Georges and Anne are an octogenarian couple. They are cultivated, retired music teachers. Their daughter, also a musician, lives in Britain with her family. One day, Anne has a stroke, and the couple's bond of love is severely tested.
A teacher lives a lonely life, all the while struggling over his son's custody. His life slowly gets better as he finds love and receives good news from his son, but his new luck is about to be brutally shattered by an innocent little lie.
Thomas Bo Larsen,
Adele's life is changed when she meets Emma, a young woman with blue hair, who will allow her to discover desire, to assert herself as a woman and as an adult. In front of others, Adele grows, seeks herself, loses herself and ultimately finds herself through love and loss.
A married couple are faced with a difficult decision - to improve the life of their child by moving to another country or to stay in Iran and look after a deteriorating parent who has Alzheimer's disease.
Georges and Anne are a couple of retired music teachers enjoying life in their eighties. However, Anne suddenly has a stroke at breakfast and their lives are never the same. That incident begins Anne's harrowingly steep physical and mental decline as Georges attempts to care for her at home as she wishes. Even as the fruits of their lives and career remain bright, the couple's hopes for some dignity prove a dispiriting struggle even as their daughter enters the conflict. In the end, George, with his love fighting against his own weariness and diminished future on top of Anne's, is driven to make some critical decisions for them both. Written by
Kenneth Chisholm (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Emmanuelle Riva auditioned along with many other older French actresses for the role of Anne. The scene used during the audition was the first breakfast scene when Anne has her first attack. Michael Haneke said that he found Riva most realistic and moving during that scene and cast her in the film. See more »
There's no point in going on living. That's how it is. I know it can only get worse. Why should I inflict this on us, on you and me?
You're not inflicting anything on me.
You don't have to lie, Georges.
[looks down at the floor contemplatively]
Put yourself in my place. Didn't you ever think that it could happen to me, too?
Of course I did. But imagination and reality have little in common.
But things are getting better every day.
I don't want to carry on. You're making such sweet efforts to ...
[...] See more »
Two human beings gradually abate into claustrophobic indignity
According to Robert Sternberg's triangular theory, the paragon of love is "consummate"complete, ideal, perfect. In this fashion of love, a couple delights in each other while defeating hardships with grace. Some might argue that aseptic concepts don't translate in the ebb and flow of reality; they would be right. Except Sternberg never said consummate was truly sustainable or permanent.
Amour surpasses consummate and escalates the inquiry; venturing into end-stage by showing us the bits that come before "death do us part".
When the movie begins, firemen break into a foul smelling apartment. A bedroom door, shut and sealed with layers of tape open to reveal the lifeless body of an old woman laid at rest. She was dressed in the finest, adorned with flowers. We are then introduced to main protagonists; ex-piano teachers Georges and Anne. Retired octogenarians with a long history of marriage who have settled comfortably into middle-class existence. The couple is shown attending a concert performed by one of their ex-students, and having a pleasant evening togetherthat was the last scene filmed outside their apartment.
On returning home, Georges discovers a tampered door lock. What appears to be a burglary attempt by strangers in the present, alludes to the change about to intrude at dawn.
At first consideration, Michael Haneke is an unlikely choice for stock sentimental genres. His blank, minimalistic, expressionless style of film-making; famous for detachment and cold neutrality would only aggravate the treatment of dry complex material. When one walks into a Haneken feature, expect neither theatrics nor emotions. Still shots, basic camera movements overlayed with monotonous ambient sounds only. But realistic mise en scène accentuates the intense deliberation demanded by his films (Caché, The White Ribbon). This is the principle behind those introspective pieces.
We are living in times of antipodal controversies. Pro-life campaigns against palliative medicine in the Liverpool Care Pathway saga is just one among the many that surround euthanasia debates. Rather than hanker over mission statements, Amour grazes the back door stance without overtly fixating on any specific message. And it would be perceptive to withhold from believing the central theme concerns itself with human rights because it doesn't.
This is a story about a common man and woman, what their romance is capable of enduring, and their burning departure from blessed peace. Amour makes observations behind mysterious doors; allowing you to watch as two human beings gradually abate into claustrophobic indignity. Tender, humane, poetic and heart rending.
28 of 38 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful to you?