Writer/director Florian Zeller cannot manage to reproduce the magic of “The Father” with his latest film, “The Son.” This latest screen adaptation of Zeller’s trilogy of stage plays about families falling apart, co-written with Englishman Christopher Hampton, expands its setting outside the limited confines of a single apartment – yet somehow manages to feel less cinematic. Without a clever conceit to elevate the material, this domestic drama is a mostly middling piece of maudlin manipulation.
Zeller does get a fair amount of mileage from the sheer thematic heft of the story, and that does count for something. Hugh Jackman’s prim and proper Peter thinks he’s finally got his life in order at the top of “The Son” with the arrival of a new infant courtesy of his new partner, Vanessa Kirby’s Beth. That delicate arrangement begins to shift with an unexpected knock on the door from his ex-wife, Laura Dern’s Kate, to tell him that his son from their marriage has started acting a bit off. Rather than treat the real issue of his underlying depression, Peter welcomes 17-year-old Nicholas (Zen McGrath) into his home following an extended period of post-divorce neglect.
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But try as Peter might, he cannot simply wish away Nicholas’ sadness with success. Though there’s some therapy in the mix, Peter also thinks he can fix his son with fancy signifiers like custom suits and some paternal hand-holding. The conversations in “The Son,” particularly between generations, are often cursory and circular. Yet that simplicity proves the point as the characters trade platitudes to push off the painful conversations they are too scared to have. Better to hide in pleasantry than face honesty, they wager. Time, aided by a little money and attention, is a traditional tonic within the upper-class New York enclaves in which they operate.
When the dialogue gets a bit dull, that’s when Zeller’s theatrical skill with character blocking comes into play. The film traces the outlines of a tragedy more than it actually fleshes one out, but “The Son” makes good use of its actors to sell its greatest asset: the thematic underpinnings of its source material. Rather than counting on the camera to create distance for the viewers, he tasks the performers with creating an emotional space within their physical surroundings. The arrangement of actors’ bodies adds tremendous depth without speaking a word, as does the occasionally inspired match cut that suggests connections beyond what can be contained within the frame.
Yet the family’s choices to avoid addressing the full extent of Nicholas’ physical self-abuse and psychological suffering ends up exacerbating the problem. Creeping clinical depression cares little for such an emotional treatment regimen. Nicholas’ rapid descent into the throes of suicidal tendencies poses a difficult dilemma surrounding the limits of parental power. Peter may not be able to love Nicholas and protect him at the same time, something he is not prepared to accept from his prideful perch.
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Whenever he presses his son on what’s wrong or how he can help, Peter insists on a logical response. But such an expectation might not be possible or practical for Nicholas’ inexplicable condition. This stridency ensures he’ll never receive an answer, just evasiveness. As the situation intensifies over the course of “The Son,” however, the vagueness gives way to loudness expressed in either complete emotional inarticulacy or completely on-the-nose diagnostic dialogue. Whichever mode Zeller decides to choose for a given moment, he supercharges it with mawkish music and dialed-up acting (particularly from the over-the-top McGrath).
Jackman’s measured performance as Peter shines the most out of the cast, primarily because he’s given the space to show the fantasy world of the perfect family he’s building in his head. Each pregnant pause or exasperated expression further illuminates his mounting dread and disappointment. His denial gives way to outright delusion, rendered all the more tragic by Jackman’s eerily even-keeled temperament. Yet the portrayal does not simply become monstrous because the actor always clues the audience into the growing chasm between the life he thinks he deserves and the one he inhabits.
Ultimately, the saddest element of “The Son” has little to do with the actual scenario (though Zeller certainly tries to elicit tears and terror with the devastating third act). The real tragedy is the larger cosmic irony that escapes the characters but not the creator. As Peter tries to break the cycle of paternal neglect he experienced from his own father (played by Anthony Hopkins in a brief but bravura appearance), his choices end up perpetuating it. Even when running in the opposite direction of the filial failings that marred his own life, the result varies little. His ailment of trying to swim upstream against the forces of fate might as well be hereditary.
Not unlike the brutal concluding sentiments conveyed in “The Father,” this existential cloud hanging over “The Son” carries more weight than anything said in the film. Yet this one casts a smaller shadow because Zeller does not find a clever reflection of his thematic content in the film’s construction. Without a visual or narrative gambit to elevate this sad story beyond a recounting of events, the film grasps for familiar cliches like a slightly destabilized camera or restlessly sitting up at the end of a bad to drive home its meaning.
There’s enough humanity from the story and performers alike that cuts to the soul and mostly offsets the uninspired direction. But “The Son” should shine at least a little brighter through the dark material given these participants and their previous triumphs. [B-]
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