For almost two decades now, Florian Zeller has been at the vanguard of the theater world. He is considered one of the most talented playwrights of our time, nabbing numerous awards for such darkly comic plays as The Truth and The Height of the Storm. But it was Zeller’s 2012 play The Father that firmly established him as one of the brightest stars in theater. Of course, success on stage does not guarantee success on screen. And yet, Zeller’s directorial debut — an adaptation of that very same 2012 smash hit — is nominated in six categories at the 93rd Academy Awards, and remains one of the most acclaimed films of 2020. The Father is far from the first film to be adapted from a play, but it seems to have found particularly immediate success where others have not. Or has it?
Indeed, when stacked alongside similar cinematic adaptations of stage productions, including its own 2020 peer Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, Zeller’s debut stands out as stunningly innovative. Like its source material, the movie tells the story of Anthony (Anthony Hopkins) and his daughter Anne (Olivia Colman) as they adapt to Anthony’s worsening dementia. But a narrative summary is insufficient in detailing what The Father really is: a psychological thriller masquerading as a family drama. And whereas so many adaptations struggle to justify their own existence, The Father’s crisp framing and deceptive editing make you wonder how this story was ever told without cinema at its disposal. Scenes play out multiple times from different angles, minor details shifting in the process. One such example comes partway through the film, when Anne and her husband Paul (Rufus Sewell) fight over whether or not they should put Anthony in a retirement home. Anthony interrupts the fight, observes, and walks away. Soon, the fight plays out again with a slightly different outcome. This fight ultimately leads to Anne and Paul’s divorce, which was introduced much earlier in the film. Zeller’s complex layering of chronology disorients us as to when and where we truly are, approximating Anthony’s own experience. An anxiety-inducing score from Ludovico Einaudi heightens the stress of the situation, while deceptively simple production design threatens to lose viewers entirely. It’s all part of a quite confident display from a director so new to the medium. And yet, Zeller’s seeming mastery of the cinematic medium may also be his undoing. The writer-director is doing something undeniably ambitious with The Father, simulating his protagonist Anthony’s dementia via cinematic conventions. Of course, that same ambition puts The Father on a slippery slope, one that I am still trying to make sense of days after watching the film.
There has been very little indication of the film’s subversive nature in its marketing. Perhaps the shock of the film’s thriller trappings is part of its impact, yet I can’t help but imagine even broader success for The Father in a world where its poster doesn’t make it look like 2020’s most heartwarming rom-com. Because The Father is many things, but heartwarming is not one of them. It’s actually a quite chilling film, largely due to Anthony Hopkins’ heavy-duty performance. Co-stars Colman, Imogen Poots, and Mark Gattis are similarly excellent, but it is Hopkins who ultimately allows audiences to submit to Zeller’s labyrinthian fog of a film. It’s a brilliant performance in a career already filled with them. The 83-year-old flirts with horror, drama, and comedy all at once. He is, for all intents and purposes, acting in a different film from everyone else, just as Anthony is living a different reality from everyone else. The Father may prove overwhelming for viewers who are already familiar with dementia and its devastating impact, but that is only a further testament to the dizzying authenticity of Hopkins’ performance.
Fortunately, Hopkins’ award-worthy performance is enough to protect The Father’s slippery construction from unraveling. He holds the film down with an emotional weight that is surprisingly absent from the rest of Zeller’s direction. I hesitate to characterize The Father as exploitative in its relationship with aging and memory loss, although it does come dangerously close. Early in the film, Zeller pulls off his first bit of trickery. After an opening scene in which Anne and Anthony discuss their circumstances, we cut to the near future. Anne is nowhere to be found, particularly alarming considering Anthony has found a stranger (Mark Gattis) in his flat. He introduces himself as Paul, Anne’s husband. It’s a confusing assertion for Anthony and the audience alike. Aren’t Paul and Anne divorced? Isn’t this Anthony’s flat, not his daughter’s? Whereas so many similar films afford the audience a privileged position, The Father places us in Anthony’s shoes, messing with our knowledge and our memory just as his dementia does to him. It’s a powerful attempt to simulate the experience of memory loss, but is it successful?
Rather than simulate dementia via cinematic language, Zeller can only approximate it. He employs multiple actors to play the same character, who tend to deliver conflicting information. Such is the case with both Sewell and Gattis playing versions of Paul, but the dynamic is especially troubling when applied to Anne. One iteration of Anthony’s daughter may announce that she is leaving London for Paris, while another (Olivia Williams) might claim she never said such a thing. These moments are frustrating for both Anthony and for us as viewers. In this sense, they are effective in their ability to shift our perspective closer to Anthony’s. But, however unintentionally, they also compel viewers to “solve” The Father even when there is nothing to solve. The Father is not Memento. There is no major twist or mystery that needs to be deciphered, yet the film operates as if there might be. The film’s twists and turns do not serve any sort of narrative revelation, but its intrigue lies in the possibility that they might. Sure, there are some potentially interesting conclusions to be gleaned from Zeller’s tapestry of misdirections, but even those cannot be certain in a film projecting the nauseating uncertainty of old age onto the viewer. And to participate too gleefully in Zeller’s invitation to navigate Anthony’s decaying mind is to exploit the old man but not necessarily appreciate him.
Again, Zeller’s cast does enough to prevent The Father from offending, but the director still finds himself in a precarious position. Several narrative threads exist solely to confuse viewers, which proves increasingly frustrating over time. Obviously, experiencing dementia can be frustrating, for both the elderly and those around them. Zeller hopes to extend this frustration to his audience, and is undoubtedly successful in doing so. But can we really be expected to tolerate a 97-minute film that embraces frustration as its primary aim? If interacting with The Father feels inappropriate, letting it wash you over is outright grating. But this sets up quite a predicament for the film and its audience. On one hand, its disorienting narration encourages us to unpack and rearrange its chronology. Yet, following through on such efforts only distances us from the film’s core conceit. The Father is either a highly interactive or a highly sympathetic experience, but it is hard-pressed to be both.
An all-time great performance from Anthony Hopkins and some engrossing direction from Florian Zeller make The Father a worthwhile addition to the recent cinematic landscape. Still, the film’s construction threatens to undermine its very foundation, and makes Zeller’s debut hard to recommend to all but the most tolerant of viewers.
