Last month, Jennifer Crumbley, the mother of the gunman in Michigan's deadliest school shooting, was found guilty of manslaughter. Among other things, she and her husband gifted their son the pistol that was used in the shooting, allegedly ignored his mental health red flags, and were found otherwise involuntarily responsible for the massacre. According to coverage of the trial, the family's defense lawyer "argued during the trial that parenting could be a messy and unpredictable job, and that no mother could be perfect." She stressed that the case was "a very dangerous one for parents."

That sentiment stuck with me for the gripping two-and-a-half-hour runtime of French legal drama and Best Picture nominee Anatomy of a Fall, as the inherently undiscernible and uncertain dynamics between mother and son, and wife and (dead) husband, are put on the stand in a challenging murder case.

Director Justine Triet opens the film with an odd, somewhat flirty interview between Sandra, a German novelist, and a younger student who admires her work. They're almost immediately interrupted by a comically loud and annoying steelpan rendition of 50 Cent's "P.I.M.P." being played upstairs by Sandra's husband, Samuel. The interview comes to an awkward and premature close, the student leaves, Sandra's son goes outside for a walk, and the next thing we know, Samuel is lying dead in the snow in a pool of his own blood. 

Of course, Sandra is immediately the prime suspect. She seeks the help of an old friend, Vincent, who as a lawyer advises her that a jury will never believe that the death was an accidental fall. Sandra counters that in fact, Samuel was suicidal, and she believes that he killed himself based on some events and conversations they had six months prior and, unfortunately, never disclosed to anyone else. The eyebrow-raising nature of these assertions, plus their son Daniel's conflicting testimony in large part thanks to the fact that he's blind, results in Sandra being indicted. 

The film fast-forwards a year to the beginning of the trial and things really heat up. Highly contentious, beautifully-scripted wars of words flurry in the courtroom between the flamboyant government prosecutor, the conservative defense team, the skeptical judge, the worn-down Sandra, and poor Daniel in the audience the whole time getting a front-row perspective to his parents' conflicts, possible infidelity, and deepest fears and insecurities. Daniel's centrality to the case ebbs and flows, but his relationship with his parents and his own youthful perspective are ultimately a powerful force to the simultaneously bold yet murky conclusion. 

Throughout the film's twisting 150 minutes, Triet makes a powerful case for her well-deserved Best Director nod. Her singular vision is emphatically clear in each scene, and she skillfully employs settings and contexts to keep the picture as exciting as its script, particularly playing with ways to represent truth versus fiction. Audio recordings are cleverly reenacted; characters' flashbacks are thoughtfully narrated; lawyers' and policemen's examinations of the scene of the crime span many different strategies. 

Moreover, Triet's script, co-written with Arthur Harari, is genius, creating a plot in which every scene is open to interpretation by both the characters themselves and the audience watching. The reenacted audio recording, for example — which could have been open-and-shut evidence in less deft hands — actually creates more questions than it answers. Anatomy of a Fall also avoids the classic movie magic trouble of courtroom mysteries in which they force an increased suspension of disbelief as the trial goes on. ("There's no way that a piece of evidence that significant wouldn't come up until the last day!", I have often complained at the screen.) In this script, though, when these moments occur (such as in the final testimony), they feed into the central theme of chosen truths versus actual reality. What really happened leading up to the fall is unknowable, so the convenience of various discoveries (like Samuel's pills) feels like a meditation on the message rather than Hollywood deus ex machina.

The script is brought to vivid life by a tremendous cast. At the center of it is Sandra Hüller in a beguiling performance as the (funnily same-named) main character. In handling the complex, uncertain crime itself, and the even greater uncertainty around the trial's outcome, Hüller toes the line as a possible villain playing stupid or a victim disbelieving her own misfortune. Her energy brilliantly differs so much scene-to-scene it evokes Willem Dafoe's legendary three different ways of playing the detective in American Psycho. Importantly, Hüller's emotive talent extends across three different languages, as a German who speaks English but lives in France, and the linguistic lens adds a further layer of mystique to the central case and her possible guilt. Not being able to speak English around the social worker, or being forced to live-translate in her own trial, complicates Sandra's innocence as much as the facts of the trial itself. 

Beyond Hüller, strong supporting performances also come from Swann Arlaud as the dedicated and just-flirty-enough defense attorney; Antoine Reinartz as the theatrical and biting prosecutor; Samuel Theis in one fantastic, memorable scene as the deceased husband; Jehnny Beth as a court-appointed guardian who delivers one of the most important lines of the entire movie; and, perhaps most critically, 15-year-old Milo Machado-Graner in a total star-making role as the literal embodiment of Blind Justice. 

Ultimately, the questions Anatomy of a Fall raises about truth, fairness, and culpability are ones that will stick with you for weeks after a watch.

This review also appeared in The Tech on March 21, 2024 (Volume 144, Issue 4).