Out of the film’s two-hour runtime, moments of carefree happiness in Ana and Toma’s relationship last less than 10 minutes. The rest of the story is a shared struggle with Ana’s anxiety disorder, in which Toma defines his role as a self-sacrificing, devoted partner. Throughout the narrative, Ana frequently experiences episodes, but she remains emotionally distant from Toma and cold even when she feels well. She often employs the "go away but stay" tactic: she pushes Toma away, but as soon as he leaves, she calls him back or her condition worsens dramatically (notably, scenes of overdose due to an unanswered call from Toma and hours of waiting outside a church). Toma is overly inquisitive, trying to uncover whether Ana was raped by her stepfather in the past. But would he have been so relentlessly persistent in uncovering the truth if Ana hadn’t, from the very beginning of their relationship, shared details of her teenage life with him, stirring his imagination (such as the stepfather washing Ana when she was already a teenager)? It’s clear that Ana herself struggled to manage her emotions, and Toma could have been burdened with only a portion of that emotional weight. From a carefree literature student discussing philosophy, Toma quickly transforms into an anxious young man whose sole focus in life becomes Ana’s well-being.
Toma handles all the practical matters—psychiatrist visits, gynecologist appointments, finding a psychotherapist for Ana, and household chores. "How can I help you?" "I don’t know how to help her"—these questions become the cornerstone of his life, his primary purpose. After six years of Ana’s psychoanalytic sessions, an interesting shift occurs: it’s evident that Toma is the one who needs help (noticeably thinner, restless), easily terrified by a 15-minute walk Ana takes with their son without him (what if something happened?). The roles of the two characters seem to have reversed. Toma is drained, exhausted, and depleted, while Ana, after years confined by her illness, finally finds a job, overcomes her panic attacks, feels confident, and looks radiant. Yet, against the backdrop of Ana’s professional success and long-awaited recovery, their marriage reaches a dead end: Ana becomes secretive, withholds important moments from Toma (such as a meeting with her father), outright lies (claiming she didn’t hear a call), and accuses him of constant control. It’s obvious that she irritates him. In anger, Ana throws out the accusation that Toma is to blame for her prolonged illness—but is that fair? Is it justified?
I don’t want to delve into the phenomenon of secondary gain and neurotic altruism, but it’s impossible to ignore the fact that Toma repeats a familiar pattern in his relationship with Ana. A conversation with his mother reveals his complicated history with a previous girlfriend, to whom he was deeply attached and continued to help even after their breakup. Can his behavior be explained solely by the fact that Toma has always had a kind heart (according to his mother)? Of course not. But the on-screen sessions with Ana’s psychoanalyst don’t provide enough insight into the true reasons behind Toma’s self-sacrifice. Yes, it’s clear that Ana’s psychoanalytic sessions worried him—they were something unknown and incomprehensible—but would he have paid for them for over five years if he didn’t want her to recover? I doubt it. And it’s worth acknowledging that turning to a specialist, whose method changed Ana and partly contributed to their breakup, suggests that Toma is driven by a desire to understand himself, their relationship, and what happened. There’s no denial or hatred, no devaluation of the psychoanalytic method—only immense strength and self-work (evidenced by his drenched shirt after a session). And what about Ana? Has she truly freed herself from the burden of her past, or has she simply replaced Toma with her psychoanalyst in a new cycle of codependency?
What remains for the characters in the end is pain. So much pain. Toma says Ana is the most monstrous person in the world, devoid of a soul. Ana, having decided that in her new life without illness there’s no room for Toma, employs a foolproof projection for herself, one that sounds cruel: "I no longer love you. And you no longer love me. I doubt you ever loved me. You were just attached to me."
Psychiatrists agree that pharmacology is not a panacea, and for someone with a disorder, the support of loved ones is crucial. In my view, this story disrupts the balance of giving and taking, after which the one who takes begins to perceive the situation as persecution, while the one who gives exhausts all their resources in one area of life. The moral of this film, as I see it, is this: if you enter a relationship with someone who has a mental disorder, assess your own strength and capabilities, seek professional advice, and never delude yourself into thinking that your love alone will be enough for both of you. Love, unfortunately, cannot heal another person’s psyche by a hundred percent.
