45 Years
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45 Years

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If you’re thinking of not seeing 45 Years because it looks like Oscar-bait, don’t do yourself the disservice. With its wonderfully accented, BBC veteran cast, it would be easy to assume: but you would be wildly wrong. 45 Years looks at the relationship between Kate (Charlotte Rampling) and Geoff (Tom Courtenay) in the week leading up to their 45th wedding anniversary celebrations. At the start of the week, Geoff receives news that the body of his ex-girlfriend, Katya, has been found perfectly preserved in the Swiss Alps where she died 50 years previously.

While the above might sound like the set-up for a film where Tom Courtenay battles arthritis to dominate a snowy Alp and gain closure, 45 Years is nothing of the sort. In fact, almost all of the drama of the film takes place upon Charlotte Rampling’s face, and in her body language. The breadth of emotion Rampling exudes in even the most innocuous of actions is astonishing; it’s almost as if her anxieties and frustrations are broadcast telepathically to the audience, who gain a front-row seat to the nuances of what she is experiencing.

Acknowledging that it would be ridiculous to be upset at her husband about something that happened before they even met, Kate struggles to reconcile the former with the unshakeable feeling that something is not quite kosher in all of this. Geoff, on the other hand, is too preoccupied by the news of his perfectly preserved ex-girlfriend, which prompts some kind of paralysing later-life crisis as he grapples with the limits of his body – Courtenay plays his role quietly, and with brilliant subtlety.

Director and co-writer Andrew Haigh (who also delivered the superb Weekend in 2011) has assembled the emotional jigsaw of a rock-solid marriage rocked to its core. The history and sentiment between the couple feels so real; and the narrative of the film is anything but predictable. Unsatisfied with an easy plot, 45 Years is an emotional journey that pulls no punches; the final scene is especially true of this, and will leave you reeling for days to come. At the very least, you won’t be able to hear Smoke Gets In Your Eyes by The Platters ever again without tears pricking your eyes.

BY ALI SCHNABEL