Truth is elusive in Anatomy of a Fall, a courtroom drama that takes a simple incident–one that happens offscreen in a matter of seconds–and wrings all the cinematic potential out of it. Not unlike the work of Asghar Farhadi, director Justine Triet’s film uses dense procedural detail to drill into the interior lives of her characters. The result is frequently enthralling, including lengthy courtroom scenes that turn into a muted battle of wills, as well as quieter scenes where we learn more about the characters and somehow understand less about them.
The fall happens in the first few minutes of the film. A graduate student (Camille Rutherford) visits a famous novelist named Sandra (Sandra Hüller) at her chalet in the French mountains, although the interview is cut short because Sandra’s husband Samuel (Samuel Theis) incessantly plays music on a loop, louder and louder. The music is the first of Triet’s many provocations: the film has little non-diegetic music, and the tune – an instrumental version of “P.IM.P.” by 50 Cent – becomes important to the plot and betrays the solemnity of what follows. After the couple’s son Daniel (Milo Machado-Graner) walks his dog to escape the music, he returns to find the lifeless corpse of his father, who apparently fell out a window. Or was he pushed? In countless interviews with Sandra and a subsequent court case, everyone tries to learn what happened in Samuel’s final moments.
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The nature of the inquiry, led at first by Sandra’s defense attorney Vincent (Swann Arlaud) and later a zealous prosecutor (Antoine Reinartz), does not rely on much forensic evidence. Nothing physical points to foul play, nor does it absolve Sandra, and so the trial becomes an attempt to litigate the family’s personal life. We learn a lot about Sandra and Samuel’s relationship, flawed and complex like many modern marriages, while Daniel adds the occasional crucial detail. Daniel is also blind from a childhood accident, a disability that makes him unreliable and means the court gives his special care and protection out of the courtroom. Triet’s drama is less about a verdict and more an exhuming of a marriage or family. And for her part, Sandra keeps her feelings to herself, except when she relaxes slightly and acts relieved, not like a widower.
Any two people could watch Anatomy of a Fall and have completely different interpretations of what happened to Samuel. This is by design and could make for fun post-viewing arguments, although there is a greater purpose beneath all that. Triet and Hüller want us to examine our prejudices, whether it is a woman who acts contrite only when it is a convenient, or a flamboyant prosecutor who needles his witnesses like he has a grudge. The courtroom scenes, unlike the recent French drama Saint Omer, show a livelier legal proceeding than we see in America. Sure, the attorneys are wearing robes, although it is more of a discussion than an examination. Everyone freely debates, including witnesses who provide information outside of direct testimony, while the judge rarely intercedes. All these differing viewpoints ultimately raise more questions, and are filmed in such a breathless way that we hardly notice just how difficult it must be to sustain them. The language also adds to the verisimilitude, bouncing between English and French to compensate with Sandra’s imperfect grasp of the latter.
The performances are what buoy the film. Triet’s script, co-written with Arthur Harari, includes enough details so Sandra, Vincent and the rest are modern individuals who do not follow the rules of the typical courtroom film. Yes, they protest an unfair line of questioning and rage against the indignity of a trial, and yet they are more flushed-out than that, something that deepens our feeling that we only get a simulacrum of the truth. All this culminates in a lengthy flashback with Samuel, a brutal recorded argument with husband and wife, that brings out the kind of wounds and frustrations that Ingmar Bergman would sometimes explore. There are also crucial supporting characters, like Marge (Jehnny Beth), best known as the vocalist in the postpunk band Savages, and here tempers her rage to play a court-appointed caretaker for Daniel. Her empathetic turn is a stark contrast to the unnamed prosecutor, who only appears in the courtroom, the sort of lawyer whose flamboyance hides a razor-sharp mind. The best scenes involve him matching wits with Sandra and Daniel, and how he handles the surprise of what they say.
Anatomy of a Fall won the Palme d’Or, the top prize at the Cannes Film Festival, and the film’s exacting, narrow scope may not be the best fit for arguably the world’s most prestigious film prize. Maybe The Zone of Interest, also starring Hüller, was too controversial. Maybe jury president Ruben Östlund found value in the film because, like Force Majeure, it mines a small incident for maximum dramatic potential. Then again, its central point about the mystery of ordinary people is a universal one and not often explored this thoroughly. We may not entirely trust Sandra or Daniel in the final scenes, and yet there is enough here so we have a narrative, not an answer. The punch in the gut is how almost all trials cannot hope for more.
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