A Grim Analysis of the Human Soul Spoilers

A few days ago, the annual Cannes Film Festival officially concluded in the seaside town of Cannes. The film Anatomy of a Fall, directed by French filmmaker Justine Triet, won the festival's highest prize, the Palme d'Or, making Triet the third female director in Cannes history to receive this award, just two years after Julia Ducournau became the first French female director to win the Palme d'Or with "Titane."

This result seems to indicate a substantive improvement in the status of female filmmakers. However, according to some protesters, this so-called "improvement" may only be superficial. Just before the opening, Adèle Haenel officially announced her retirement from the industry, stating that her decision was a "political act" because the "French film industry protects sexual assault perpetrators." These incidents demonstrate that the feminist wave is still strong, although after several years of global social movements, the crashing waves may have gradually turned into "undercurrents."

In terms of the French lineup this year (excluding co-productions), female directors accounted for four out of five films in the main competition, with the only male director being Vietnamese-French filmmaker Lê Van Kiet. He won the Best Director award for his film "The Desire of Tho Dan Pham." Superficially, Cannes this year clearly leaned towards "political correctness."

However, it can be confirmed that "Anatomy of a Fall" is not merely a result of "political correctness." The film is genuinely outstanding and unquestionably of the highest standard in any given year. It tells the story of a German woman writer living in France who undergoes investigation and trial after her husband falls to his death at home. The trial has a profound impact on her family life, and her relationship with her blinded son undergoes significant changes throughout the process. Sandra Hüller delivers a brilliant performance in the film, portraying the protagonist Sandra as knowledgeable, independent, and restrained most of the time. Even when facing scrutiny from the prosecution, she maintains complete rationality. She effectively conveys both inner pain and joy through subtle expressions. At the same time, Hüller exhibits exceptional intensity when necessary, effectively conveying distinct and uncluttered emotional layers. Barring any surprises, the film is likely to achieve success at next year's Oscars, and Hüller may become a popular candidate for Best Actress.

Legal dramas have seen a significant increase in quantity in the past year or two. Last year, there was "Saint Omer," which premiered at the Venice Film Festival and won Best Picture. This year, at Cannes, there were two legal dramas: "Fall," in the main competition section, and "The Trial of Goldman," in the Directors' Fortnight. These films often feature a substantial amount of courtroom scenes, with some even taking place entirely within the courtroom. They vary in tone, ranging from calm to intense, and "Fall" falls somewhere in between.

Interestingly, these legal dramas tend to have high quality and perform well at the box office. There are several reasons for this. Firstly, the cases depicted in the films are usually controversial, making the plots engaging and audience-friendly. Secondly, the conflicts between the prosecution and defense are often intense, evoking emotional involvement and resonance from the viewers. Lastly, these dramas often delve into complex themes related to society, politics, history, and human nature, providing ample room for exploration and discussion. Particularly in recent years, with heightened social conflicts around the world, the courtroom serves as a potent lens to examine intricate issues. Additionally, as law represents the will of the ruling class, courtroom debates effectively highlight the clash between powerful, conservative social consciousness and individual experiences.

While legal dramas may seem relatively easy to produce, achieving excellence in their execution is a challenging task. On one hand, the screenwriters must navigate the relationships between the parties involved, such as the litigants, lawyers, witnesses, judges, and juries. On the other hand, dominant screenwriting can hinder the director's creativity. Thus, striking a balance or fostering collaboration between the two is exceedingly difficult. "Fall" succeeds in achieving this delicate balance, showcasing the highest standard of legal drama in recent years. This accomplishment is attributable to the collaboration between director Atoine Raimbault and her partner, Artu Aliari, who have been working together since their previous film, "Cible." Furthermore, Christine Thépénier, the director, was deeply involved in the screenwriting process. In interviews, Thépénier mentioned her habit of reading true crime stories almost every day, and her second film, "Victoria," also featured courtroom scenes. Therefore, she has developed a deep understanding of capturing the dynamics both inside and outside the courtroom and skillfully constructing character and audiovisual relationships.

From the beginning of the film, we are immersed in a suspenseful scenario: a young boy goes for a walk outdoors with his guide dog, only to return and find his father lying dead in the snow. Subsequently, we closely follow the boy's perspective as we listen to the arguments from both the prosecution and defense in the courtroom. This leads to a deeper understanding of the crime scene and gradually reveals the underlying family disputes behind the tragedy. The accidental incident involving the child plunges the couple into a predicament, and their attempts to accommodate each other eventually transform into irreconcilable conflicts. The wife appears to have a strong motive to kill her husband, yet her incredibly rational behavior in court fails to convince anyone of her guilt. Each seemingly authentic glimpse into their lives unravels within a more intricate emotional system, where every overlooked detail holds the potential to upend previous conclusions.

Terry often manipulates her camera, capturing close-ups of the female protagonist's determined and unwavering face. Simultaneously, the camera occasionally transforms into a directional television lens, offering subtle judgments and assumptions. It's not until a certain moment that we realize the audience's perspective is actually that of the child's. Like him, we are introduced for the first time to the dispute between the two individuals, unable to see the truth behind it and only able to make a futile choice guided by our inner selves. Is Sandra, the mother, really a murderer? It's an immensely weighty, agonizing question with no clear answer.

Also from this year's main competition section, another epic film is "Withered Grass" by Palme d'Or-winning director Nuri Bilge Ceylan. However, while the film may be more cynical, its one-sided emphasis on the play detracts from its overall appeal, contrasting with the perceptible craftsmanship in the writing. To some extent, Hirokazu Kore-eda and Ceylan have both experienced a decline from their peak creative states, possibly due to the problem of seeking novelty without success. In contrast, "Falling" does not pose any significant challenges for Trier. In fact, Trier has been adept at constructing complex texts and narrative structures since her debut, "Thelma," which complement the audiovisual expression and collectively create multi-faceted characters and a complex viewing experience.

The highlight of the film lies in the intense quarrel scenes between the couple, gradually escalating from calm grievances to violent madness. The cinematography gradually removes over-the-shoulder shots, completely severing the spatial connection between the two individuals, until the flashback abruptly ends and the visual continuity is broken, while the recorded audio continues to reverberate in the silent courtroom, creating a strong sense of ambiguity. We can only deduce what happened next from the protagonist's testimony and the physical evidence collected at the scene. As viewers, although we are watching, we are not much different from the son who lacks sight. The trial seems to be built on facts, but the facts no longer exist. The lawyers on both sides fabricate their own stories, even hinting at the protagonist's novel as evidence of murder, the only purpose of which is to destroy the son's trust in his mother - and in turn, our trust in the protagonist. Once trust is shattered, it is permanent, and everything that follows is self-persuasion. In the end, the truth does not surface; only a verdict emerges.

At this point, "Falling" is clearly no longer solely about family relationships, nor is it simply about the plight of women. It delves deeper into the perennial problem of humans' inability to understand and trust each other. Trier presents to us the inherent fluctuations and vulnerability of the human spirit, perhaps echoing Irish author Colm Toibin's portrayal in his novel "The Magician": "The 'human spirit' is so comically tragic, as soon as the wind changes direction, their stories follow suit, their lives are a continuous, waning, ridiculous, seemingly credible effort." In this sense, "Falling" becomes a stark analysis of the human soul.