The Father of My Children (12A.)
Directed by Mia Hansen-Love.
Starring Louis-Do de Lencquesaing, Chiara Caselli, Alice de Lencquesaing. French with subtitles. 110 mins
I have made this point before but there’s a certain presumptuousness to French screen acting. They really make themselves at home up there. The downside of this is that while everyone else feels some kind of obligation to put a bit of a show on, sometimes they just kick back and relax. The upside is an easy naturalness that you can’t believe is being faked.
As we follow movie producer Gregoire (Louis-Do de Lencquesaing) through his working day and then at home with his wife and three daughters it is so unforced it feels like eavesdropping. (It probably helps that de Lencquesaing’s own daughter has been cast as his eldest.) If you see this, during the section when his two daughters are putting on a little show for the family just try imagining a Hollywood remake and how excruciating that scene would be.
Gregoire lives with a phone stuck to his ear, rushing around Paris in a constant scramble, trying to do deals and find a new cigarette to lodge into his mouth. He looks like an affable version of Marco Pierre White, but we soon realise that behind the easy charm his production company, Moon Films, which specialises in difficult artistic projects, is in serious trouble with mounting debts and an out of control Scandinavian production that is running way over budget thanks to a temperamental director.
This is definitely a film where you want to know as little as possible about the plot beforehand. Suffice to say that sadness will occur. The film has an unusual structure in that it builds towards a dramatic centrepiece and then slowly descends away from it. As a result the second half of the film isn’t quite as strong as the first but then that is probably as it should be. Later when you reflect on the film you realise how skilfully Love’s screenplay has been assembled.
Love also sometimes works as a film critic and she must be a novelty because on the evidence of this she seems to really know what she’s talking about. The only issue I’d take is her decision to fill Paris only with songs that are over forty years old and in particular a certain Doris Day number over the closing credits.
Directed by Mia Hansen-Love.
Starring Louis-Do de Lencquesaing, Chiara Caselli, Alice de Lencquesaing. French with subtitles. 110 mins
I have made this point before but there’s a certain presumptuousness to French screen acting. They really make themselves at home up there. The downside of this is that while everyone else feels some kind of obligation to put a bit of a show on, sometimes they just kick back and relax. The upside is an easy naturalness that you can’t believe is being faked.
As we follow movie producer Gregoire (Louis-Do de Lencquesaing) through his working day and then at home with his wife and three daughters it is so unforced it feels like eavesdropping. (It probably helps that de Lencquesaing’s own daughter has been cast as his eldest.) If you see this, during the section when his two daughters are putting on a little show for the family just try imagining a Hollywood remake and how excruciating that scene would be.
Gregoire lives with a phone stuck to his ear, rushing around Paris in a constant scramble, trying to do deals and find a new cigarette to lodge into his mouth. He looks like an affable version of Marco Pierre White, but we soon realise that behind the easy charm his production company, Moon Films, which specialises in difficult artistic projects, is in serious trouble with mounting debts and an out of control Scandinavian production that is running way over budget thanks to a temperamental director.
This is definitely a film where you want to know as little as possible about the plot beforehand. Suffice to say that sadness will occur. The film has an unusual structure in that it builds towards a dramatic centrepiece and then slowly descends away from it. As a result the second half of the film isn’t quite as strong as the first but then that is probably as it should be. Later when you reflect on the film you realise how skilfully Love’s screenplay has been assembled.
Love also sometimes works as a film critic and she must be a novelty because on the evidence of this she seems to really know what she’s talking about. The only issue I’d take is her decision to fill Paris only with songs that are over forty years old and in particular a certain Doris Day number over the closing credits.
