An Enthralling Film

The current phrase du jour seems to be : ‘If you could see how sausages are made, you would never eat another sausage.’ In a way this saying can be applied to Father of My Children, as it shows the stresses and strains involved in the making (production) of films. It turns out to be a very complex process, with the need to juggle a dozen balls in the air at the one time.
One judgement would be that this film could likely never be made in Hollywood – it is too raw and intense (the intensity is added to by the need for the English sub-titles to work overtime).
I am particularly of a mind to compare it to Woody Allen’s facile and turgid Midnight in Paris, which is so American in tone and purports to show French culture but just drones on shoving a lot of American characters into the plot and leads on to a predictable saccharine ending. (As an aside, W Allen realises that people are jaded by his appearances – all mannerism, these days – so he gets around it by directing his main male actor as a clone of himself.)
This film, Father of My Children, shows a portion of French cultural production, but does it in a manner suitable for grown-ups who have the fortitude to take on board raw and subtle (sophisticated) adult themes.
The film is enthralling because it is like an octopus with tentacles that branch out in all sorts of directions as the film hints at subtly-introduced developments and engagements, showing a myriad of characters who find they must respond the best they can to quite sudden eventualities. This is a film about life – and it is a damned fine film too.