Review of 45 Years (2015) by Karen Sillivant D — 05 Jul 2016

The marriage of Kate and Geoff Mercer has been an idyllic one, or, at least, has been as idyllic as an everyday one can possibly be. They've been married for almost forty-five years, not out of shrugged settlement or convenience but out of staggering, overflowing, everlasting love. They're the couple you turn to when pondering what makes a marriage work. For the Mercers (who are blissfully childless), a well-maintained sex life, loving conversation, and genuine connection are all a part of the equation.

Coming up is an anniversary party, in which they'll be celebrating nearly five decades together. They would have preferred to hold one on their fortieth, but a major surgery (on the part of Geoff) kept them from elaborate festivities. So while they could easily continue living through their tranquil retired life without a hint of fuss to make their relationship mean something more, the Mercers are looking forward to putting their major achievement onto a pedestal.

But a revelation takes a toll on their plans. Just six days before the party is set to begin, Geoff receives a letter that informs him that the body of a past lover has been found in the Swiss Alps. And the news strikes a chord - Geoff was with the woman, named Katya, when she died. They were hiking through the area some five decades earlier, and she mistakenly fell through a crevasse, thus perishing and thought to be lost forever.

Katya wasn't just some lady from Geoff's past, either. Had she not tragically died, he would have married her. The news of her finding suddenly brings flashes of the life he could have lived had history not taken a turn. This leads Geoff to serious existential doubt, sending Kate into a storm of heartbreak. While she, quite possibly, knows deep down that things will make way for the better and Geoff's wondering of a different life is certainly a passing thing, the understanding that the life she currently knows might not have happened rattles her. "I think I was enough for you," she tells Geoff at the height of the conflict. "I'm just not sure you do.".

And the point of "45 Years," tenderly written and directed by Andrew Haigh, is not to italicize its dramatic discord but to pragmatically portray marriage in its most ideal state, analyzing how a seemingly Earth-shattering bombshell can affect an apparently solid relationship. No matter the level of trust and commitment in a union, always waiting in the wings is an event or an acknowledgment that can deter that supposed trust and commitment. By choosing to focus upon a couple who has spent nearly a half of a century in the other's presence, any sense of anguish is near nuclear in its effect.

The thriving of "45 Years" is a delicate tightrope walk: necessary is both the convincing portrayal of a lived-in marriage and also the tidal wave of disquiet that comes along with throwing a stick of metaphorical dynamite onto that marriage. Haigh gorgeously gives weight to the Mercers' affinity not through standalone, bombastically memorable scenes but by observing them as they interact in the same ways that they have for years. Watching them eat breakfast together, listening in on their small talk. Seeing them interact in bed, whether they be cuddling or having predictable but comfortable sex. Noticing that they talk to each other not necessarily as cinematic lovers but as soulmates that simply enjoy being in each other's company.

Haigh spends much time regarding Kate and Geoff before the Katya incident, allowing for us to occupy their shoes on separate occasions and therefore getting a better feeling of what their relationship is built on. So when things start getting messy - we can empathetically feel the drop in Kate's stomach as she dreads that maybe she hasn't been good enough for Geoff these last forty-five years - the hurt is plain and starkly heartrending. That Haigh chooses a happy ending isn't manipulative but realistic: for a couple that's seen the worst of each other for the entirety of their adult lives, it's not unlikely for reconciliation to come to light. Haunting, though, is the briefly jolting effect Katya's sudden appearance has on the healthy marriage at the center.

As Kate and Geoff, Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay, respectively, are burdened with the strenuous task of persuading us that they've been in love since 1970. They do so not through orthodox performance but through unflashy embodiment. To say that they're stupendous is an understatement - to deliver a scorching monologue is one thing, but to really and truly induce an audience into thinking that the person you're portraying is you is unthinkable. The general public tends to think that actors better at doing the former are more versatile, but Rampling and Courtenay (especially Rampling), strip down their dignified personas and become people we've never thought them to be. In "45 Years," they summarize why their respective talents have remained so infatuating throughout their decades old careers. Haigh knows how to prepare and ultimately bake the material, but Rampling and Courtenay are the ones that make the dish so exquisitely rich.

Soon after "45 Years" closes are we stricken with the scabby questioning of if the film really only is what it is. It's so natural that its low-key conclusion initially seems like a let-down. But after much mediation do we come to the epiphany that the film is an exceptional portrayal of marriage, cinematic or otherwise. This is one of the best movies of the decade.