Anatomy of a Fall

Following the uproar Anatomy of a Fall garnered at this year’s festival in Cannes, I took upon the advanced screening offer that USC advertised to its Cinematic Arts students. In many ways, receiving the Palme d’Or at the festival brings incomparable attention to the recipients and provides a lens, I’d argue, through which one can understand the state of filmmaking during such year. Although many attendees have wrongly condemned the festival’s jury for merely selecting the film which most coincides with the festival’s own politics, the award should be best remembered as a reflection of the new and surfacing branch of cinema that it highlights. However, what is most intriguing about Anatomy of a Fall lies in its clear indication of the director’s cinematic voice. Starting with the title alone, which clearly derives its name from the 1959 film Anatomy of a Murder, there is an explicit admiration for cinema combined with a unique sense of emerging style. I quickly observed the countless nods to influential crime films of years past, such as Diabolique, that ultimately provide a compelling statement on contemporary filmmakers’ seemingly lack of interest in truly accomplished historical films. Nearly all scenes include some form of idiosyncratic rhythm and camera arrangement, beginning with the film’s opening of a carefully planned and intricate home interior as the camera slowly begins to compliment the environment with equally symmetrical compositions and motion. As the plot continues, Sandra (Sandra Huller), the protagonist, finds herself pinned by investigators as responsible for her husband’s three-story fall to death. Elaborating on the clear inspiration from Anatomy of a Murder, the remaining second and third acts unfold as a courtroom drama, where Sandra attempts to defend her innocence. Though the remaining parts of the film portray a vivid deconstruction of family dynamics, by use of various testimonies during the trial, it leaves the audience member inherently grasping onto nothing. The film presents these everyday-household qualities as thematically important, yet it didn’t previously build upon these aspects to where it feels earned. Instead, the script carelessly asserts these notions in various methods of exposition, whether that be flashback or mere soliloquy, to the extent that it almost feels underdeveloped. Structural mistakes aside, Anatomy of a Murder is rather thematically blunt in the execution of its ideas. The film especially uses the procedures of the French judicial system as a manner to uncover the overall justice administration’s apparent ignorance for familial relations. Where the film proves underwhelming in its development of such themes, it portrays them in such extreme and thoughtful levels to ultimately equal their importance. In spite of my criticism of the film, this year’s Palme d’Or winner brilliantly represents a call to action for filmmakers to exhibit complex matters through creative and revolutionary lenses.

Time Stamp: October 2023