Father of my Children - Film Review

Good morning. The French language film "Father of my Children" is on at the State Cinema this month. It has a catchy title, and the review in the blurb for the theatre, like nearly all of them, makes one wish to see the film yesterday.

I saw it Thursday 2nd Sept 2010. Annie helped me with the French language (in fact the subtitles cured that defect of interpretation).

As with so many such films, not being either English or American, they have their own charisma; even just the opening scene of driving through Paris, and past those lovely triangular building one sees in all the fabulous cities of the world (not that Hobart isn't fabulous, but we don't have one here - all ours are rectangular) holds the attention.

The main character, to start with anyway, is Gregoire, a film producer, running a hectic business from an upstairs set of offices in Paris. He makes you nervous by his calmness in dealing with constant mobile phone calls, numerous interruptions, and demands of family, work, contractors, directors, actors and then escalating debt collection demands against him.

His constant smoking, although one never sees him light a cigarette, seems Parisian, but he is clearly a dying breed.

The scenes at his country chalet, with his young daughters, and the family wresting for attention, the kids playing, he holding them upside down, sitting on them in their bed, and laughing and chortling are delightful, and heavily reminiscent of that time of life when kids are up for a game all the time, and parents re-visit their own childhood through the kids' eyes.

PLOT SPOILER

Gregoire is under the hammer. His wife, quite logically, is irrascible due to his inability to keep of the bloody phone. He keeps calm, surprisingly. In this he gives evidence of his outward calm, which belies the reality of his inner turmoil.

Soon the bank gets through his defences, and he knows they are closing him down. He quietly burns a few incriminating letters regarding past relationships, to avoid embarrassment to his wife, and pulls a gun out of the glove box of his old Swedish car, and calmly shoots his brains out.

Well, as you would expect, that is all 'a nuisance' to the family, apart from not fixing the debt situation. The wife tries to sell off the remaindered production works, and keep those films being worked at the time still running, but it all folds, the office is shut, and the family move back to Italy (home country of the wife.

The charm of this film is the feeling of realness in the behaviour and conduct of the 3 daughters. From giggling girties to sombre manipulators (at times) to having to deal with the unexpected and self caused death of their father - they do an imposing job of acting.

The film had an early sense of 'dragging' but that was really brought up starkly at the pace change when the father takes his decisive action. Sort of like a suspense film, but it wasn't -

'nuf said. PK