From now on, the three most iconic images of Anthony Hopkins shall be the following:
Mr. Stevens looking at Miss Kenton who has just wrestled a book away from him.
Hannibal Lector smelling the perfume on Clarice Starling.
Anthony screaming for his mom at the end of The Father.
God knows that last image could be the most devastating. There is something about that final scene in the nursing home that will haunt me for the rest of my life. It is what he says. It is what it feels like - in that room, at that moment. But above all, it is the visual image. Anthony Hopkins looking small in that close-up, an old man reduced to a sniveling child with this enormous head crying for all the branches and leaves that he is losing. Crying for his mom who is no longer there to save him. 'Overwhelming' would not even begin to cover it.
The Father is a powerful film. It lasts an hour and a half (a trifle by modern standards) but it feels longer than that. Not because it overstays its welcome or bores you to death - but, rather, due its gruesome subject matter. Inside the head of an old man overcome with dementia - it is things repeating themselves, piling on top of each other, crumbling down, blending together and starting anew. In fact, I can safely claim that never before had I got this close to understanding what it feels like to suffer from memory loss. The film gets you there - or, at the very least, it gets you as close to it as humanly possible.
And it is not just about dementia. The Father is about the old age and how much it feels like being stuck in a maze with each turn meaning less than the one before it. In a sense, the book it reminded me the most was The General In His Labyrinth by Gabriel García Márquez that explores the gradual unravelling of a sick but once strong man. Only, unlike the dying Simón Bolívar, Anthony does not even have a happy recollection to fall back on. Mostly, it is jumbled images and scenes that do not make sense and are not even supposed to make sense. The Father is hell on earth, and you never once forget it. The aftertaste, too, is bitter and I do not believe I have fully recovered from the experience.
Due to the fact that the whole film takes place in four or five rooms, The Father feels very claustrophobic. Much like Michael Haneke's Amour (comparisons are inevitable), the film is driven by the words and the acting. These are powerful words and superb acting. Aside from the usual suspects, I was really happy to see the smug grin on Rufus Sewell's face. Great actor. And a great film. Not the greatest and not even my favourite from 2020 (I absolutely loved First Cow), but everything else still pales in comparison.
