Sometimes – not often enough – a movie doesn’t play on a screen in front of you so much as it happens to you. And while I can’t guarantee everyone’s mileage will be the same, from about five minutes in, from its enthrallingly tense beginning through to its unexpectedly transcendent close, while Kornél Mundruczó and Kata Wéber‘s “Pieces of a Woman” was playing out on the screen in front of me, it was also taking up residence deep inside, spreading and growing like the apple seed that Vanessa Kirby‘s shattered character places tenderly in damp cotton to sprout. None of the situations it describes are familiar to me, and the locations and lifestyles it depicts are very far from my own experience, and yet in a quietly momentous way that is extraordinarily fulfilling despite the often devastating turns its story takes, “Pieces of a Woman” happened to me.