I don’t usually watch foreign films. Stereotypical pretentious content aside, I never found myself with access to such films. What better place to experience different cultures on screen than at TIFF.

Germany’s Caroline Link displays a determined case of family loss in A Year Ago In Winter. The fortunate asset of Link’s film is it’s subtlety. The heartache of a lost son and brother is attempted to be rectified through a portrait. 

The idea of painting the recently deceased, especially someone who took their own life, is a bit creepy. Link not only discusses the creepiness, but also forms a beautiful piece of artwork, where the sister finds herself through the loss of Alex.

There are two portraits. The first is of Alex and Lilli at the piano. An image that without knowing any history of the siblings, conveys an essence of personality more powerful than hours of dialogue. There is an eerie sense of devotion from the dead sibling, where Lilli looks dismissive, uncaring. I yearned for the dead when seeing the portrait, feeling myself a sense of loss. I didn’t feel right looking upon the image, as though I was intruding on a private moment. 

The second portrait removes Alex from the piano, placing him as only an image behind Lilli. Although satisfying Lilli, I felt too much of a disconnection between the two characters. Through investigating this unknown photograph, Lilli discovers Alex’s image in the final portrait is of devotion for her. He truly loved her despite her dismissiveness. I did not see it in the portrait. 

I understood Link’s efforts in the multiple portraits, but felt the emotion in the second attempt fell short. I was incurious of the connection between the siblings, and left the film without satisfaction because of the portrait. Link branched from artistic grieving into a spiritual connection throughout the film between Alex and Lilli, which she managed to conclude sweetly in the final scene when Lilli dances in the snow. 

The question of why Alex commits suicide is never solved. Each member of the family gave their opinion as to why and mourned because they felt responsible, but a defined reason is never determined. And with reason. Suicide is never understood. To pretend that a single reason can be given for one’s sorrows is pathetic. There can be no sympathetic final scene where all is forgiven and understood so family members can move on with their lives. What can be expected is that people need time to grieve. Then they can move on. Never forgetting, but being able to live.