45 Years
(2015)
(SPOILERS) If
you have the patience to go along with its unhurried, semi-slumbering pace, 45 Years may well creep up on you
unawares. Writer-director Andrew Haigh nurtures the same seeds of doubt in the viewer’s
mind that grow in Kate Mercer’s (Charlotte Rampling), as her inability to
reconcile revelations concerning her husband Geoff (Tom Courtenay) leads to the
unravelling of what appeared to be a very solid, very comfortable, very average
marriage.
The trigger
is news that the body of Katya, Geoff’s girlfriend prior to meeting Kate, has
been found in a melting glacier. Geoff becomes preoccupied with reminiscences
of decades past and Kate is initially understanding of the situation, albeit
jealous of the space this former lover held in her husband’s heart. But when
Geoff admits he would have married her, starts looking into travelling to
Switzerland to see the body, spends time in the attic going through old
pictures, begins smoking again and drinking too much, the burden becomes too
much and Kate instructs him not to talk about Katya any more.
There’s
something of the Michael Haneke about Haigh’s film, with its spectre of
intangible secrets the viewer – like our protagonist – cannot grasp with any
certainty. Initially, the underplayed narrative passes almost unnoticed, a
non-descript depiction of a retired couple living unexceptionally in rural
Norfolk; you wouldn’t be blamed for nodding off along with Geoff. But Kate’s
increasing disturbance of mind gradually takes hold, and so Haigh cloaks the
picture with an increasingly uneasy atmosphere, as the unrelinquished past encroaches
on the present.
It’s thus
understandable that some have read more into Geoff’s exhumed history than is
intended, namely that he may have murdered Katya, jealous of her flirtation
with their German guide, and dumped her in a crevasse (so explaining his
nervousness about the glacier melting and eagerness to take a look, lest
evidence of his crime be discovered). I don’t think this is the case; rather,
it’s evidence that, once the floodgates are opened, and deception preys on the
mind, anything seems possible. It’s clear that Geoff has lied to Kate when she
views the pictures of the trip on a slide projector; she isn’t wearing the
wooden ring he talked about (as a pretence of marriage in a less tolerant
time), and most damningly, one photo evidences that Katya was pregnant.
It’s this,
rather than any more culpable acts, that is the turning point for Kate; the
underpinning of their decision not to have children comes into question, and
with it everything she assumed to be real between them. In tandem, Haigh infuses
an almost gothic undercurrent. Kate is haunted by Katya’s presence, smelling
her perfume, and, as she stands beneath the open attic during a nocturnal
wander, the door behind her closes apparently of its own accord.
But, even
come their anniversary party (they didn’t have a fortieth due to Geoff’s bypass
surgery), it isn’t wholly clear how affected she is. It’s only during the
celebrations, as Geoff gives a speech (in which he breaks down, which he never
does; earlier, Geraldine James has expressed the view that men always do on
such occasions, “I think they just see
the world differently to us”, but Kate notes he didn’t cry at their
wedding), thanking her for putting up with all his nonsense, that her feelings
become evident. Finally, during their dance, to Smoke Gets in Your Eyes, she pulls away from her husband when he
holds her hand in the air; something has been irretrievably broken.
Rampling
wholly deserves her Oscar nomination, probably her highest profile role since
she embarked on an affair with a man in a chimp suit in Max, Mon Amour, navigating Kate’s inner conflict with subtlety and
nuance. Courtney deserves great praise too, albeit his slightly incoherent,
introverted partner is necessarily less readable. It’s Haigh, though, who is
the real star of the show, gauging the picture expertly and precisely, leaving
the viewer ruminating on events long after the credits have rolled.
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