Oscar-down #9: Amour

   So, we're now right in the middle of Oscar season, the time every year when film fans argue incessantly about which pictures 'deserve' to win, tear apart any movie they don't like, and bitch about all the films the Academy ignored altogether, all while the rest of the world tries to remember if they've even heard of half of them. This year I managed once again to see all of the Best Picture nominees and right off the bat the competition is leagues better than last year's (whose field was so weak, Moneyball was in my top three). 2012's contenders are varied, comprehensible (no Malick), all enjoyable to at least some extent, and several surprising nomination choices have made this Oscar season widely competitive for once.

   Anyway, I have some thoughts about these films. And since this is the internet, there is only one proper way to share them: list form!

   For the next few days I'll be ranking the nine Best picture nominees based on how much I liked them. Just to be clear: this isn't meant to celebrate the "best" movie. Though I appreciate well-made films, ultimately this order is about how much I enjoyed the movies; more of a gut thing than a full critical analysis.

   Anyway, let's start of with film #9...

#9: Amour

   Amour is a film about love, death, and how us humans struggle to cope with both of these things. Emmanuelle Riva and Jean-Louis Trintignant play Anne and Georges, a retired elderly couple living on their own in a Parisian apartment. After Anne suffers a stroke that paralyzes half of her body, her and Georges are forced to deal with her new and worsening medical condition as both struggle with the lengths to which they would go for love.


Why this should be higher on the list:
   Amour is brutally effective at depicting the haunting aura of helplessness and despair that hangs over Georges and Anne. With the exception of one brief early scene, the film never leaves the couple's small apartment, making effective use of space while playing up the pair's isolation. Director Michael Haneke shoots the movie primarily in long static shots; the length of each take and lack of stylistic flourishes does wonders to emphasize the roteness of Anne and Georges' routines and plays up how the new nightmare their life is slowly becoming could go on without end.

   The film is also anchored by two powerful performances by Riva and Trintignant. There is a solemn restraint to both of their roles, and yet a sense of deep abiding love within both of them shines through. Amour is a raw film experience and the actors' chemistry and vulnerability are precisely what make the viewer care, and ultimately hurt, so much.

Why It Isn't:
   Even as the minimalist direction of Amour lets the beautiful pain of the story work unimpeded, it often works against the film's sense of pacing. Shots and scenes become too drawn-out, sometimes hammering subtext into the audience's head and while at other points letting sequences run so long that the mind begins to wander.

Over 4 1/2 minutes are spent chasing this pigeon. Across two separate scenes.

   But ultimately, the reason Amour is my least favorite of this year's nominees is actually a point in it's favor: it is a heavy, heavy film. While the film is undoubtedly effective and painfully honest, it can be difficult to get through and even harder to love. If anything the film is too real: while many tragic stories can still leave the audience uplifted, the ease at which one can see this scenario play out in their own lives or those of their loved ones made me leave the theater feeling utterly forlorn. This is not a knock on the film in any way: part of its intent is to shine an unflinching eye on how a stroke can tear lives apart. But if the film is successful at its goal, that does not make it enjoyable. Amour is brutal, Amour is beautiful, and I will likely never watch it again.