Now Playing: Amour

I have to admit, I'm wicked late in writing this review.  I'm not really sure where time keeps disappearing, but that's another (probably remaining unwritten) post.  Last weekend, we took in two more Oscar movies.

First: Amour, with Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva.

What is there really to say?  The movie is slow and wilful, confined mostly to the same apartment that reminds me of a professor's office.  The plot is deliberate and the acting extraordinary.  The film leaves no doubt as to how it will end - you don't really nurture a hope for a happy ending, because such an ending would seem disproportionately unrealistic.  There's no grand score that swells and dips as a cue for the audience to be glad or mad or sad.  And since it is a foreign film - so very French - there isn't even the words to guide you.  Not to worry: Georges and Anne take you by the hand and lead the way.

It felt so very stark and stripped down, in all the good ways.  Isabelle Huppert's Eva, the daughter separated by the Channel and obligations, was the real gauge for emotion.  Her eviscerating helplessness and (in many ways unwanted) compassion, was quite touching.  (I may have been making it personal, one eldest daughter to another).  The film is incredibly depressing, no way around that; it is also funny, beautiful, and delicate.  Can a foreign film win Best Picture?  This one could.  4.5 out of 5 stars.