I can’t remember seeing a film that moved me so profoundly or worked for me so perfectly as 45 Years since…well…since a few weeks ago when I saw Mustang, but both are exceptional movies despite the short time between my experience of them.

Both of them also speak to my predilection for intimate dramas that reveal the interiority of characters and unfold in realistic episodes, what I like to think of as non-traditional (feminine rather than Aristotelian) narrative structures encased in a style that feels artless but actually reflects a series of conscious choices and understated but evocative craft.

45 Years

Charlotte Rampling (Oscar nominee) and Tom Courtenay are sublime as a married couple meeting a challenge to the relationship during the week leading up to their 45th wedding anniversary.

I won’t reveal the particulars of the plot because to do so is to spoil the experience of seeing the film, but the ending shot, for the record, rivals the end of Chaplin’s masterwork City Lights in capturing a range of emotions Rampling’s character experiences reliving her married life and coming to realize a new truth in its meaning.



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