45 Years
There is no misunderstanding. 45 Years is not a cozy, classic British drama with charming old folks as the movie has only one central couple ever filmed, childless retirees Kate and Geoff (played by the amazing Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay). They are happy in their marriage amid green fields of English countryside before an unexpected letter arrives one week prior to their wedding anniversary party.
I haven’t seen old married people rocked by marital strife in the kitchen like this since Amour. For those who appreciate acting over “Star Wars,” there is none better than watching Rampling (the woman who can kill you with her eyes) and Courtenay (the dude with soulful eyes), two leading lights of that great wave of British talent we imported from England in the sixties, create a finely tuned pas de deux.
With reference to its contents, this message reveals that something shakes their world like when Glenn Close’s stalker emerges out of water after she had drowned in a bath tub; it is fatal attraction. First off, initially this news seems rather strange yet harmless about the ice entombed body of Geoff’s teenage German lover Katya who died five decades ago plunging into a crack of glacier during a hike across Swiss Alps.
As such, filmmaker Andrew Haigh trusts his two main actors and allows them to show how all these newly enlightened moments which Kate never knew much about suddenly would affect their lives forever. Thus when anyone tries to create a gothic pattern based on any Brontë novel while trying hard for suspense through creating some sort of phantom presence like Sleeping beauty the fissures that occur within them happen slowly in small portions but are quite unnerving.
Though they do try to go back to normal life Geoff fiddles with his broken lavatory seat or reads Kierkegaard while Kate walks her dog and finishes up organizing for the party it is obvious that things have changed. He develops memory lapse and goes back to smoking since his bypass surgery five years ago which is why they have delayed marking their 40th anniversary until now. When he goes to the travel agent secretly to find out about flights for Switzerland so that he can see the body a few days beforehand, she becomes worried.
The same night when Kate and Geoff dance spontaneously to “Stagger Lee,” whirling through the living room as if on courtship, it reaches tipping point. Right away this made him want take her to bed. “I hope I remember what to do,” he says, thus implying that this is not something new and they gently intertwine. Midway through sex, during some of those movie scenes where things are just not going right there are three words that usually signal trouble: “Open your eyes.” And that’s all.
Isn’t it? She falls asleep only to be awakened by the noise of Geoff’s search in the attic among souvenirs from his times with Katya. Kate looks upset. She knows their home and his brain has been taken over by this dead forever young rival of hers. And eventually, she will be able to look through her own previous life that hangs at that very moment above them.
This is a deceptively simple story, with little dialogue and just occasional hints of what is going on none of which are cheap tricks. We see Kate looking at shop windows, contemplating briefly to buy a watch as a present for her husband but not doing so as if she understands that suddenly time means nothing for him anymore. Each mirror encounter also becomes an opportunity for introspection as hard faces reveal mental strain on the part of Kate.
The increasing distance between them underlies the background space usage. All these things add up; even some seemingly insignificant stuff like lack of photos depicting their history together or Geoff feeling more acutely than Kate how heavy mortality lies upon his diseased and aged body.
But what I liked most about Haigh was his use of golden oldies: songs chosen by Kate for playing during their party were appropriate for that period in time and yet they constituted a telling yet unobtrusive commentary on events unfolding before our eyes. I remember laughing when she explains recent erratic behavior in Geoff while driving to her friend, then abruptly shuts off the radio once Gary Puckett breaks into “Young girl get outta my mind.”
These songs come in handy especially during one probably among the best, most shattering final scenes in any film this year which I have now watched several times over the past couple months increasingly appreciating how it has such an impact on its audience at last.
Of course we want happiness again for these two and as their friends gather to celebrate their relationship staying strong over decades it gets difficult not to wish for a happy ending. Yet, any romantic partners who have picked “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” as their special song could have listened much more closely to the words.
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