Anatomy of a Fall

Anatomy of a Fall asks its audience to think about how we think about things and how we choose what we believe. It’s interested in the form of storytelling as much as it is interested in telling a story.

It’s such a leisurely and deliberate approach it could seem like a very boring affectation. Instead, it’s mesmerising because of the diversions Triet comes up with along the way.

An example of how a movie can succeed in multiple genres at once...

An intricately layered, surgically controlled drama that operates as both a courtroom thriller and an investigation of the mysterious recesses of domestic life, the film is as chilly as its French Alpine setting yet never distancing.

Ultimately, one of the key pleasures of the picture is its uncertainty – the niggling doubts that remain, and the sense that a crucial piece of the puzzle is tantalisingly out of reach.

It’s confident, classical filmmaking, yet despite its many formal and thematic pleasures, doesn’t offer a whole lot that’s new.

Spanning 2 hours and 32 minutes, “Anatomy of a Fall” blends together some fine whodunit to enrich the legal drama subgenre of which its narrative is a significant part.

A competent, intriguing drama like this gaining award traction feels more symptomatic of it being the kind of good film that is now a rare occurrence within the film zeitgeist, rather than one that feels like it will be remembered after the award cycle

Anatomy of a Fall is a fantastic drama that explores the life of its main character in ways very few films manage to do when taking on that goal

Anatomy of a Fall is not truly a story about marriage, good, bad, whatever. It is a story about how cinema can reconcile these estranged genres of prose. More prosaically, it is about how a mother needs her son, and how a son needs his mother...