1
hr & 35 min, color, 2015
Much
can be conveyed in movie terms despite a minimum of dialogue! Silence for a stretch between players can
speak volumes, assuming the facial expressions and body language are vividly
portrayed by an astute photographer and a skillful lighting designer. Human countenances can tell stories if shot
in appropriate close-up and imbued with the seasoned talents of choice cast
members. We in the twenty-first century
have become so speed oriented in our motion pictures, so hyped on flashy scenes
and mouthfuls of words and movements and explosive collisions of people and
objects that I sometimes think perhaps we have lost much of our capacity to
enjoy low keyed fare.
“45
Years” is the kind of deceptively simple storytelling that reminds me of much
of art theater film product that prevailed during the 1950s and 1960s. The British production revolves around a
retired married couple, Kate and Geoff, who undergo a quiet, subtle sea change
in the weight and substance of their almost five decades of matrimony, incited
by the uncovering of a secret heretofore buried amidst moldy memorabilia.
I
do not know how many of you if any remember a British actress of that period by
the name of Charlotte Rampling. It has
been a good half century since I had the chance to see her at work; she is what
I consider the star of this film, with strong support from Tom Courtenay, whom
some of you may remember from a movie of a few years back which I reviewed,
“Quartet”. (He is the tenor of the bunch
drawn back into a romance with a soprano to whom he was once married and who
treated him most horribly.) I took great
pleasure in watching Charlotte and Tom fill these two splendid roles, two
distinguished veterans at work.
A
mere five days before they are to attend a party celebration of their
forty-fifth anniversary conducted by friends and acquaintances, Geoff gets a
letter from Switzerland informing him that the remains of his old German flame
Katya, with whom he scaled the heights in the Swiss Alps fifty years ago and
who fell to her death into a glacier on one of their treks, have been found,
preserved in ice as she was seen at the time of the disaster. Geoff appears at first to be only minimally
concerned about the news, but over the following days and hours he begins to
evidence short fits of restlessness and irritability not in character for
him. He even resorts to smoking again,
something they have both quit doing long before. He tries to enliven their English countryside
dwelling by drawing Kate into a lightweight dance in their living room and
afterward urging her to go to bed with him and make love, things they are not
apparently in the habit of doing. But
the attempt yields quite disappointing results.
It seems quite fake in retrospect, an act of quiet desperation on the
husband’s part to stabilize a marriage that probably he too fears may have
suffered a mortal wound. Then during the
wee hours of the night she finds him thrashing around in their attic in search
of pictures of Katya. Visiting the attic
at such an hour is also something that Geoff is not accustomed to doing.
Kate
begins to observe that he is fixated upon the woman; she begins to feel
threatened and a mite insecure, not to mention worried. All this behavior on Geoff’s part is seen
through her eyes, from her point of view.
We are reminded that what is not spoken can speak as disturbingly as
what comes off the tongue, sometimes much more injuriously, and what one is
then forced to say when pressed for the unspoken message can sound fatuous and
counterfeit.
The
way Kate finds out just how important the young German woman was/is to her
husband I will leave for the viewer to discover. What she learns without his knowledge is like
a knife in her ribs, and what she decides to do about it involves as much
secrecy as Geoff has practiced over the years on her.
The
pace of the film is quite slow – slow but sensitive and studied. The imagery of the sprawling countryside
seems to reinforce the aura of distance and solitude that enshrouds them. Life in their immediate environment is itself
slow, measured and deliberate in habit and form; “the rush of days” is unknown
to them. But the space between them is
never dead; their minds are active, their spirits alive and as fertile as the
ground on which they reside. They never
quite reach the point of quarrelsome exchange, though anger at moments simmers
beneath the surface of things and in one important instance clears the air of
indecision about what the next move should be.
We
learn that five years before, when the fortieth anniversary was to have been
observed, Geoff had bypass heart surgery, which explains why they are
celebrating the forty-fifth instead. The
two of them are somewhat decrepit, and in one quite honest disclosure Geoff
comments: “The worst part of decrepitness is losing the purpose of things to be
done”. And in another conversation it is
Kate who seems to reinforce that homemade maxim by remarking: “Funny how you
forget the things in life that [once] made you happy”. This reflection impels her forthwith to
unearth some old piano music she once practiced and have a go at it. What we hear coming off the keyboard sounds
decent enough at her age to suggest that she has neglected a musical talent
that once must have impressed family and friends. It seems significant that she plays all by
herself, when Geoff is not home. The
music appears in the context of the story to be her means of reassuring her
heart and mind in the midst of her shattering discovery about Geoff and the
woman he once loved and may still.
There
are two things that puzzle me about the scenario, as sensitive and well
portrayed as it is. It is obvious that
they have never had children, but we are never given any suggestion as to
why. Or did Katya have something to do
with that too? We are also not informed
about their chosen livelihoods before retirement. I suppose that they were both professional
people and that their careers may have made having a family close to
impossible. Maybe!
They
do make it to the party, an apparently pleasant affair, with some laughter and
some fond remembrances. But
Writer/Director Andrew Haigh, who has based his work on a story entitled “In
Another Country” by David Constantine, shoots the scene in a most ingenious
manner. As is the custom in western
society the bride and groom are the first to take to the floor to dance, and he
has his camera stay with them all through the singing of their chosen ballad, right
up to the second the song concludes, using a very slow zoom shot that draws
Kate’s face into gradual close-up, the other dancers including Geoff fading
from sight. What happens in a split
second after the music ceases and just before the movie ends underscores again
how strong the body and face without accompanying words can speak.
How
does the crisis get resolved, or does it?
The tale signifies with great care the manner in which unwritten
bargains and contracts become established between the parties to a marriage and
point the way to an uncertain future.
Viewers under fifty may be at a loss as to how to relate to the film,
but older adults should connect with it, especially those who have tied the
marital knot and have many years with their spouses behind them.
To read other entries in my
blog, please consult its website:
enspiritus.blogspot.com. To learn about me consult on the website the
blog entry for August 9, 2013.
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