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Review Uploaded
09/13/02

1 hr. 40 mins.
Starring: Michel Bouquet, Charles Berling, Natacha Regnier, Stephane Guillon
Directed by: Anne Fontaine

Frank's film tip: This dastardly "Father" doesn't know best...and that's a good thing in French filmmaker Anne Fontaine's shocking dysfunctional drama "I Killed My Father"

In the disturbingly involving family dysfunctional drama “How I Killed My Father”, French director Anne Fontaine (“Dry Cleaning”) delivers an inspired portrait of male-ridden angst and the emotional blockage that accompanies this human condition. Although Fontaine’s exposition is occasionally long-winded at times, the filmmaker still manages to convey what is considered an exhilarating character study of familial indifference amongst painfully flawed individuals who seem to not be able to let go of the inner conflict caused by the withering effects of parental neglect. Granted, the subject matter regarding the psychological distance and distrust within the family circle is not exactly the most upbeat plotline that one can celebrate, but Fontaine is competent and honest enough to make “How I Killed My Father” an unflinching and cynically smart film.

In the posh Parisian suburb of Versailles, we meet an elitist top-notch doctor in the form of gerontologist Jean-Luc (Charles Berling) and his prize possession in the form of neglected desirable wife Isa (Natacha Regnier). For quite some time, the successful 40-year old Jean-Luc hasn’t been able to completely enjoy the comforts of his lavish lifestyle or his family for that matter. There’s a void that needs to be filled because it’s apparent that Jean-Luc has not been very happy for the longest of time. Also suffering from an absent-feeling heart is Jean-Luc’s less fortunate brother (Stephane Guillon). He too feels the same empty sentiment that somehow needs to be fulfilled.

We soon come to realize the reason for the malaise that the disillusioned siblings are experiencing. Unexpectedly out of the blue, the brothers’ estranged father Maurice (Michel Bouquet ) shows up on Jean-Luc’s doorstep with no where else to go. Evidently, Maurice had abandoned his young family years ago to practice medicine in Africa and never bothered returning home. And now after all those years of being away and enjoying his adventurous tendencies, Doctor Daddy has a nerve to show up destitute and delusional. Reluctantly, Jean-Luc opens his bourgeois doors to Maurice despite the deep-seeded resentment that he still harbors for his father’s misguided actions of yesteryear.

As Maurice makes himself cozy at the expense of a frustrated Jean-Luc, we start to witness the gradual breakdown in the icy relationship between the two men. While Jean-Luc paralyzes himself with vindictive thoughts about his father’s characteristic coldness still left over from the brothers’ childhood, Maurice has a grand old time making his presence known by playing heartless mind games for his own selfish entertainment.

Whether it’s suggestively coming on strong in terms of making flirtatious passes at Jean-Luc’s wife or infiltrating his son’s group dynamic of friends and associates, Maurice revels in the pure essence of being a celebrated nuisance. Thus we have to ask ourselves these pertinent questions: is Maurice simply going through a midlife crisis? (or in this case a senior moment?) Or is his continued actions a reflection of a man who’s completely lost and doesn’t know how to find himself? Maybe Maurice is just plain sick in the head?

Jean-Luc is basically at his wit’s end. His contempt for his wayward father is festering like an ugly rash. As if approaching these middle-age years weren’t enough, Jean-Luc has to be reminded of the deprived youthful years where Maurice never showed any true love or affection for his boys in the first place. In fact, Maurice even admits to his sons that there was no forced obligation for his love to be administered to them unconditionally. It’s safe to say that awfully blunt Maurice most likely wouldn’t make any Father of the Year ballots in France or anywhere else on the globe, huh?

“How I Killed My Father” is a delightfully smug and fearless examination of the deterioration of the family structure. The script is masterful when it uses its barbwire approach in the way it crassly has the protagonists jumping through complex hoops of despair. The contrast of the lead performances is devilishly realized. Berling’s tortured older son is absolutely a joy to witness because he’s a brooding soul who has never been able to empower himself mentally despite attaining other personal and professional accomplishments. And French cinema old pro Bouquet shines as the ribald rascal who refuses to show any remorse and would rather wallow in his own mischievousness than stand up and take responsibility for the lingering hurt that he’s caused his family and to a certain point…himself!

Fontaine’s penetrating fable is stark and durable yet snappy and gleefully impish in a strange, poetic way. They say that father knows best and in some instances, he probably does. But this particular “Father” only knows cruelty and his inability to emote any positive reinforcement. Hey, it works for us…

Frank rates this film: stars