45 Years review: When two become undone

Kate (Charlotte Rampling) and Geoff (Tom Courtenay), are a retired couple preparing for their 45th anniversary party. It’s an odd one to mark but, well, Geoff was ill for their 40th and besides, the unconventional number is entirely in keeping with this deftly constructed, realistic drama. In the days before the party, Geoff receives a letter: the body of his first love, Katya, has been found, encased in ice.

Kate had known about the accident in the Alps that killed Katya. But only now does she inquire about the particulars. Pricked by recollection, Geoff’s behaviour changes and he visibly reverts to the characteristics of youth.

It’s a subtle process: a former left-wing firebrand who once called a family friend a fascist when she expressed admiration for Margaret Thatcher, Geoff is suddenly reluctant to attend a golf club do. He takes up smoking and reading Kierkegaard again. And worse – from Kate’s perspective – he rumbles around the attic at night, hoking out old photographs of his long-dead girlfriend.

It does not take long for Kate’s curiosity to turn to resentment. Did Geoff choose her because of her superficial resemblance to Katya? Has their entire marriage – all 45 years of it – been a lie?

This new film from Andrew Haigh, writer-director of the highly acclaimed Weekend (2011) is, technically speaking, of the Grey Pound genre. But Haigh's superbly precise anatomy of the central relationship is far more powerful and universal than the age bracket of the characters. The screenplay comprises small, perfectly observed moments: passive- aggressive questions, gentle nagging, low-level spying and seemingly innocuous disputes that aren't remotely innocuous.

In this spirit, Lol Crawley’s cinematography – even out on the magnificent Norfolk broads – is impeccably naturalistic and understated.

The deceptively dramatic everyday details finally coalesce into a thrilling and impossibly empathetic detective story. Rampling and Courtenay managed an unprecedented double- whammy at the Berlin Film Festival earlier this year, when she took home the Silver Bear for Best Actress and he took home the Silver Bear for Best Actor. They deserve no less: either player can manage to convey more with an anxious drag on a cigarette than most thespians could manage with a chest-beating soliloquy.

And if you thought the Moody Blues' track Go Now was heartbreaking before, sit tight for the final shot and closing credits.

Can Haigh possibly soar higher? We look forward to finding out.