Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

Original title: Anatomie d’une chute

A snowy chalet, a chilling accusation, and a family fractured by grief and suspicion. Anatomy of a Fall plunges us into a murder mystery that unfolds the complexities of a marriage with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. This French drama, which Justine Triet directed, is haunting in all the right ways. It appears to be a whodunit, but at its core, it is an exploration of love, loss, and the blurred lines between reality and perception.

Literally opening with a bang—a man lying lifeless in snow, his wife Sandra, sometimes called Clara in the movie (played with captivating intensity by Sandra Hüller), the prime suspect—the film unravels layers upon layers of their troubled marriage. The tapestry reveals threads of infidelity, resentment, and yearning for independence. Caught in this psychological chess game, Sandra’s blind son Daniel (played beautifully by newcomer Milo Machado Graner) becomes an unwitting pawn in a game where accusations fly faster than bullets, all while his innocence tries to dodge them.

Anatomy of a Fall transcends its genre—courtroom drama—where legal proceedings are meticulously portrayed but serve as nothing more than a backdrop to what feels like just being human. Not one character is painted as purely good or evil; shades of grey are thrown onto everyone’s canvas. Clara, despite her stoicism, reveals vulnerabilities that tug at your heartstrings. Her husband, the seemingly successful writer Samuel, harbours secrets long enough to cast not shadows but darkness. Even Daniel, with angelic innocence, grapples with his own internal conflicts.

Triet’s direction is masterful at creating suspense beyond the screen—you won’t stop questioning what happened until long after you leave the theatre. The snow-covered French Alps setting becomes another character whose isolation mirrors the emotional divide within the family. With deliberate pacing, Anatomy of a Fall lets tensions simmer, allowing characters to breathe—it isn’t fast-paced action, but it is slow-burning intensity that’ll feel like embers on your skin long after the credits roll.

Performances are nothing short of stellar. Hüller delivers a tour-de-force portrayal of a woman fighting for her freedom and sanity. Her steely gaze and nuanced expressions capture depths of emotion only felt by the soul. Graner, in his debut role, is equally impressive. His portrayal of Daniel, a young man navigating his own darkness while fighting to protect his mother from her own, is both heartbreaking and hopeful.

The film’s score—a mix of koto strings, shakuhachi (exotic flutes), and big taiko drums—ramps up emotional undercurrents at all the right times. The cinematography will leave you breathless, capturing both the stark beauty of snow-covered landscapes and the claustrophobic intimacy of courtrooms. From the colours chosen to the editing choices, every detail works in perfect harmony to sharpen the mood and message.

The glacial pace won’t appeal to everyone but will work for some, while others might find the ending too ambiguous. However, everything Anatomy of a Fall does well overshadows these elements, even if you don’t like them. It’s thought-provoking, resonating with every beat and frame—you won’t forget this movie long after you leave the theatre.

So should you watch Anatomy of a Fall? Absolutely. It’s unflinching in its honesty, as Triet takes human relationships apart piece by piece for our viewing pleasure. If you want something that will test perception and keep your mind turning long after it ends, then you need to see this movie filled with slow-burn depth with more questions than answers at every corner.

(In cinemas — check your local movie guide for show times.)