Anatomy of a Fall
Every week, a piece of true crime content seems to manifest itself across one of the platforms we’ve been conditioned to consume. Whether it be a new podcast uprooting a cold case with no regard to the real-life family of the victims or a fictionalization of the grisly murder(s) themselves, each follows the same formula. The crime is set up, brutal images of the scene are portrayed, and the usual suspects are introduced – the possessive ex-boyfriend, the spiteful wife, the sibling harboring a dark secret. As first-hand survivors of the crime and those who act as collateral damage to the events relive their trauma, it leads up to a shattering revelation we should’ve seen coming – it was the neighbor set on revenge. This sensationalization of real-life crimes as entertainment has satiated the craving millions have for the macabre to the point of normalization. While Anatomy of a Fall is a work of fiction, it challenges our obsession with true crime and examines our fixation on the spectacle of the courtroom. The procedural drama depicts the trial of Sandra Voyter (Sandra Hüller) after her husband takes a fatal fall from the third story of their ski chalet. Throughout the two hours and a half, whether the death was an intentional murder or a result of suicide is put to the test as director and co-writer Justine Triet examines the fragility of perception and the intricacies of marriage and motherhood.
From the second Sandra’s son, Daniel (Milo Machado Grenier), finds his father Samuel’s corpse, the film hits the ground running and never flinches to release its grip thanks to Triet and fellow co-writer Arthur Harari’s tight screenplay. As with most procedurals, the dialogue carries the weight of the film through inquisitive discussions between client and lawyer, daggers thrown between husband and wife, and quips between defendant and prosecutor. Triet and Harari craft lines of dialogue so enthralling that the film’s pacing is all-consuming. Laurent Sénéchal’s seamless editing serves to benefit the speed at which the film goes as it heightens the tension within conversations, takes us into the headspace of characters, and depicts various moments in time.
Daniel (Grenier) attempting to find some sort of answers to his father’s death amidst the inner turmoil he faces.
Without the power behind the film’s performances, Anatomy of a Fall (and any film similar to it) is increasingly susceptible to immediately falling flat. However, Sandra Hüller takes control of the leading role with the nuance and gravitas required to propel the film. Through minuscule manipulations of her face, Hüller depicts even the most subtle of her character’s emotions. Within singular scenes, a shift in her thought process can be distinguished without any words. The depth she brings to Sandra allows us to see past the facade or image the character attempts to portray to the court and into her true feelings and motivations. Milo Machado Grenier as her son Daniel is easily on par with Hüller’s talent. As the innocent boy is thrust into the legal proceedings, the audience can easily empathize with him while he not only comes to grips with the death of his father but juggles with being the only witness and essentially the one to determine the outcome of his mother’s fate. Grenier’s performance immediately puts to rest any excuse one might want to make for a child actor’s subpar execution in any other film.
Tensions rise between Sandra (Sandra Hüller) and her lawyer, Vincent (Swann Arlaud), as doubt of her innocence and role in the murder of her husband begins to permeate all of her relationships.
Working in tandem, these aspects of Anatomy of a Fall perfectly place us in the headspace of our characters and instill doubt, causing us to second-guess what we just witnessed a few minutes earlier, much like the protagonists themselves. Through the course of this mental back-and-forth, we are exposed first-hand to Triet’s themes. By twisting seemingly mundane actions Sandra performed earlier in the film and using them as fuel for her possible incrimination, Triet is stressing and inherently ridiculing the importance that perception holds in life-altering decisions, both in the courtroom and in what the media portrays. Essentially, Anatomy of a Fall takes the adage of a sane person appearing as “crazy” if placed in a psych ward and applies it to the courtroom and 24-hour media cycle context we’re all familiar with to drive the point home. In the constant influx of true crime content we see today, Triet reckons with ugly truths that arise from it. Fights between spouses occur within relationships on a routine basis, yet if placed on trial, the same fight that seemed inconsequential can be the defining factor of a court ruling. Misremembering a minute detail due to a barrage of questions from authorities can sway the direction of the trial. A body of work created for entertainment or a simple statement made years ago can be used to define a motive in the far future. Triet puts our relationship with the subjects of high-profile crimes on trial and forces us to confront how we interact with such individuals and events.
Even though it holds up a mirror to our gluttonous desire to consume others’ trauma, Anatomy of a Fall never betrays or mocks its core audience. It excels in being exactly what it markets itself as – an engrossing procedural that follows the formula until it flips the narrative on its head and subverts any tropes we may expect of the genre. Anatomy of a Fall analyzes how even the most monotonous of details can be spun to fit any perception in an almost “meta” fashion and criticizes the conflation of real-life crime with spectacle while enlisting expert performances and an engrossing screenplay to incite introspection beyond the credits.
Verdict: This Palme d’Or winner is the quintessential example of an “eyes glued to the screen” flick and undeniably, a Nick Pick.