How I Killed My Father

"My Father and I", as the DVD was entitled, spends its time examining the emotional erosion of an icy, controlling, stilted, and successful Gerontologist upon the return of the father who abandoned him as a child. A well presented psychodrama with a solid cast, good production value, and a meager storyline, this film tells its tale of gathering rage cloaked in polite conversation through nuances of body language, behavior, and minimal dialogue. Subtitled and ambiguous in beginning and end, "My Father and I" was well received by both critics and public the public at large given allowances for subtitles. Recommended for French film fans into psychodramas. (B+)

Many French films over the decades have begun with a voice, with or without images, one of the characters, usually the protagonist, speaking directly to the audience. "Comment j'ai tué mon père" begins with a male voice speaking, over blank-screen credits, about the trials of late middle age. Since our only other info has been the film's first-person title, when the bearded speaker materializes we assume he's our protagonist. He's just young enough to have a living parent, maybe one about to die. When the camera pulls back to reveal the gerontologist listening, we see this secondary figure as a prop, a movie cliché. But a cut disillusions. The speaker will never reappear. It's the gerontologist's story.

Director Anne Fontaine's slight of hand continues throughout the film, so pervasively that it's difficult to go on here with giving away too much. It's far from only the gerontologist's story. At least three characters, not counting the opening speaker above, carry the point of view. Yet it's not "Rashomon." Perhaps appropriate in a film about aging, with a gerontologist dead center, the time line seldom wavers.

The French movie "Comment j'ai tué mon pèrr (2001)" was shown in the U.S. with the title, "How I Killed My Father", but is also known as "My Father and I." The film was co-written and directed by Anne Fontaine.

The movie stars Charles Berling, who portrays Jean-Luc, a successful gerontologist. (Successful in financial terms. He runs a boutique medical clinic for older people who can afford his fees, and who wish to retain their youthfulness.) He is very wealthy.

Jean-Luc has it all--a beautiful wife (Natacha Régnier), a beautiful mistress (Amira Casar), and the time and money to utilize the services of a prostitute when he chooses. He's not completely happy, because it's hard to juggle his time at the clinic and in all those bedrooms. Still, he's contented and satisfied in his own cold, aloof, way.

The plot begins with the arrival of his father, Maurice, played by the brilliant French actor Michel Bouquet. Maurice is also a physician. He has spent many years in Africa, which sounds noble. However, he simply walked out on his family when Jean- Luc and his brother were young. We gather from context that, even before he left, he didn't spend much time with his family. Maurice apparently did well enough in Africa until the government changed, when he was briefly imprisoned and then expelled from the country. Now he is in Versailles, observing and waiting.

Although there are many sub-plots, they all revolve around Jean-Luc. As the movie progresses, you begin to see that he's not only cold and aloof, but also manipulative and selfish. Maurice is no saint, but he's a better person than his son.

This isn't a film that you must find and see, but it definitely has some strengths, especially the acting by Berling and Bouquet. We saw it on an old VHS tape, and it worked well on the small screen.

This superb French film is at times so closed and contained, in spite of several outdoor scenes, that at times it comes close to being claustrophobic. This isn't a criticism;the same could be said of some of Bergman's great films. But, likes some of Bergman's films, its intensity can be overwhelming. I won't reveal much of the plot, but suffice it to say that it seems to be saying that, no matter what our achievements, for many if not most people, life is largely a matter of surviving, that is, surviving the damage inflicted in the early years, and minimizing the amount if damage we inflict on others. A masterful and painful film. 9/10

In 1997, Anne Fontaine made an idiosyncratic film named "Nettoyage à Sec" in which a mysterious young man, Loïc shattered the upstart world of a couple of dry cleaners. Miou-Miou acted the woman while Charles Berling was her husband. Four years later, the female filmmaker finds again her main actor for a very similar role and a film which resembles its 1997 companion.

Here, the disruptive element isn't a young man but an elderly one acted by Michel Bouquet in a mind-boggling performance. After many years spent in research in Africa, he unexpectedly resurfaces in France to pay a visit to his sons. Berling is a doctor who has everything to be happy: a private hospital that works well, a lascivious mansion and a lovely spouse (Natacha Régnier) and he even saved from distress his brother whom he hired as his chauffeur. Is this posh universe serendipitous? Bouquet's presence will reveal the other side of this lush scenery as well as many things about his past, Berling's and his brother's. A good proportion of these secrets have something eerie and are likely to explain the current situation.

As soon as Bouquet arrives, Anne Fontaine exudes an unnerving climate and keeps a low-key tonality to better capture a high disquiet. Rather than to deliver banal explanations that would have rushed the film towards miscarriage, she prefers to call upon the viewer's imagination and to let the unsaid prevail to interpret the numerous zones of shadow and ambiguity the characters have deep down inside them. What also cements her talent is that she eschews a good number of easy moments in which the characters' reactions would have been so predictable. Distance is her key word to shoot her characters and she sends away the father and his son without pronouncing in favor of either even if she has an ounce of sympathy at the tail end when they feel lost.

Once again, Michel Bouquet's acute look and ubiquity are to be praised. He just has to pronounce a cue with his hoarse voice to fill one sequence with intensity. Berling and Régnier are up to scratch him. With Marion Vernoux and a few other ones, Anne Fontaine may be the finest French female filmmaker of these last years. Perhaps one will just regret this detail: Bouquet sees his son again when the latter is at the peak of his success and invites the whole community at his home. This trick has been used many times before.