Utterly sad and hauntingly disturbing, Amour challenges and provokes. On the surface, perhaps less so than Michael Haneke’s previous output (Cache, White Ribbon, Funny Games). However, when the subject matter is no less than the degeneration that can occur before the end of life, manipulations, however subtle and ostensibly humane, take on a weight all the more terrifyingly remorseless. The scale of Amour‘s subject matter provides the harshest of contexts. The couple’s unsentimental pain and suffering, depicted in as real a manner as can be imagined, can take on a disquieting tone when a lifelong provocateur like Haneke seems to be substituting ravaging, uncompromising realism at the expense of more benign insights, let alone empathy or compassion. Yet, facing the question of death, are we merely intensifying that lifelong tendency to blame the messenger? After all, what we ultimately have in Amour is a Rorschach blot that allows for introspection on this most important of issues. After experiencing the day-by-day grim deterioration of Anne (Emmanuelle Riva) and the sacrifices and frustrations of her husband Georges (Jean-Louis Trintignant) I was left with a numbness that felt something like the immediate aftereffects of a car accident: I could think of little else than the overwhelming immediacy of what I’d just expetienced yet at the same time I was glad to be alive. Life took on a new glow.
A bit of context regarding Riva and Trintignant. They’re icons of the French cinema. For anyone familiar with them, their presence adds a poignant immediacy of identification that may be lost on many American audiences. They’re not just any two actors going through this ordeal but ones their fans can recall from more youthful and vibrant days. And what performances! Along with an excellent Isabelle Hupert as their preoccupied daughter, they form an ensemble cast that must be seen to be believed. As must this film, despite what reservations you may have about it being no walk in the park. Put aside any fear of the starkness you’re about to witness. You may just find it life-affirming. You will no doubt be changed. Great art has a way of doing that.
4 1/2 Elegiac Brutalities (out of 5)