Director: Michael Haneke, 2012 (PG-13)
Stephen Covey, in his best-selling book “The 7 Habits of
Highly Effective People,” pointed out as one habit, begin with the end in mind.
Haneke does this here. A Parisian apartment is being broken into by rescue
workers, only to find an elderly woman lying serenely in death, adorned with
beautiful flowers in her hair. Thus, we know there will be no happy ending. The
story is how we arrive at this point.
Haneke’s latest film won the coveted Palm d’Or at the Cannes
Film Festival and is up for the Best Picture Oscar. It is a story of love. But
you could have figured that out from the French title. But this is no Hollywood
love story, with spritely and sensual lovers. Most modern love stories focus on
young people. Not kids, although Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom centered on adolescents experiencing love.
Usually, the hero and heroine are in their twenties, sometimes their thirties.
Beyond this and it is usually a dramatic comedy of extended virginity or
parental problems. But Haneke takes a different tack. He addresses love at the
other end of the spectrum: geriatric love, if you will. Powerful, but austere.
Sensitive, yet sympathetic. Emotional without being sentimental. And he does it
all without a true musical score. There are no violins to trigger a tear or
two. Instead, we can hear what is happening as though it were our apartment.
The only music we hear comes from a CD player in the living room or the piano
when someone plays it.
After the credits, we find ourselves looking at an audience
(from our own audience seat). A crowd of Parisiens is watching and listening to
a piano concerto. Unless we are aficionados of French cinema, we probably
cannot recognize any faces, and are not sure who to look at. But Haneke, as in
many of his films, is giving us a voyeuristic view, one that he will use as we
slowly invade the home of George (Jean-Louis Trintignant) and Anne (Emmanuelle
Riva), the elderly couple in their eighties who are somewhere in the audience.
George and Anne are cultivated and cultured. Retired music
teachers, they can appreciate the good things in life, such as this concert by
a former pupil. How will their life and their love handle the tests of end time
struggles?
Once we get to their apartment, that is where the film
stays. At breakfast one day, Anne drifts off. She is unaware of George and
anything else for several minutes. This is the first of several small strokes
that begin the process of health degeneration that leads through paralysis to
death.
The very ordinary moments of life become the means for
George to demonstrate his love. With each step of deteriorating health, his
love gets the opportunity to ascend correspondingly.
The atmosphere is somber. There is no magic pill, no
medication that can help Anne improve. As she descends into the prison of her
own immobile body, with communication becoming increasingly difficult, George
faces conflict from his daughter, Eva (Isabelle Huppert). She wants a nurse to
help or to have Anne put in a hospital or care home. George’s love, which comes
out in his decision to care for her himself as much as possible, is
misunderstood. And this shows clearly how hard it can be when others you care
about think your path is the wrong one.
The film centers on love, a love that has lasted a lifetime.
But it also centers on loss, a natural part of love and life. If we love, we
will face loss at some point. It is almost inevitable. How we do so will likely
be very personal, probably misconstrued, perhaps even unappreciated.
Some scenes stand out. The moment when the attacks begin was
mentioned before. The first instance of bedwetting, leading to adult diapers is
a clear transition point. The frustration that Eva feels when she cannot
understand a word that Anne is trying to say.
Perhaps the most poignant snapshot involves a pigeon who has
entered the apartment. The first time this happens, George is able to easily
shoo it out. The next time, it is in the entry way, and evades George’s
attempts to throw a blanket over it. But when he finally manages to do so, we
wonder what he will do. Will he, in frustration harm it (as happened in
Haneke’s earlier film, Cache)? But
his gentle cooing in its ear, despite his immediate actions, convey the love
that is still present even in the imminence of death.
Amour considers
love in old age as valuable as love during the marriage. In contrast to the
faithfulness George displays towards Anne, Eva mentions her husband’s
infidelities, and says she still loves him even as she knows his dalliances
continue.
There is no mention of religion in the whole movie. God is
absent absolutely. But love is authored by God (“God is love” -- 1 Jn. 4:8).
And the marriage relationship, created from the very beginning (Gen. 2:24) to
bring man and woman into a loving communion that mirrors that of Christ and his
church (Eph. 5:22-33), can only be sustained by self-giving love. George
demonstrates this love, a form of agape love, even when it becomes sacrificial.
Despite the subtitles and the apparent lack of action, this
film proves rewarding for the viewer ready invest some focused attention. It is
worthy of its Oscar nominations. And Riva, now the oldest person ever nominated
for a Best Actress Oscar (in the same year as Quvenzhane Wallis became the
youngest person ever nominated in the same category at age 9 for Beasts of theSouthern Wild), gives commendable work in a role where she has to really work
form within.
If you want a completely different perspective on what love
is, find a screening of Amour.
Copyright ©2013, Martin Baggs
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