Amour (2012) An example of detailed analysis

Written and directed by Michael Haneke

Primary Characters:
George and Anne Laurent: Husband and wife; former piano teachers
Eva: Their married daughter

From the critics:
Philip French in The Guardian, November 17, 2012:
“Amour will, I believe, take its place alongside the greatest films about the confrontation of ageing and death, among them Ozu’s Tokyo Story, Kurosawa’s Living, Bergman’s Wild Strawberries, Rosi’s Three Brothers and, dare I say it, Don Siegel’s The Shootist.”

Synopsis
An octogenarian couple find their love put to the ultimate test when one suffers a stroke, and the other must assume the caretaker role in this compassionate yet unsentimental drama. Two retired classical-music teachers are savoring their golden years in a comfortable apartment, when the wife, Anne, experiences a stroke that leaves her partially paralyzed. Her devoted husband, Georges, struggles with the formidable task of being Anne’s full-time caretaker. A visit from their adult daughter Eva reaffirms just how secluded from society the highly educated couple have become. The movie concludes with an ultimate, moralistic test of their caring.

Analysis
The themes in this film are simple and straight forward: love and devotion; aging, elderly debility, and dementia and their effects upon the person and his or her family; mercy killing; and death. After the opening, these themes are presented in a strictly linear, unencumbered manner.

The opening scene essentially prepares viewers for how the film will end. The film opens with the fire department breaking down the front door of an apartment. We see this from inside the apartment as if we were standing there, waiting for it to happen, and saying, It’s time you showed up for my story. The camera then follows one of the firemen around the apartment. We see him encounter a terrible smell and is forced to open the windows. Within moments, we learn it is the stench of death as another door is opened, and we see a female corpse all laid out with dying flowers spread around her.

Cut to the flashback, and the journey begins. The scene is a wide shot of a concert hall. The camera is on the stage, looking out at the audience that awaits the start of a piano recital. Typical of Haneke’s approach, nothing directs our attention to anyone in particular. One couple rises to let a man pass by to his seat, so it does not seem special. They are, however, our subject characters. As we hear the opening strains of Schubert’s Impromptu Opus No. 1, the woman closes her eyes and just listens. The music sets a tone of soothing elegance: slightly formal, but still with a lively lilt. This pattern of musical use continues throughout most of the film. It complements the image of the couple who act in a slightly formal manner, but still full of life for each other.

The couple, George and Anne Laurent, are played by French cinematic icons Emmanuelle Riva and Jean-Louis Trintignant, who are both now in their 80s. These two stars assume their roles as if they had worn them all of their lives. Another strong performance in the film is given by Isabelle Huppert, who plays their somewhat removed daughter, Eva. Never does the viewer believe they are watching actors. We are, indeed, observers, but are granted sufficient entry via the camera to be intimate observers.

When they return from the concert, George and Anne discover that someone has attempted to break into their apartment. We see our first of many indications of caring, when George calms Anne by saying, “Don’t let it spoil your good mood now.” He then, as a gentleman, helps her take her coat off. When she goes into the bedroom to change he says, “Did I tell you, you looked good tonight?”

The next morning during breakfast, Anne suffers an episode that leaves her immobile, staring straight into space. This scene has the first close-up shots of the movie. It is this scene that provides an even deeper look at George’s love and caring; not only is there shock and fear reflected in his face, but also love. He is close to tears when she does not respond to him. At the same time, his controlled, steady manner as he attempts to revive her provides the first glimpse into his strength. As he is preparing to get help, she appears to recover. They argue over whether to call a doctor, but she cannot remember anything that has happened.

We then meet their daughter, Eva. She and her father are in the living room talking about her life. There are warm, rich colors in the furniture, clothing, and lighting. The walls are covered with bookshelves and pictures. It is a cozy, warm, secure atmosphere, but also a very traditional room that conveys Anne and George’s generation. Finally, Eva asks about her mother, and we learn Anne has had an operation for a blocked artery, and it failed. More strokes can be expected, and she will get progressively worse. Some meaningful lines from both George and Eva follow. Eva asks how she can help, and George responds:

GEORGE: No, really. There’s nothing you can do. We’ll see how things go when she’s back here in the apartment. We’ll manage. Maybe I’ll get a caretaker in, or maybe I’ll manage on my own. We’ll see. We’ve been through quite a lot in our time, your mother and I.
(little laugh)
All this is still a bit new.”
PAUSE.
EVA (with a little laugh): It’s funny. I don’t know if I should say it. Maybe it’ll embarrass you. But when I came here a short while ago, I suddenly remembered how I always used to listen to the two of you making love when I was little. For me, at the time, it was reassuring. It gave me a feeling that you loved each other, and that we’d always be together.

George is talking about the closeness of their marriage, and Eva conveys how her parents love provided a sense of security. It is a little uncomfortable hearing a daughter talk about her parents’ lovemaking, but it draws the viewer into the character’s shoes.

There is a cut to sometime in the future as the apartment door opens. Again we, the viewers, are inside the apartment, greeting them as George enters followed by a paramedic who wheels Anne in a wheelchair. George is very unsettled and not sure how to act. After they settle in the living room, Anne makes George promise that he will never taker her back to the hospital. There is no discussion allowed. This is her wish, and he is to follow it.

After helping Anne into bed, George hovers over her, unsure of what else he can do to help. The bedroom has shades of yellow and a warm glow. Light comes primarily from table lamps, creating shadows. Anne is obviously worried about George and tries to reassure him that she can do things for herself. She is suppressing her fear of what is to come the best she can.

By now the director has used the placement of the camera, close-up shots, and warm lighting and colors to make the viewer feel comfortably at home and use their point of view to be an integral part of the story. One slowly realizes why the shots of people coming into the apartment are always from the inside. Some might interpret it as having the audience “share” the apartment with the characters. I do not believe that is the case. Rather, I believe the entire movie is shot from the point of view of the apartment itself. The one scene that convinces me of the latter is the last scene when Eva returns to the apartment after both of her parents are dead. The camera is still inside and follows her around as she walks through the apartment.

A scene that begins to convey the humiliation of Anne’s inability to care for herself shows George waiting outside the bathroom. She calls for him to come in, and she is seen on the toilet with her panties below her knees. He helps her stand and then pulls her panties up for her, just like one would do for a toddler. This is a medium-long shot so that the viewer is not intrusive but present. Despite George’s gentleness, it is a brutal shot for the audience. It evokes sadness, pity, and the fear that we could end up that way.

The next day, they are sitting at the kitchen table, and George tells Anne a story describing what is discussed in this book. It is about a time when he was young and went to a movie alone. Leaving the movie theater, George found himself to be very emotional, but he was fine by the time he got home. A short time later, he recounted the film to a neighbor and became even more emotional than when he was leaving the theater. What he described was that as we relax and let ourselves absorb what we have seen, the more a film will have meaning for us. However, I do not believe that is why this story was in this film. Rather, it was a way for George to describe how his emotions were playing upon him in the present without directly admitting it.

As the movie progresses and Anne’s condition deteriorates, several things happen. George looks older and older. His skin begins to wrinkle even more, then starts appearing shriveled. He begins to look nearly as gaunt as Anne, because he, too, is slowly fading. Accompanying this, the lighting of the scenes initially darkens slowly, and then it becomes brighter, but harsher and colder. The characters faces become almost devoid of color. This lighting conveys not only the changes in Anne’s condition, but what is happening in their relationship. After Anne’s death, George is found writing a letter in very dark room with only the light of a small table lamp shining on the letter.

When Anne is unable to speak, she communicates with her eyes, and George starts responding in a like manner. The audience has no trouble understanding the communication and can identify with both of them. All of this is quite effective in carrying the viewer through the time span. It helps you feel their lives slowly fading out. Interestingly, however, the lighting never becomes really cold until we see the apartment when Eva comes back to the house after her parents’ deaths.

At various times throughout the film, we see George’s embarrassment at having to talk about Anne’s condition with others. It is up to the viewer’s interpretation as to whether he is embarrassed for himself or for Anne. We get some answers much later in the film when Eva visits George again:
“…just to explain why I didn’t answer your phone calls and why I don’t want to have any pointless discussions on the subject. Your mother is just as could have been expected: bad the whole time.
She is turning more and more into a helpless child, and it’s sad and humiliating, for her and for me. And she doesn’t want to be seen in that state either. Even the last time you visited, she didn’t want you to come. You two have your own life. Nothing wrong with that. But let us have our life too. Even though it’s a lousy one. OK?
We do our speech exercises every day, or we sing together. Most of the time, I wake up around 5. At that time, she’s still awake. Then we change her incontinence pad. I rub cream on her to avoid sores. Then, around 7, I try to persuade her to eat and drink. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. Sometimes she tells me things from her childhood, then for hours she calls for help, and then an instant later she’s giggling away to herself, or crying. Nothing of any of that deserves to be shown.”

And it is not shown in the film.

In the process of caring for Anne, George has blocked Eva out. He won’t answer her calls or return them when she leaves a message. He tells Eva, almost angrily, “Your concern is of no use to me. I don’t have time to deal with your concern, that’s all.” We see the pain and disappointment on Eva’s face and begin to feel the emotion of isolation. During that last soliloquy, the camera focuses on Eva’s face, and we see her begin to realize just how bad things are and what is coming. She looks worn and sad.

As the film progresses, George is being forced to watch the person he has loved and lived with for over fifty years lose not only her physical and mental capabilities, but her very existence, her identity. Their love is slowly being dismantled along with his life. He does not want to see Anne this way, and he does not want to remember her this way, and his anger grows. The beginning of this attitude is seen at one point about half way through the movie: Anne has regressed to where she is now rambling incoherently and requiring a lot more physical assistance, and we are shown a scene that starts with Anne playing the piano. She looks elegant and beautiful. The camera pans to George watching her, and then he turns and forcefully stops the CD player. He is already trying to remember her as she once was.

One day George comes home to find Anne on the floor and all the lights out. She has not been able to get back into her wheelchair. Once he gets her into bed, she tells him there is no sense to keep going, no reason to inflict herself upon him. “I do not want to go on,” she says, and it is left to the audience to decide if Anne is talking about committing suicide, assisted suicide, or something else.

A little later in the movie though, Anne and George are sitting at the dinner table and she insists on seeing their photo albums immediately. As she goes through them, she comments on how beautiful life is—and so long. George stares at her with a worried look on his face. She tells him to stop staring and, “I’m not that stupid, yet.” Later in the film, Anne has deteriorated even more. She has to be spoon-fed soft food, drinks out of a toddler bottle, and one time soils herself in bed. The scene shows her unable to talk, and George tries to give her water that she does not want it. He says, “If you don’t drink, you’ll die. Do you want that?” The look she gives him clearly says, “Obviously, fool”  But George keeps trying to force her and threatens to take her back to the hospital. The anger in her face is very clear. She spits out the water, too weak to spit on George. He slaps her. The camera goes back and forth on each of their faces as they both realize how bad things have gotten. Neither can look at the other. The silence is very emotional for the viewer. Then the director uses a strange cut to a series of paintings, none of which seem to have any relationship to what has just occurred in the film.

Haneke’s style of not filling in explanations for the audience is, while intellectually challenging, also extremely frustrating. Often there is little background or in the mise-en-scène to guide us. In a post screening discussion at the film’s debut, the director was asked if the paintings meant anything specific or if it was simply open to the audience’s interpretation.

Haneke answered: “It’s open to interpretation. All the things you mentioned—not just the paintings but also the pigeons, for example, and any number of other elements—are open to interpretation. In fact, that’s why they’re in the film to confront the audience, to invite the audience to think about these questions. For that reason, it would be counterproductive if I were to impose a specific, rigid, single meaning on those elements. If I tell the audience what they should think, then I am robbing them of their own imagination and their own capacity of deciding what’s important to them. That scene was one of the emotional climaxes of the film, and that’s why it’s followed by the shots of the paintings, because it would have been impossible to follow simply with a continuation of the story.”

Late in the film, George is in the bathroom brushing his teeth when the doorbell rings. He opens it but finds nobody there. He then goes exploring down the hallways of the building until he stops and notices that he is standing in several inches of water over his ankles. As he begins to panic, a hand suddenly shoots out from behind his head and covers his mouth. We hear him scream, and there is a cut to show George in bed awakening from his nightmare. There is never any discussion of this dream nor is any other insight inferentially provided. The audience is left to wade through on their own.

After George has killed Anne, we see him struggle to get up from a couch in another room. He goes to the kitchen where Anne is washing the dishes, and she tells him she is almost done so he can put his shoes on if he wants. He helps her with her coat and starts to leave with her. She tells him to get a coat. He does and they walk out of the apartment together. We never learn what happens to George. The next scene shows Eva returning to an empty apartment. Certainly the scenes can be interpreted as George joining Anne in death—but was his a natural death or suicide?

The scene when Eva returns to the apartment, as usual finds the camera inside as she opens the door. Now the director is using long shots of the rooms. We are not intimate with Eva like we were with her parents. She walks around slowly looking at various things and sits down in the living room. Haneke wants the audience to decide if she is trying to contemplate what happened or if she is remembering the loving life she knows occurred in that place.