The Father is the third film I’ve seen in as many months to be at least on some level about living with dementia. And for certain, it is the best. Directed by Florian Zeller in his film debut, and based off his own French play Le Pere, it is set almost entirely within a single flat in London, a claustrophobic environment in which you’re asked to stew in the diminishing mind of eighty-three year old Anthony (Anthony Hopkins) as he begins to suspect conspiracy at the hands of his family and caretakers. Largely subjective, the film is intense and disorienting; faces change, possessions or people disappear, and it is never clear how much is genuine manipulation or elder abuse and how much is just the effects of his crippling ailment.
Anthony is introduced in a bit of a familiar context, having frightened away his live-in caretaker over suspecting her of stealing his watch, and his daughter Anne (Olivia Colman) confirming its’ whereabouts in a routine hiding spot of his. It’s a very common episode, both in fiction and in life, when dealing with an elderly person losing their mental faculties, that they lash out in frustration over a small thing out of their control. Consequently, they need to assign blame to someone convenient. But like a lot of people in his predicament, Anthony’s mood is prone to shifting; “he has his ways” as Anne refers to it. And we soon see there is a charming, eloquent side to his gruffness, a window perhaps into the kind of personality he was before the dementia took root.
Zellers’ script (co-written with Christopher Hampton) touches on a lot of important small details about Anthonys’ condition, such as how he forgets to get dressed in the morning or how he unconsciously repeats a phrase amusing to him (“they don’t even speak English” in regards to his daughter possibly moving to Paris). These are the things that we as outsiders might notice that Zeller was clever enough to incorporate, but its’ the psychological details that really make the movie subtly brilliant. When confronted with something that doesn’t make sense to him, such as a man (Mark Gatiss) living in his flat whom he has no recollection of, he might stop questioning it after a point and go along with things to avoid embarrassment. Anthony is a proud man, with a confident assertiveness, which is why he’ll both be outspoken when something seems wrong to him yet also reserved when it appears incontrovertibly true. He is deeply ashamed to be mistaken, to be perceived of as stupid, and to be helpless.
Expounding on those severe insecurities in full awareness of the magnitude and personal toll this mans’ shifting reality is having on him is Anthony Hopkins at the fullest power he’s exuded in quite some time. As this uncertain old man feeling neglected and suffering profoundly in ways he can’t articulate, Hopkins delivers a performance that is nothing short of heartbreaking. I can’t recall the last time he brought so much emotionality to a role, so much unfiltered vulnerability. He’s usually the commanding, wise old man of the story, and thus to see him so reduced and pitiable at times -this is relatively new and it might be one of his best outings. Surely, a devastating final sequence alone qualifies his Oscar nomination, an unbearably raw and real moment that answers for the rest of the movie. Of his co-stars, which include such dependable gems as Imogen Poots and Olivia Williams, it’s unsurprisingly Olivia Colman who shines brightest (in her second Oscar-nominated role as a character called Anne). She exceptionally relates the stress of this put-upon yet very loving daughter, trying to balance her fear over her fathers’ condition with her concern for her own well being and peace of mind.
Zeller allows his actors plenty of freedom as he builds suspense and cements unease in the erratic nature of the time and space around Anthony. The movie feels at times like something of a Hitchcock thriller, or of course the classic Gaslight -films about insidious exploitation or paranoia. And for Zeller despite being a writer and playwright by craft, he demonstrates a real sharpness in creating visual tension. Some of it is obviously carried over from the stage of course, but in control of the camera he makes some very particular choices as to what he allows you to see and when, guiding his audience in their search for clues. He conjures up a dreamlike state and plays very fascinatingly with perspective and linearity. After a point it becomes less clear that things are actually progressing chronologically, there are too many inconsistencies in the truth of those around him: Anne says she’s going to Paris, then claims she’s not, and then is going back again. Anthony spends a morning with his new caretaker (Poots), only for it to suddenly be evening and she hasn’t actually started yet. Even scenes where Anthony isn’t present are suspect. I especially love one sequence where he eavesdrops on a conversation between Anne and her partner Paul (Rufus Sewell) before joining them for a scene, leaving them, and their conversation leading right back to where it was when he joined it in the first place -and sure enough he’s right there. Nothing makes sense. And yet by the end it does, perfectly.
Where the movie ultimately goes with its’ conspicuous disorientation and how it relates to Anthony’s mental state and the people in his life is not unexpected, but it is impactful and sobering. And the illustration of dementia that it gives us is already stark and mildly discomforting, discussing and exploring the condition vitally from the inside out.
My Opa passed away due to complications from Alzheimer’s. In his last days he used to periodically confuse my dad for his brother. And I know that the disease is hereditary; it has long occurred to me that someday I may be in the position that Anthony is in this film, and it’s a very scary thought. Certainly The Father has not assuaged that fear, but it is comforting to know that this film understands the reality of living with dementia, how the world looks and what relationships mean.In expressing that with in some cases extreme literalism, it cultivates greater empathy for those to whom Anthony is a tragic mirror image.
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