5 reasons why ‘Amour’ is the most frightening film of the year

Much ink has been spilled about Amour since Thursday’s Oscar announcement. If you haven’t read our review, this 2012 Palme d'Or winner tells the story of a sophisticated couple of retired music teachers who are suddenly left to stare death down after the magnetic Anne (Emmanuelle Riva) suffers a debilitating stroke and her husband Georges (Jean-Louis Trintignant) becomes her unconditional caretaker. It may well be Austrian auteur Michael Haneke’s most accessible film, but it’s still as frightening as can be.

But over the past week, many have described the film as “not for everyone” or “for art-house crowds”. Screw that. Those comments alone alienate a huge chunk of viewers who would otherwise love Amour. It’s one of the most brutally honest renderings of old age that’s ever been put to screen. For those “mainstream” audiences in need of a little prodding to get their bums into theatres, I'd describe Amour as a frightening movie experience – one that’ll scar you in ways that Texas Chainsaw 3D or Paranormal Activity could only dream of.

But instead of chainsaw-wielding maniacs or an impending zombie apocalypse, Amour merely chronicles two mortals inching closer to the finish line in painstaking detail. The experience is a brutal one, and you’ll leave the room with a renewed desire to enjoy the heck out of life. Still think it’s for “enlightened audiences only”? Here are 5 things about Haneke’s latest that’ll send shivers down your still youthful spine.

Emmanuelle Riva in Amour

1.
The claustrophobic mood Haneke builds
Those expecting Haneke to tackle weighty subject matter such as deep-rooted class divides (Caché), societal violence (Funny Games), terrorism (The White Ribbon) or sexual obsession (The Piano Teacher) are in for a shocker. But while Amour might not spark as many dinner-table intellectual debates, it’s no less of an unflinching piece of work. Once Anne suffers her stroke, we never again leave the confines of the couple’s Paris apartment, with Haneke holding us hostage to witness every excruciating detail of her downfall. This, coupled with the director’s fondness for long takes and emotional sobriety, amounts to cinematic torture. 

2.
The disintegration of Anne – both physical and psychological
A refined woman fond of discussing Harnoncourt and Schubert suddenly becomes helpless, with her doting husband left to spoon-feed her pureed meals. This is excruciating for all concerned parties. At first, Anne implores everyone not to speak of “it”. Her recurring question becomes: “On peut parler d’autre chose maintenant?” ("Can we talk of something else now?") whenever guests pop in to offer their best grief-stricken look. The feeling of utter helplessness and inevitability viewers get from watching Georges change her diapers and sing her nursery rhymes is chilling… Mostly because it brings to the fore our own repressed fears about growing old and dying.

3.
The pacing of the film, not unlike the couple’s every move, is nail-bitingly slow
If you’ve read just a tiny bit about the film beforehand, your mind begins to wonder: what will happen now? Why is Haneke lingering on that shot of her reading a book in bed? Will Georges drop Anne as he carries her from bed to wheelchair? Haneke is a master at depicting characters’ monotonous grind, but in this case, it also keeps you on the edge of your seat.

4.
Riva and Trintignant’s riveting performances make us forget we’re watching seasoned actors
 
Riva in Hiroshima mon amour (1959), Trintignant in Le coeur battant (1961)

The 85-year-old iconic French actress (whom every film student worth his salt fondly remembers from the New Wave classic Hiroshima mon amour) and her 82-year-old-counterpart Trintignant (A Man and a Woman, The Conformist) put most working actors to shame here. It feels as though we are glimpsing into the very private final stretch of a couple. It’s heartbreaking, with Anne’s occasional moments of lucidity tricking us into thinking we can be optimistic for what’s to come.

5.
Outside threats to the Georges/Anne dynamic will make you furious
The incompetent nurse who hurts a helpless Anne as she brushes her hair carelessly. The jet-setting daughter (Isabelle Huppert) who tells her dad condescendingly that “they should talk about things seriously” – meaning that they send Anne to a nursing home. We feel every intrusion into their apartment dynamic as a threat, just as Georges does. No one else is around to respond to Anne's nagging, nearly unbearable cries of “maaaaal”, so who are they to know what's best? Food for thought that’s both frightening and powerful.

Amour | Now in theatres | artificial-eye.com/amour