The Father
Written by Andreas Babiolakis
We are playing catch up by reviewing films that are a part of the current awards season.
When you make one of the great modern day plays into a film, you need to do exactly the right things to not miss a beat. So, Florian Zeller — creator of Le Père — directed his first feature film just to make sure the English cinematic adaptation (The Father) held up as well as it could. Part of this decision could have stemmed from the already-existing adaptation Floride by Philippe Le Guay, which did decently reception-wise. This way, Zeller could guarantee this English version would be up to par. In his directorial debut, Zeller succeeds greatly, with one of the greatest films of 2020 (without question, in my opinion). It would be one thing if The Father was a really good film adaptation, but Zeller exceeds even this requirement by breaking down his picture in a metaphysical sense. You know how many adaptations of plays feel exactly like that? Well, Zeller uses this inescapable reality to his advantage, by turning the limited capacities of The Father into a claustrophobic exercise of memory, ever-so-slightly experimental decision making, and the reenactments of an ailing mind.
One thought kept pestering me the entire watch: this is like Charlie Kaufman, but toned down and mindful of the sensitivity of the subject matter. Either way, it’s less of a statement on Kaufman (who I always want to go full throttle), and more of one on Zeller: I did not expect The Father to be as bold as it was in its aesthetic depictions of dementia. In a sense, you’re placed directly in Anthony’s seat, and are realizing exactly what is going on before he does; you’re still left to experience what living with such a condition may feel like, and even these brief moments are enough for me to ache so deeply. Enough story is still given so that The Father isn’t entirely a gimmick-based feature, but you do feel the bulk of the film’s narrative does thin out towards the end; this is all a good thing, as the despair Anthony feels is very much felt by you as well, and any possible story told here is replaced entirely by the realizations of circumstances, and the grasping onto identifiable feelings as to not completely disappear. I’m telling you: The Father is incredibly well told.
The Father establishes its basis early on, before intentionally steering into the unknown.
If that wasn’t enough, we have Sir Anthony Hopkins in the middle of this film at the best he’s been in years: a sympathetic geriatric named Anthony (conveniently) who isn’t sure how much he is fading away, even though we are very aware of his regression through his perspective. There are times where Hopkins will send you bawling; I find his moments where he transforms from the titular father, and becomes a child seeking his mother, to be incredibly difficult to watch without wanting to cry. Surrounding him is a stellar cast, but it is Olivia Colman as his daughter who carries so much of the emotional burden for the rest of the supporting crew. It’s also nice to see Colman doing a straight up dramatic role that isn’t a specific character or person, and I’d like to see more performances like this from her. She can convey so many thoughts and feelings through the simplest expressions; she doesn’t need a monologue or scene stealing moment, because she can make entire empty spaces of films her own. If I had my druthers, Colman would be the frontrunner of every Best Supporting Actress category this year.
These faces are important, because Anthony’s recollection isn’t reliable for us to believe; if anything, Zeller toys with identities often throughout The Father. You will find yourself questioning a lot of what you see: did this scene already happen?; do I remember this person?; is this even real? The film is a brisk hour and a half as well, and Zeller wastes no time leaping into the cruxes of the film’s main event, even though you still have enough of a story developed before The Father really gets explorative. To fulfil Zeller’s intentions, creative sets are needed (either that, or mightily convincing editing), so familiar locations begin to feel like the labyrinths of one’s mind. Again, this feels like Kaufman light, and Zeller never punishes Anthony for something he can’t control. He just introduces us to a world we will hopefully never understand from a personal level: a nightmarish reality for many, unfortunately. I do appreciate that Zeller never feels sadistic with his approaches (even if in the name of art).
As The Father progresses, the film transitions from a touching story into a challenging experience through Anthony’s perspective.
I have a feeling this has to do with the pandemic and the peculiar rollout of films, but the lack of discussion surrounding The Father is frankly saddening to me. Had things gone alright, I honestly feel like this film could have been a major awards season contender. It feels like your usual Oscar bait, but with the best intentions, some bold risks, and all of the authenticity to allow the film to withstand the test of time. It’s the kind of film that may be dismissed once the Academy Awards happen, but I’m devastated that it’s being barely cared about at all. I implore you to watch The Father as soon as you can. It’s an excruciating picture from 2020 that excels in almost every way, and is certainly much more thought provoking and connective than I ever anticipated. It should be getting so much more attention and love right now.
Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.