me join the chorus of those who think he got robbed during awards season.
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