Review By Simon Zhou

The Father of My Children
Dir. Mia Hansen-Love

MIA HANSEN-LOVE’S second feature film, The Father of My Children, is full of lies.  It is about the lies a film producer tells his financiers, the lies a father tells his children, the lies a husband tells his wife.  Most of all, it is about the lies we tell ourselves, the burgeoning truncheons we use to bludgeon the elephants inside our hearts to pretend they are not there, because quite simply, it would hurt too much to admit the stark-naked truth.  It is about the reasons we tell lies; and the possibility that even though the lies we tell are cowardly, sometimes love is a cowardly thing.

It would be a disservice to the film to speak too much of its plot, except to say that it is a gentle inquisition into the life of Gregoire Canvel (Louis-Do de Lenquesaing), a brusquely charming, overworked film producer whose life is slowly disentangling.  Unable to share his burden, his makes an irrevocable decision that lays his life bare, revealing previously unrealised truths to his family.  There is a poetic realism to the film, a wryly detached mood that nonetheless remains deeply sympathetic to the characters.  For whatever reason, I could not help thinking of Jean-Paul Satre as the film unraveled, and although the film veers into difficult territory, it never felt to me heavier than a melancholy old pop song, its mellifluous melody infecting an optimism and rejoice of life though its refrain is full of sadness.

The performances are wonderful, brimming with spontaneity and vibrancy.  I cannot but be in awe of Hansen-Love’s sensitivity in guiding her cast, and the observations of life are steeped in personal truths, like the best films of Truffaut (incidentally, Hansen-Love has written for Cahier du Cinema, and is the fiancé of Olivier Assayas, a former editor of aforementioned journal).  Gently assured, Hansen-Love patterns the film to the rhythm and structure of life, in its unexpectedness, in the way that things do not always go as we would like, nor do they tie together neatly.  There is both warmth and sadness, and in truth, the story structure is incredibly daring, but Hansen-Love commands her film with such delicate awareness that we barely notice. 

A satisfying experience from start to finish, I must nonetheless confess that it did not ultimately affect me as much as the events of the film might’ve lead me to expect.  In its gentle, undemanding way, it is about what remains of a human life after it is gone, the resiliency of the human spirit, and how, no matter the unpredictable turns life takes, it ultimately continues.  It is about the cowardice of telling the truth, and the way that love redeems.  For me, it was simply a pop song, but I know that for some seeing this film, it will be a symphony.  And even if it is only a pop song, sometimes, a pop song is all you need.