Life does not have a point, but stories told about a life or part of a life should. I couldn't find much of one in the story Haneke told about Anne and George. His story is notable for the absences, for what we are not told about the characters or their many years together, notable for all that isn't but I would expect to be in their lives in, besides grief, in their declining years; no music is played in the apartment (except for the former student's few notes of one of Beethoven's Bagatelles and Georges' remembrance of Anne playing a part from a Schubert Impromptu), despite the fact the the living room shelves hold CDs, tapes and LPs and a good deal of h-ifi equipment and Anne has spent he life playing, teaching and listening to music and George his life loving it (we not told about his career but I assume it too was in music). But more than music is absent; from the time we seem them in the apartment, friends are absent, former students (except for the brief awkward visit of Alexander) are absent, real conversation is absent, memories are absent, photos (except when Anne looks at the albums at breakfast) are absent. In the place of this, there are the silent daily routines, e.g. the cleaning lady and the sounds of her vacuum cleaner, that seem to go on too long. Why are Georges and Anne so without everything that helps people (at least people of means and full past lives) in their declining years and helps ease their hardship at the end? Why trot out the daughter, Eva, and then tell us so so little about her or the source of her estrangement from her parents?