Hard Truths

I was one of the few who felt that Leigh's films Mr. Turner and Peterloo represented the best in his career in cinema. He finally had a high budget and his artistic craft met them perfectly. Hard Truths is a step back from this scale back into the social dramas he used to make, although this feels totally new for him at the same time. If you have a dark sense of humor, you will find it extremely funny when she is nasty and yelling at everyone. They put her in one environment after another, almost like Mr Bean but she causes mayhem everywhere she goes. The furniture store, the doctor, the grocery store. I loved these scenes because the fouler she gets, the funnier the movie becomes. It is such a simple and ingenious idea. Yet outside of these comic vignettes, the film is extremely bitter. It is so well acted and well staged. The supporting characters around her bring the depth in their reaction against her forming a film where we are drawing our own meaning. It is another solid classic in his filmography that I will revisit.

"Hard Truths" is the kind of movie I think is extremely good, almost great, but that I could hardly "recommend" to anyone. It's extremely unpleasant to watch and most movie-goers will just think, "why am I inflicting this on myself"? I admit, as much as I admire the film, I understand where said movie-goer would be coming from.

Part of what makes watching "Hard Truths" so difficult is that by the standards of conventional narrative nothing "melodramatically sad" takes place. This is simply a slice of life of an exceptionally unhappy, though in no way conventionally "struggling", family. The pain the film depicts isn't brought about by an incident. It's a general reaction to the experience of life in the world. Most of us have felt this negative response to life at some point or another, and many of us have known people, like the main characters in this film, who have made choices they are scared to change that have kept them in a permanent state of misery. That is why the film feels so, well, true, but also unpalatable.

If I was trying to convince someone to watch "Hard Truths" I would compare it to a painting. The greatest portraitists create works expressing a full range of emotions in their sitters, sometimes the experience of an unexplained sadness or suffering. Yet such works are still considered beautiful and, in some sense, pleasurable to look at. Mike Leigh is a well-established dramatic master. Rarely in his career though have I sensed such an exceptional eye for detail on the director's part as in this work. Every aspect of the characters' world beautifully reflects the dreadfulness of their inner state. Their home, for instance, is, at first glance, generally pleasant but one comes to sense a fully artificial, unlived in aspect to it. It's not a home as much as a tomb for the living.

As is true with any film, this "portrait" is not the work of its director alone. In this case, the cast has an especially important part to play in accomplishing the work. Much has been written about Marianne Jean-Baptiste's lead performance as Pansy and she fully earns the encomium. David Weber and Tuwaine Barrett, as Pansy's husband and son Curtley and Moses, live up to Jean-Baptiste's firepower. This is less true of Michele Austin as Chantelle, Pansy's long-suffering sister, although I blame this less on the actress than on Leigh's only false note in the direction. The lively and boisterous home Chantelle shares with her daughters is a bit too brazenly contrasted with that of Pansy and company.

The quality of the performances both helps make the comparison to a painted portrait possible but also what ultimately makes it inadequate. The early film theorist Bela Belazs proclaimed that the most unique aspect of the cinematic frame was the way it made humanity visible as never before, especially in the form of the close-up. The film "Hard Truths" most reminded me of was Dreyer's "Passion of Joan of Arc". It's close-ups of the weeping actress Renée Jeanne Falconetti transcend the Joan narrative and impels the viewer to wonder from what source Falconetti expresses, manifests, this angst. Viewers of "Hard Truths" enter into a similarly conjectural/ empathic relation to Jean-Baptiste. It is only this affect of the performative aspect of cinema that invites the viewer to ponder the film's central question: what is the source of Pansy's suffering, what makes people unhappy and in extension, what makes happiness possible? It is a question that the film wisely leaves unanswered, at least in any verbally expressible way.

Belazs's theory of film would seem as pure a proclamation of the metaphysics of presence as one might hope to find in the twentieth century. I am no champion of this metaphysics and would often lean on the side of its prominent critics- Derrida and company who would tend to say that reality can only be referred to through the displacement of language. I must say, however, that the ending of "Hard Truths" is a compelling argument that the most difficult truths can, and perhaps can only, be acknowledged wordlessly.

Final review of 2024!

"I don't understand you, but I love you."

Hard Truths is a welcoming return from legendary filmmaker/writer Mike Leigh.

I have no idea why this film was rejected from other festivals like Cannes and Venice because this was great. It is a depressing character piece where certain things in our past are left unresolved, and the unspoken hurt still picks away at us. Mental health issues are not just sadness and quietness but anger as well.

We follow Pansy, whose first-ever scene is her springing to wake after having a terrible dream, and from there, she is in a constant state of rage at pretty much everything. The littlest things can set her off into a rant. Her words/insults range from hilariously creative to having some truth to what she is complaining about. It mostly has to do with how people talk to her, with one example of a scene in a parking lot when another driver starts an altercation after rudely asking if she is leaving her parked space.

How about another scene where she goes to the dentist, and the woman doing the treatment talks to her in a manner that is not meant to be disrespectful and tries to ease the patient with friendliness during the process but can be seen as being treated/talked to like a child. Even Pansy says, "Don't talk to me like a child!"

But this is not a simple case of waking up cranky or having a bad day. It is something more than that. Judging by her family life, with her husband and son, they are all miserable, most noticeably her son and husband, who carry this heavy silence and hardly make eye contact. There is no love or comfort in the house.

On the other hand, Pansy's sister lives the opposite life; she is happier and has a healthy relationship with her children. Even her flat is more vibrant in colour and feels more inviting.

Marianne Jean-Baptiste is terrific here, and what could have easily been a one-note performance is, instead, a devastating but exhausting performance of a woman who needs a lot of help. But she is still someone you want to avoid if you are in close contact. Even her angry outburst tires her out.

It is a very human film with beautiful writing and acting. The film shows the sad reality of how our mental health can isolate us from other people, even our own family. There is no concrete answer to why Pansy is like this. There are little crumbs of a backstory, but it is left open-ended. Situations like this are like the ocean: it is much deeper than it looks. The cinematography from Dick Pope (RIP) is subtle and nothing too flashy.

This movie and another film I saw at this festival, A Real Pain, almost feel similar in terms of a complicated family dynamic and the different lives the characters lead, where one is happier than the other.

Overall rating: The ultimate feel-bad movie of 2024.

Well, 2024 is done and dusted. I hope you all had a great year, and if not, I hope 2025 is better for you. I will see you there. Take care, everyone!

This isn't your typical storytelling-it doesn't follow a structured beginning, middle, and end. Instead, it's a character study of an isolated woman, played by the brilliant Marianne Jean-Baptiste, as it unpacks her relationships with her family and society. The contrast between her and her sister-and by extension, her entire family-is just fascinating to watch. The film tries to understand what drives someone to become so scared, angry, exhausted, and disillusioned with the world. I can't recall many films that visualize the impact of perspective on a person's life as masterfully as this one. So if you're expecting a dramatic beginning or a mind-blowing finale, forget it. This film is just the middle-but it's one hell of a middle, filled with complex characters, sharp humor, and moments of deep sadness. Just give yourself over to the experience and enjoy the ride.

While watching, I kept wondering: Why don't we see more films with rich, engaging conversations anymore? Dialogue in modern movies often feels like pure exposition-just people exchanging information. But here, every scene, whether packed with dialogue or completely silent, is alive with meaning. The visual storytelling is just as strong as the verbal. The cast is phenomenal, the cinematography is steady and intentional, and the editing is precise. There's so much raw emotion in every moment-love, fear, anger, sadness, joy, and everything in between. And one thing I hadn't felt in a long time while watching a movie? Genuine excitement about how a simple human interaction would unfold. There's this constant sense of anticipation because every conversation feels unpredictable.

Anyway, I had an absolute blast watching this. Not a single scene feels unnecessary or dull, even though the shots are deceptively simple. The music complements the tone perfectly, and the production as a whole is working at its peak. The only frustrating thing? Hearing that Mike Leigh is struggling to get his films made these days. He's a one-of-a-kind filmmaker, and whether you love or hate his work, you have to appreciate his unique vision. He tells the stories others don't. He cares about characters that most filmmakers overlook. Let the man cook. Give him all the funding he wants. Don't leave us hanging.

Have you ever encountered someone-whether in your personal life or at work-who was utterly impossible to deal with? If so, be forewarned: this film might bring back unsettling memories. One of the main characters is an absolute terror, a person who seems to thrive on sowing misery and conflict. She wields her cruelty with precision, crushing the spirit of her child and husband until there's little left of their individual vitality. But she doesn't stop there. No, her toxic charm spills out into the world, leaving anyone in her path to contend with the emotional wreckage she leaves behind.

In stark contrast, the film introduces us to her sister, a character who could not be more different. Where the first thrives on malice, the sister exudes kindness, warmth, and a sense of grounded sanity. She serves as a foil, a reminder that even within the same family, people can embody profoundly different responses to life's challenges.

This contrast raises a central question: how can two people, raised in the same family, turn out so differently? The film dives into this mystery, exploring the forces that shape us-whether it's nature, nurture, or the choices we make as individuals. How does one person end up consumed by anger, while another finds the strength to let go and move forward with grace?