Anatomy of a Fall analyzes a fall, yes, but it also dissects a marriage. Indeed, it literally puts one on trial.
Masterfully constructed and shatteringly acted, the film centers on the death of Samuel (Samuel Theis), a teacher and writer living with his novelist wife, Sandra (Sandra Hüller), and 11-year-old son, Daniel (Milo Machado Graner), in a modest chalet on a snowy hilltop in the French Alps. Coming back from a walk with his loyal dog, Snoop, Daniel discovers his father’s bloodied body laying on the icy ground, below an open, third-story attic window from which he fell, jumped, or was pushed. An investigation ensues, one that puts Sandra under suspicion and the couple’s relationship—both personal and professional—under a microscope of conjecture, speculation, and secondhand testimony (including from Daniel, who is called as a witness in the eventual trial).
There are surrounding details, but it’s best to leave you to discover them on your own. This is a movie, after all, about the subjectivity of observation, experience, and memory, so I would hate to influence you one way or the other on any of those counts. Suffice it to say the film—written by Justine Triet and Arthur Harari and directed by Triet—takes as its guiding thesis an early observation an interviewer makes about Sandra’s writing process: “For you to start inventing, you need something real first.”
As director, Triet has an understated presence, though she knows how to deliver the occasional, potent punch. A high-angle shot, looking down at the snow from that attic window, is a crucial recurring motif; each time it appears, we scrounge the screen for more clues. Similarly, two pieces of music—an instrumental version of 50 Cent’s “P.I.M.P.,” played on repeat by Samuel, and Isaac Albéniz’s “Asturias (Leyenda),” which Daniel is learning on the piano —add a repetitive, maddening intensity. Working with editor Laurent Sénéchal, Triet increases the sophistication of the film in terms of point of view as it goes on, especially as Anatomy of a Fall begins to incorporate Daniel’s memories (and, at times, imagination).
Graner is heartbreaking as Daniel, a boy who has always known more about his parents than he has allowed himself to face, but is now being forced to confront it in the harsh glare of a courtroom. (The boy’s vision is impaired from an accident when he is younger, a metaphorical attribute that also makes him seem more vulnerable.) As Samuel, Theis only has a handful of scenes, but one in particular—a flashback to a bitter argument with Sandra—is raw, pleading, and soul-baring enough to mark his as one of the best supporting performances of the year. Perhaps the best lead performance of 2023 belongs to Hüller, who is achingly sincere as Sandra, while never pleading for an ounce of audience sympathy. It’s her purposeful performance, more than anything else, that opens the door to doubt.
The core dilemma for Sandra, whether she is guilty or not, is that in order to be exonerated she must construct a false narrative about her marriage for the jury, in order to paint a rosier picture than the one that actually existed. Sometimes the truth hurts, sometimes it kills.
(11/1/2023)
