Language in The Anatomy of a Fall
In Anatomy of a Fall (2023), co-writer and director Justine Triet invites her audience to participate in a murder trial. In tandem with members of the courtroom, we evaluate Sandra’s role in her husband Samuel’s fatal fall.
Evidence includes: inconclusive crime scene reconstructions; Samuel’s audio recording of his and Sandra’s fight; and the testimony of their blind son, Daniel. The primacy of aural over visual evidence renders language and sound central to an analysis of Sandra and Anatomy of a Fall.
The film commences with an interview between Sandra and a graduate student, and we learn that Sandra is a writer who (like all writers) uses language to influence and manipulate. The music playing throughout the interview— 50 Cent’s “P.I.M.P.”— conjures various interpretations: according to one, the song rudely dispossesses Sandra of her words and embarrasses her with its vulgar lyrics; according to another, the song highlights Sandra’s forwardness (she seemingly flirts with the interviewer); according to the prosecution, Samuel aggressively blasts the song to rebel against this extramarital flirtation. In any case, the film’s first scene eerily establishes language and sound as tools for control or resistance.
During the fight that he recorded, Samuel accuses Sandra of wielding language to oppress: “You even impose your language…. Daniel has to speak a language that has nothing to do with his life just because we’re on your turf.” Samuel's diction (“impose,” “turf”) associates language with territory and power; he effectively likens Sandra to an imperial tyrant.
His death reverses this alleged power dynamic: the French state takes over Sandra’s home and its language (English). French-speaking investigators take measurements, interview Daniel, and role-play as Samuel and Sandra. When Sandra refuses to participate in a re-enactment that she deems unrealistic, a French woman automatically steps in to recite Sandra’s lines. A court-appointed social worker moves into the home and prohibits Sandra from speaking English with Daniel.
The courtroom further erodes Sandra’s English and authority. TV screens display a translated version of the couple’s recorded fight. The prosecution reads from a marked-up and translated copy of Sandra’s novel; in the background, she appears blurred, dejected, and diminished. A translator uses a microphone to communicate Sandra’s English responses and testimonies, but the jury sometimes dons their headphones too late.
Given that translation risks obfuscation (and highlights Sandra’s alienness), it is perplexing that she opts for English throughout the trial— especially considering her French fluency. She claims that “it’s too complicated” to respond in French, though her English responses are basic and straightforward. Perhaps Derrida’s reflections in Monolingualism of the Other: Or, The Prosthesis of Origin shed light on this puzzle. He writes: “My monolingualism dwells, and I call it my dwelling; it feels like one to me, and I remain in it and inhabit it. It inhabits me.… It constitutes me, it dictates even the ipseity of all things to me” (page 1, trans. Patrick Mensah). We might now understand Sandra’s use of English as an attempt to preserve her threatened selfhood, or “dwelling.” And considering that English dictated the emotional events and dynamics that Sandra retells, it indeed seems “complicated” to translate these on the spot.
Then again, Sandra’s first language is actually German; as she says, English is “in the middle” of German and French. Sandra never speaks German (nor proves her innocence), and thus remains “in the middle” through the film’s conclusion. Once more, language masks Sandra and adds to her mystery. Sounds mystify and mask, too: we cannot attribute the violent noises on Samuel’s recording to him or Sandra, and thanks to “P.I.M.P.,” Daniel cannot comprehend his parents’ conversation on the day of the crime.
This technique—of using language, sound, and silence to sow uncertainty and suspense—is common in thriller movies. Yet Anatomy of a Fall ventures further, exploring what people do with that uncertainty and suspense, and how they do it. Most blatantly, the prosecution manipulates language and plays on stereotypes to paint Sandra as the ruthless, philandering, career-crazed, murderer; likewise, the defense spins Samuel as depressed, suicidal, and jealous of Sandra. But with references to journalistic coverage, propaganda, fiction writing, and filmmaking sprinkled throughout the movie, Triet constantly prompts us to consider the art of storytelling.
Ultimately, we ask: how to discern truth from narrative spin? Triet’s answer: we can’t. Via Daniel’s social worker, Triet instructs us to simply choose whichever story we prefer, masterfully forcing us to confront our own prejudice and impressionability.