Cloak of invisibility

Hannah stars Charlotte Rampling in a film where not much happens and not much happens and not much happens and then, finally, not much happens. One scene, for instance, involves changing a light bulb and that’s it, and as close to an action stunt as we ever get. (Unless you count doing laundry.) But. But. It is also peculiarly mesmerising, showcases an extraordinary performance, and cumulatively builds into a powerful exploration of pain, loneliness and invisibility. So not much happens and not much happens and not much happens — but a great deal is said.

Directed and co-written by Andrea Pallaoro, and set in an unspecified Belgian town, the film opens with a close-up of Rampling’s Hannah, but then most of the film is a close-up of Rampling’s Hannah, understandably. Rampling has been an electrifying screen presence since she was 19 years old and nothing has changed. Tired of Rampling, tired of life, in my opinion. Anyway, Hannah is making a terrible noise, a kind of ululating, like an animal in pain, which is what she is, even if we then discover it’s just her amateur theatre group warming up for rehearsals.

She returns home to the apartment she shares with her husband who, excitingly, changes a light bulb when it blows. A couple of scenes later, the pair travel into town where she leaves him at some kind of institution. Information is offered only sparsely, but there are enough clues to work out eventually that he’s been sent to prison in disgrace, and enough clues to work out what his crime might be. Some critics have said this isn’t so, but they weren’t paying attention, or are thick, or both. I found it horribly clear.

Her life then collapses in on itself as she pays for her husband’s crimes.