“Anatomy of a Fall”, a riveting whodunnit, wins at Cannes

THE TWO most prestigious awards at the 76th Cannes Film Festival went to Jonathan Glazer’s “The Zone of Interest”, which received the runner-up’s prize, the Grand Prix, and Justine Triet’s “Anatomy of a Fall” (or “Anatomie d’une chute”), which received the first prize, the Palme d’Or (pictured, top). Many critics felt that those two results were the wrong way round, but perhaps Mr Glazer’s formally radical drama about the Holocaust was too divisive for the competition jury to unite behind.

In any case, “Anatomy of a Fall” is a penetrating, intelligent and juicily entertaining courtroom murder mystery, and its win is a significant one: Ms Triet, who is French, is only the third female director to receive the top award, after Jane Campion for “The Piano” in 1993 and Julia Ducournau for “Titane” in 2021. Though both “The Zone of Interest” and “Anatomy of a Fall” showcase the talents of the same German actor, Sandra Hüller, she is so impressive in “Anatomy of a Fall” that she is bound to be nominated for further awards in the coming months, including an Oscar.

Ms Hüller plays a German novelist who lives in an Alpine chalet near Grenoble with her French husband, a frustrated writer played by Samuel Theis. It is no coincidence that their characters are named Sandra and Samuel: one of the movie’s themes is the blurring of real life and fiction. One morning after Sandra has been interviewed by an admiring young journalist, the couple’s blind son Daniel (Milo Michado Graner) goes out for a walk with their dog (the winner, incidentally, of this year’s “Palm Dog” garland given by jocular British critics to their favourite canine Cannes performer).

When they return, Daniel finds that his father has plummeted from the chalet’s attic window. Was it an accident? Did someone push him—or did he jump? Sandra insists to her lawyer, Vincent (Swann Arlaud), that Samuel would not have killed himself. Yet during the ingeniously constructed court case that follows (pictured, below), it becomes clear that neither murder nor suicide is out of the question.

Twists and revelations keep coming, and the characters’ histories keep deepening. Does it matter that one of Sandra’s novels was based on an idea from a book that her husband had abandoned? Is it relevant that Sandra’s lawyer is an old friend who once had a crush on her? And if her husband really did kill himself, is there a degree to which Sandra is culpable, anyway? Some television pundits comment that the death is just the kind of thing that the blonde, bisexual Sandra writes about in her autofiction. Ms Hüller portrays her steely Sandra as earnest and sympathetic, but she does not give away any clues as to whether she is innocent or guilty. Her character and the plot make the film, on one level, an arthouse version of “Basic Instinct” (1992).

“Anatomy of a Fall” also echoes “Marriage Story” by Noah Baumbach: Ms Triet’s work shows how a relationship that seems perfect to outsiders—and sometimes even to those within it—can fester with resentment. As Sandra is cross-examined, Ms Triet and her co-writer, Arthur Harari, catalogue the stresses of infidelity, career imbalances, money worries, and parenting schedules. A flashback to a dazzlingly scripted, brutal argument between Sandra and Samuel will be awkward viewing to anyone in a long-term relationship.

A third film which “Anatomy of a Fall” resembles is “Force Majeure”, a similarly thorough cinematic dissection of an unhealthy marriage. This was the breakthrough hit from Ruben Östlund, a Swedish writer-director who went onto be the president of Cannes’ competition jury this year. Perhaps the connection between his creation and the winner enabled him to overlook its contrivances and plot holes. But most viewers should be able to overlook those flaws, too. What makes “Anatomy of a Fall” so riveting is that it starts as a post-Christie whodunnit, but it becomes something more personal and profound. Its central mystery does not just concern the death of Samuel, but the death of love. ■