The father of my children (Le pere de mes enfants) is a very French film.
I shan’t ruin anything by telling you the story as it features in all the promotional blurb. So unless you’re an avid review avoider, you shan’t suffer here.
The film, based I believe on some true events, covers the events leading up to and then in the aftermath of a film producer’s death. He runs a small production company, Moon Films (I bet it sounds better in French) but he doesn’t seem to be terribly lucky in the things he decides to finance. The excerpts featured (which they must have had a great time putting together) mostly dealt with bearded angst. They reminded me of a terrible film I went to see with Mother, mostly silent, featuring some sporadic and vigorous dancing in a variety of desolate locations.
Anyway, his poor investment decisions left him owing money all over the place without the artistic exultation to carry it off. His adoring and adorable family – three girls and beautiful but careworn mother – support him as best they can but beautiful but adoring is starting to get a little anxious. So…
Well in truth, my judgement from here on in is hopelessly flawed as I took a little nap. And woke just before a gunshot and our hero lying on the pavement. So I must suppose he took his own life. Though there was no blood. So I can’t really comment on how well the tension escalated until the audience was rapt with the impossibility of the situation and could easily gladly see that suicide was the only way out. Because I slept through it.
I think possibly his wife left him in the run up to the shot. As she made a guilt laden comment about it in the aftermath. The children sat round brimming beautifully with tears snuffling their abandonment. The production company rambled on for a bit. Some discussions with Russians but no real resolution. The oldest daughter discovered he had a long lost son whom they’d never met. And she felt a bit angry. And suddenly they were all packed into a car and drove off out of Paris. Fin.
The cinematography was genuinely lovely. The relationships they created between father, wife and girls was really charmingly natural. Fine directing. And I’m probably not allowed to comment on the plot as the end might have been the only possible loosely open ended option open to us given the events of that pesky sleep-filled midriff.
I shan’t ruin anything by telling you the story as it features in all the promotional blurb. So unless you’re an avid review avoider, you shan’t suffer here.
The film, based I believe on some true events, covers the events leading up to and then in the aftermath of a film producer’s death. He runs a small production company, Moon Films (I bet it sounds better in French) but he doesn’t seem to be terribly lucky in the things he decides to finance. The excerpts featured (which they must have had a great time putting together) mostly dealt with bearded angst. They reminded me of a terrible film I went to see with Mother, mostly silent, featuring some sporadic and vigorous dancing in a variety of desolate locations.
Anyway, his poor investment decisions left him owing money all over the place without the artistic exultation to carry it off. His adoring and adorable family – three girls and beautiful but careworn mother – support him as best they can but beautiful but adoring is starting to get a little anxious. So…
Well in truth, my judgement from here on in is hopelessly flawed as I took a little nap. And woke just before a gunshot and our hero lying on the pavement. So I must suppose he took his own life. Though there was no blood. So I can’t really comment on how well the tension escalated until the audience was rapt with the impossibility of the situation and could easily gladly see that suicide was the only way out. Because I slept through it.
I think possibly his wife left him in the run up to the shot. As she made a guilt laden comment about it in the aftermath. The children sat round brimming beautifully with tears snuffling their abandonment. The production company rambled on for a bit. Some discussions with Russians but no real resolution. The oldest daughter discovered he had a long lost son whom they’d never met. And she felt a bit angry. And suddenly they were all packed into a car and drove off out of Paris. Fin.
The cinematography was genuinely lovely. The relationships they created between father, wife and girls was really charmingly natural. Fine directing. And I’m probably not allowed to comment on the plot as the end might have been the only possible loosely open ended option open to us given the events of that pesky sleep-filled midriff.
posted by Claire at 7:49 am
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home