This isn’t a Christmas movie to any significant degree, so you won’t feel any seasonal disorientation if you watch it this spring. The holiday does provide part of the occasion for bringing together a family, which has been the basis of many a movie. The difference here is in the execution. Director/writer Arnaud Desplechin delivers us sympathetic characters of great depth and a very rich occasion for gathering (no, it’s not just for holiday feel-goods). The matriarch of the family, Junon, subtly played by the still gorgeous Catherine Deneuve, has been diagnosed with a form of cancer that can only be treated by bone marrow transplant, though the transplant is about as likely to kill the host as it is to preserve her life. The only biologically compatible people who can contribute the marrow are a deeply troubled grandson and the black sheep of the family, middle son Henri, played by Mathieu Almaric (whom you may have seen last as the villain the latest Bond movie). Henri’s older brother, Joseph, died of the same cancer his mother now has, when he was six, 30 years ago; Henri was perhaps conceived to serve as a possible marrow donor to his dying brother, but turned out not to be compatible. Junon freely admits she has never loved her second son, and he has never loved her. Henri’s sister has a congenital hatred of Henri such that, in a financial arrangement that keeps him out of jail, she insists on his banishment from the family. It is only Junon’s illness that prompts her to lift the banishment and allow Henri home for the holiday. How’s that for a set up?
There’s a second familial plot line that I won’t go into, but it too is very rich. What strikes me is how thoroughly Shakespearean all of this is—and, for me, that’s a good thing. From the generic seasonal title (like A Winter’s Tale and A Midsummer Night’s Dream) to the overt references to Midsummer (watching the 30’s version on TV and quoting its epilog in the sister’s voice over that is the film’s epilog), to the legalistic deal-making (ala Merchant of Venice), to the introduction of a stranger (Henri’s Jewish girlfriend), to banishment—all of it seems there to anchor this tale in the context of Shakespeare. In a very early scene we see the father, Abel, addressing mourners at his son’s graveside. He says that his son’s death has become the foundation of his future life, so that his son has become his father. If that’s not a Shakespearean metaphor, I don’t know what is.
This is a difficult, challenging film, but one that rewards our efforts. The characters are all complex but essentially sympathetic, and they grow. I contrast it to Rachel Getting Married, reviewed here recently. It is the best film I’ve seen some time, and Desplechin has established himself as a force to be reckoned with in my book. I will probably watch it again, which I rarely do, if for no other reason than to further feed my Shakespeare obsession.
Subtitle Alert: Persons speaking in foreign tongues.
