Anatomy of a Fall

Anatomy of a Fall opens by treating us to a casual yet revealing conversation between two women. Zoé (Camille Rutherford) is interviewing novelist Sandra Voyter (Sandra Hüller) at her home, but they’re disrupted by Sandra’s husband Samuel (Samuel Theis) cranking his music so loud that it shakes the house. This opening scene perfectly sets the stage for what’s to come. The focus is ostensibly Sandra, but in reality their chat is about so much more, and brings to light uncomfortable details about other people as well. Meanwhile, the influence of Samuel is oppressive and undeniable, hanging over the whole film and driving events, even as he never makes an appearance (well, not until very late).

The story concerns his death, sometime shortly following that opening scene. A fall out of a window: seemingly pedestrian, but a few inconsistencies bring further scrutiny, which in turn muddy the waters enough that foul play is suspected, with Sandra as the chief suspect. She hires Vincent (Swann Arlaud), an old friend, to head her defense, and a year later, the trial commences.

Plot-wise, this is pretty simple. But as with any good courtroom drama, the complexity and tension and themes emerge from the investigation and witness questioning. Over half the movie takes place in the courtroom, and much of it sees Sandra on the receiving end of questions from an incredibly zealous prosecutor (Antoine Reinartz). He picks apart every single word she utters, refuses to accept explanations that he finds surprising, and generally demands she explain all the nuances of her relationship with Samuel. Which begins to unspool just how unorthodox their marriage was. Or maybe it just demonstrates how hard it can be to truly appreciate the complexities of relationship dynamics when you’re not privy to their private life over many years.

Whatever the case, director Justine Triet does an incredible job putting you in Sandra’s headspace. You really feel the intensity of the questioning, how invasive and uncomfortable and pedantic it is. Regardless of whether she’s guilty, it’s upsetting to witness someone forced to lay bare their private life before the public, to enter all these details into the legal record. It’s even more disturbing to watch as her son Daniel (Milo Machado-Graner) learns some incredibly intimate details about his parents and their marriage while sitting in the Gallery, some of which involve him.

Outside of the courtroom is not drama free. Sandra’s house is host to re-enactments and gathering of forensic data, as well as the initial questioning. More poignant is when the court appoints a magistrate named Marge (Jehnny Beth) to oversee Sandra’s interactions with her son, as Daniel is a witness and there are concerns of tampering. All of which comes back around to bear on the trial, as every single inch of the incident and possible series of events and actions taken by the deceased and the accused are picked over and asserted. Even the content of some of Sandra’s novels are brought up as evidence over the protests of her counsel. The absurdity of the hunt for deeper meaning in everything is most exemplified by an extended discussion of the song Samuel blared at the beginning of the movie, and whether its selection was arbitrary or if Samuel was trying to send a message to Sandra.

Triet seems to be most interested in how we can possibly establish the “truth” when no one and nothing was there to witness it. And given that, how relevant are all the details of one’s life and relationships to determining what happened at this one moment? How much can we truly learn about an event from the context around it? It calls the whole concept of justice without concrete evidence into question. As Vincent and a couple others point out early on, it’s not enough to uncover the truth. Truth isn’t the point. It’s about who can tell the most compelling and plausible story. Which is especially relevant here, since all we have are a bunch of conflicting evidence and hearsay, all which open the door to interpretation and bias.

It also seems relevant that the prosecutor and each expert he calls are all men, and none of their interpretations of events are the least bit generous. Each one seems certain of her guilt. Emphasizing this is the defendants calling their own expert, who happens to be a woman, and shows how the evidence could instead exonerate Sandra. The same for their “character witness”, Zoé. Triet doesn’t call attention to this dynamic, nor to the issue of sexism in the proceedings. But I would find it hard to believe this divide is accidental. Her message isn’t complex or new, but it’s important, that men (and society at large) are quick to accuse women of transgressions, and eager to expose their so-called “moral failings”.

Triet and her composer are fantastically restrained with the score. To my recollection, the only music we hear comes from Daniel playing piano at home. He returns to the same piece over and over as he works to perfect it, giving the movie a diegetic musical theme. And despite its speed and complexity, that we’re only hearing a sole upright piano gives it an almost minimalist air, while its frantic and imprecise nature serve to ratchet up your anxiety.

While every performance is great, Hüller is breathtaking. She’s so natural in a role which calls for her to embody being quite literally out of place. Sandra is never comfortable, which Hüller seems to thrive on. She captures the contradictory emotions, the frustration, the exasperation, and the stress that she can only combat by living life as if nothing has changed. Her layers peel back one by one, slowly over the runtime, and always feel like the audience gaining an understanding of an existing person. Which is a credit to the writing as well, to be clear, but Hüller sells it all impeccably.

Machado-Graner deserves a call-out, too. He does very well throughout, and really turns it up in the final third or so. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but he avoids some of the pitfalls common to child performances. He maintains perfect continuity of character and displays believable change and uncertainty, despite the understanding of his life changing dramatically through the trial.

The whole film is an excellent exercise in building tension, and refusing to give the audience any easy outs. Every single detail is murky, every action has multiple interpretations, and no one is trustworthy. It’s the exact type of legal drama you want, keeping you hanging on every word, scouring for answers, and rolling out reveals at just the right moments. As we dig further into their lives and this situation, we become less certain what happened. Which just causes us in the audience to redouble our efforts to figure it out. And the deeper we go, the more successfully Triet has ensnared us in her web. It’s an exhilarating watch, and incredibly well deserving of its Palme d'Or win earlier this year.