This is Farhadi’s special genius. He invites you into lives unfamiliar only to spin around the mirror in the last moments so you can see your own surprised face.
Knowing what happens is in no way the same as experiencing it happening.
Rend your rictus with screams of inchoate rage and explode my face with eldritch fire. I love you Stay Puft.
A bitter ending is better than an endless bitterness.
Asghar Farhadi’s The Past (Le Passé) is close. It is close like the body beside you in bed. It is close like the memory of mistakes made.