Margaret Morganroth
Gullette (pictured) is Resident Scholar of the Women's Studies Research Center,
Brandeis University and author of ‘Agewise:
Fighting the New Ageism in America’.
She has just
written a brilliant
review of the award winning film ‘Amour’
for the Guardian Film blog which is well
worth reading.
Amour (literally, ‘Love’) is a 2012 French-language
film written and directed by Michael Haneke which won the Palme d’Or (top prize) at the 2012 Cannes Film Festival
and is now screening in Britain.
The narrative focuses on an elderly couple, Anne and Georges, retired music teachers with a daughter living abroad. Anne suffers a turn, from which she recovers and is then found to have a blocked carotid artery, but the surgery goes wrong leaving her partially paralysed and confined to a wheelchair.
She makes Georges promise not to send her back to the hospital or go into a nursing home but suffers a further stroke and her condition worsens.
Georges continues to look after Anne, despite the strain it puts on him to do so, until one day he grabs the pillow on the bed and smothers her with it.
The narrative is powerful in portraying the deep bond between the characters and understandably evokes a huge amount of sympathy for them. This naturally leads the viewer to be drawn to see Georges’ ending of his wife’s life as an act of love and compassion rather than one of desperation.
The narrative focuses on an elderly couple, Anne and Georges, retired music teachers with a daughter living abroad. Anne suffers a turn, from which she recovers and is then found to have a blocked carotid artery, but the surgery goes wrong leaving her partially paralysed and confined to a wheelchair.
She makes Georges promise not to send her back to the hospital or go into a nursing home but suffers a further stroke and her condition worsens.
Georges continues to look after Anne, despite the strain it puts on him to do so, until one day he grabs the pillow on the bed and smothers her with it.
The narrative is powerful in portraying the deep bond between the characters and understandably evokes a huge amount of sympathy for them. This naturally leads the viewer to be drawn to see Georges’ ending of his wife’s life as an act of love and compassion rather than one of desperation.
Gullette argues, ‘For
a film in which a husband murders his wife, Amour has
been shown a lot of love. It was nominated for five Oscars, including best actress
for Emmanuelle Riva,
and best foreign language film, which it won.’
‘But the manner in which the movie ends, and
the apparent inevitability of such an ending,’ she says, ‘have gone largely unexamined’.
She then artfully
probes and exposes the films unstated presuppositions that, by going
unchallenged, subtly prepare the viewer to embrace euthanasia uncritically as a
solution to irreversible disability:
‘One of the implicit convictions of the film is that a
carer – even one as assiduous as Jean-Louis Trintignant's Georges – will crack
under the strain of caring for a stroke victim… yet the circumstances shown in
Amour are highly unusual. Money is no object for this couple. The carer has no
pressing health issues of his own. He is also a man. And, though highly
educated, he is a man who apparently has never received any advice about
caregiving.’
This set of
circumstances, she argues, is rather contrived:
‘ Carers are now advised to arrange respite
care: to get out, eat properly, enjoy a social life. It's understood that their
own health and mental wellbeing is at stake. As well as this, Georges could
easily have secured more help from other agencies… a daughter better educated about disability
might have said words of love to her mother, and persuaded her – while it was
still possible – to go out for tea, out in her wheelchair, to visit a friend.
The family doctor, who makes house calls, could certainly have provided
adequate pain medication for Anne; morphine could have eased her passing.
Georges had more compassionate alternatives available to him than smothering
his wife with a pillow.’
Gullette makes the
point that the ’film's largely adulatory reception has implications for people
with no knowledge of living with disability’ and ‘raises cultural risks in a
western world that is already ageist, and in which stretched medical resources
are meted out to older patients much less generously than to the young’.
The film is
constructed in such a way that ‘it becomes hard to disagree with Georges'
masochistic choices, or even notice that he has broken down’, whereas the
reality is that ‘many seriously ill people find the “morbid phase” of their
lives well worth prolonging’.
By presenting ‘a
nonconsensual termination of life as a solution for the carer: it justifies
euthanasia’ and in the fact that it has been ‘ so widely acclaimed while remaining
so ill-examined’ is, she concludes, ‘a
dangerous thing’.
‘Amour’, as I previously
argued, is a dangerously seductive piece of pro-euthanasia propaganda which
will help fuel and justify elder abuse and will further erode the public conscience.
I have been particularly struck by its strong similarity with
another made in Europe just over 70 years ago.
Ich klage an (Eng: I Accuse) is a 1941 film, directed by Wolfgang Liebeneiner, which depicts a woman with multiple sclerosis who asks her husband, a doctor, to relieve her of her suffering permanently. He agrees to give her a lethal injection of morphine while his friend (who is also a doctor) plays tranquil music on the piano.
The husband is put on trial, where arguments are put forth that prolonging life is sometimes contrary to nature, and that death is a right as well as a duty. It culminates in the husband's declaration that he is accusing them of cruelty for trying to prevent such death.
Ich klage an was actually commissioned by Goebbels at the suggestion of Karl Brandt to make the public more supportive of the Reich's T4 euthanasia program, and presented simultaneously with the practice of euthanasia in Nazi Germany.
Along with similar propaganda films it greatly influenced German public opinion, and it is therefore perhaps not surprising, then, that the first phase of the Nazi euthanasia program (titled Operation T4) actually began with parental requests for the ‘merciful deaths’ of their severely disabled or ill children.
As they say, ‘the rest is history’.
The film was banned by Allied powers after the war.
Ich klage an (Eng: I Accuse) is a 1941 film, directed by Wolfgang Liebeneiner, which depicts a woman with multiple sclerosis who asks her husband, a doctor, to relieve her of her suffering permanently. He agrees to give her a lethal injection of morphine while his friend (who is also a doctor) plays tranquil music on the piano.
The husband is put on trial, where arguments are put forth that prolonging life is sometimes contrary to nature, and that death is a right as well as a duty. It culminates in the husband's declaration that he is accusing them of cruelty for trying to prevent such death.
Ich klage an was actually commissioned by Goebbels at the suggestion of Karl Brandt to make the public more supportive of the Reich's T4 euthanasia program, and presented simultaneously with the practice of euthanasia in Nazi Germany.
Along with similar propaganda films it greatly influenced German public opinion, and it is therefore perhaps not surprising, then, that the first phase of the Nazi euthanasia program (titled Operation T4) actually began with parental requests for the ‘merciful deaths’ of their severely disabled or ill children.
As they say, ‘the rest is history’.
The film was banned by Allied powers after the war.
Our current generation sadly is a long way from possessing the same courage or powers
of discernment.
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