Written by Lila Howells
I walk out of my room, my head pounding, my heart beating, and my face contorting with fear and anxiety. I was afraid, worried. For what? A fictional world I had watched became my own. Anne had become me. I felt everything she felt. The clock ticking with anxiety, the persistence, and unwillingness to give in, and the fleeting and consistent desire for life. My brain slowly floated back down to reality, where I was in my living room alone. I try to look for the message, but all I find is a steady vibration of wonder and questions that continually bounce back and forth inside of my skull. She was lucky, I thought to myself. Lucky. She survived. She stayed in college. She wasn’t arrested. No one was caught. But what about all that pain? Was that lucky? Was getting an illegal abortion instead of receiving an abortion from her doctor lucky? What was lucky about having no support from friends or doctors because of abortion restrictions? I don’t know. This movie doesn’t answer these questions for you. You won’t come out of Happening suddenly being pro-abortion or anti-abortion. You will come out questioning what you would do or could do as Anne as her life consumes you.
Audrey Diwan, the director of Happening, captures this immersive feeling by using many filmmaking techniques. The entire film is made using a 1.37:1 aspect ratio which is unusual compared to the common 1.85:1 or 2.39:1. Through this window, the audience is sucked into their screens and the world of 1960s France. The film starts with a scene where Anne is getting ready to head to the club with her friends. The camera films up close to their faces in this intimate moment of getting ready. I feel as if I’m right beside them slipping on that new cute dress I just bought while making sure my makeup doesn't smudge all over it. Laughing, Smiling, Nervous, and maybe Excited. Framing, similar to aspect ratio contributes to this feeling of closeness too. Most of the shots have you behind Anne as you watch what she is seeing. I see as her friends push her away to keep themselves from going to jail despite their friend reaching out for help to get rid of the one thing keeping them back from succeeding as a writer, pregnancy. I see as her teacher's face withers with shame for one of their most promising students becoming a disappointment despite how much she wants to succeed. And I watch as the silence sits between them.
Silence is something viewers hear all the time, whether it's the slight scribbling of a pencil during a test or the silence when contemplating ideas by myself. Anne is often in silence. A silence almost so deafening that I start to imagine her thoughts at that moment. Is she questioning herself? Is she scared or confident? Does she feel lucky or unlucky? As answers to these questions pop into my head, I start thinking for Anne, and although these thoughts are mine, it often feels more than just that. I am Anne's thoughts. I am her curiosity and wonder. I am her innermost wants and desires but most of all I am the reason behind Anne’s choices.
Throughout the film, we see the exploration of silence in many different forms. Sometimes the silence is subtle in the way that the word abortion is never said. Other times, the silence feels like it's shouting at you, like when Anne is getting an abortion and has to be silent despite the pain so that no one alerts the police. As Audrey Diwan, the director of Happening, puts it, “silence is the main instrument that allows people who are against abortion to get laws against that right.” Silence gives power to those that oppose abortion; suddenly, abortion becomes scary, taboo, and even dangerous. Throughout this film, you experience Anne's life whether you like it or not, but when the film ends, you get the choice of how you feel about abortion, so why not give women a choice too?
