Horror and Escapism: The Devastation of 'The Father'

"Lost all my leaves. Branches. Wind. Rain."

Providing a subtle portrayal of the mind’s painful fragmentation, aging is foregrounded through horror in Florian Zeller’s ‘The Father’. This is a simple story about an older man, Anthony (Anthony Hopkins), rejecting assistance from his daughter, Anne (Olivia Colman), as he starts suffering from symptoms of dementia. Yet, it is artfully told from his disorientated perspective, meaning that, at times, the film transforms into a ghost story, haunting and terrorising the audience with its acute focus on the brain’s deception. Near the film’s conclusion, the camera follows one of Anthony’s nightmares as he wanders out of his bedroom and into a hospital corridor. Exploring the rooms, he discovers his favourite daughter after a fatal accident, struggling for breath whilst hooked up to life support. Capturing Lucy’s (Imogen Poots) fear and panic as she splutters and writhes, this alarming moment brings the growing trepidation to a climax and confirms that the ‘The Father’ is not merely a kitchen-sink drama. Rejecting realism to highlight Anthony’s failure to properly comprehend the people around him and expose his vulnerability, the narrative is bewitching as it spins with repetitions of dialogue and muddlings of names and faces. Consistently losing his watch, the trope becomes emblematic of how time has run away from Anthony, slipping into a liminal experience of the everyday. Chronology is thrown into disarray as the film is defined by the fantastical, consciously playing cruel tricks on the viewer.

This claustrophobia is heightened by the film’s setting. Originally a play, ‘The Father’ is imbued with a sense of theatricality. As though it were filmed on a stage, the actors remain in one place: the confined walls of Anthony’s immaculate, modern apartment. Yet, furniture and decorations are moved or replaced throughout, drawing attention to the perpetually changing state of Anthony’s experiences. Cleverly distorting the simple interiors, watching the film becomes an unsettlingly uncanny experience and replicates the uncertainty and devastation as Anthony is overwhelmed by his dementia. Fundamentally, this film is all about escapism. But, this delirious reverie is not a pleasant one. The viewer escapes the ordinary to invade Anthony’s consciousness: a brutal realm far more unpleasant than their own reality.

Anthony is a diva. He parades around his apartment like a peacock. He tap dances to flaunt himself to his new carer and then belittles her when she relaxes, taunting her with his reminder that he is (at least in his mind) still in charge. Misbehaving, his refusal to be ruled stresses his stubbornness and impatience as his grip on reality becomes an unwinnable battle. Forcefully asserting himself in one instance and crying out for his mother in the next, his loneliness is harrowing as he cannot rationalise his emotions and experiences to loved ones. Hopkins’ performance is breathtaking. Winning Best Actor at the BAFTAs and the Academy Awards, his honest, respectful and emotionally devastating depiction of Anthony is a razor-sharp triumph.

A mix between a Charlie Kaufman and a Yorgos Lanthimos script, dialogue is sparse and precise, meaning that the story often communicates through silence or violence. A scene that has stayed with me includes when Anthony’s daughter Anne purposefully drops a mug onto the kitchen floor, smashing it. Uncovering her anguish and quiet ferocity, the moment is pivotal for developing Anne’s characterisation and hints at the profundity of her grief without saying anything at all. Yet, Anne’s grief does not end with her Father. She is also haunted by Lucy’s ghost both literally and metaphorically. The apartment is littered with Lucy’s artwork. Anthony repeatedly looks up to the pieces with adoration, ignoring the fact that she has passed away. The film thus becomes a jigsaw as the viewer fixes together fragmented clues to build a picture of the family’s past. Enveloped by ambiguity, answers are never clear-cut and identity is inconstant, proved when actors play multiple parts to mirror the splintered nature of Anthony’s mind. Stuck in his head, the fantasy is never lifted. Ultimately, the viewer cannot escape the film’s unyielding escapism, mimicking how it must feel to face dementia.

Click here for the Admiral Nurse Dementia support helpline.