I liked everything about this movie. I liked spending time with these characters, and the performances were spot on. I liked the moody aesthetic of the film, the music (I haven't heard "Nightshift" in YEARS!) and the cinematography fit beautifully. I liked how the relationships between the personalities gradually unfolded and revealed themselves. But the operative word here is "like." Although I can't find anything to criticize, I can't find anything that deserves exceptional praise either. It's a thoughtful movie, it's a nice movie... it's a good, solid understated drama. It just wasn't anything more than that. I often wondered if there was some subtext I wasn't picking up on, which is highly possible. For whatever reason, although I enjoyed it, it didn't leave much of an impression.
23 Reviews
A decent movie that rewards patience and attention
youllneverbe23 July 2009
Warning: Spoilers
"35 Rhums" (2008) Dir.: Claire Denis
'35 Rhums' is a slow, elliptical and deliberate film revolving around the four tenants of a house in what appears to be the greater Paris area. At its core are a father (Lionel) and his late-teenage daughter (Josephine), with the middle-aged taxi driver Gabrielle and the impulsive young Noe, living downstairs with his cat, rounding off a kind of extended family. They seem closer than your usual co-tenants and there's a suggested intimacy behind their functional and un-dramatic interactions, though this is all left unexplained for quite some time; indeed, so much so that it's tempting for the viewer to wonder if they've missed some crucial dialogue or failed to infer something that Claire Denis has intended them to. But this is a film that rewards not only patience but also a keen eye for behavioural detail. The realism of '35 Rhums' lies in its understatement of the relationships, shared histories, and occurrences (large and small) that make up the story. This is, I think, one of the finer points of the film, though it only became apparent upon further reflection.
Lionel is a train driver and his daughter is a student. The absence of a mother in the apartment is immediately clear but, like many other aspects of the film, the specifics are not elaborated on as part of the setup. Neither is the wistfulness of Gabrielle as she chain-smokes and awaits Lionel's return home from nights at work, where his co-worker Rene is depressed about his upcoming retirement. (We see that the colleagues are as close-knit as the tenants.) Noe is restless and muses on his tendency not to settle anywhere too long. In an amusing scene, he discovers his aged cat has died in her sleep and offhandedly decides to take a job in Angola because there's nothing to stick around for any longer. This upsets Josephine, and she takes off to Germany with her father for a few days.
All this occurs within a fairly short time frame, and in between we are shown glimpses of the unexplained histories that made the first half of the film a little vague. In fact, there is a particular scene where I felt that the movie really connected itself: Gabrielle's cab breaks down on the way to a concert, and the four co-tenants are sheltered from a rainstorm in an empty bar. Resigned to the evening's ruined plans, they eat and drink away, and over this long set piece all the hints and glances and suggestions of the preceding scenes are brought together and made into something tenable.
From here, '35 Rhums' leads us successfully through moments of comedy, tragedy and finality. Crucially, it never changes its pace or its observational filming style after this point. To do so would cheapen the tone of the introductory hour, and be rather jarring at that. It reaches its end without any great resolution, which could be seen as a weakness by anyone still expecting a traditional climax by this stage. But if you're already this far into the film (and this review), that probably doesn't apply to you. We are left to assume that the characters' lives simply go on, though not unchanged by certain events and discoveries that I won't spoil for anyone here.
The impression I came away with is that '35 Rhums' is an intimate film about the culmination of people, events of the past and present, and how these can close off little chapters of our lives and sometimes go unnoticed. It is not for everyone, and it is definitely not flawless - there's some dangling symbolism to do with rice cookers (yup, you read right), and I can't work out if Claire Denis is trying to make a social point with the virtually all-black casting. Aside from a short scene at the university where students are discussing the Third World debt, it seems to be entirely incidental (which, in turn, makes the dialogue in that scene appear incidental also). But my knowledge of urban French societal make-up is nil, so I can't comment further. It is essentially a decent and touching work, very well acted and captured, and if you have patience and aren't averse to a definite French style, then it could be your kind of movie.
'35 Rhums' is a slow, elliptical and deliberate film revolving around the four tenants of a house in what appears to be the greater Paris area. At its core are a father (Lionel) and his late-teenage daughter (Josephine), with the middle-aged taxi driver Gabrielle and the impulsive young Noe, living downstairs with his cat, rounding off a kind of extended family. They seem closer than your usual co-tenants and there's a suggested intimacy behind their functional and un-dramatic interactions, though this is all left unexplained for quite some time; indeed, so much so that it's tempting for the viewer to wonder if they've missed some crucial dialogue or failed to infer something that Claire Denis has intended them to. But this is a film that rewards not only patience but also a keen eye for behavioural detail. The realism of '35 Rhums' lies in its understatement of the relationships, shared histories, and occurrences (large and small) that make up the story. This is, I think, one of the finer points of the film, though it only became apparent upon further reflection.
Lionel is a train driver and his daughter is a student. The absence of a mother in the apartment is immediately clear but, like many other aspects of the film, the specifics are not elaborated on as part of the setup. Neither is the wistfulness of Gabrielle as she chain-smokes and awaits Lionel's return home from nights at work, where his co-worker Rene is depressed about his upcoming retirement. (We see that the colleagues are as close-knit as the tenants.) Noe is restless and muses on his tendency not to settle anywhere too long. In an amusing scene, he discovers his aged cat has died in her sleep and offhandedly decides to take a job in Angola because there's nothing to stick around for any longer. This upsets Josephine, and she takes off to Germany with her father for a few days.
All this occurs within a fairly short time frame, and in between we are shown glimpses of the unexplained histories that made the first half of the film a little vague. In fact, there is a particular scene where I felt that the movie really connected itself: Gabrielle's cab breaks down on the way to a concert, and the four co-tenants are sheltered from a rainstorm in an empty bar. Resigned to the evening's ruined plans, they eat and drink away, and over this long set piece all the hints and glances and suggestions of the preceding scenes are brought together and made into something tenable.
From here, '35 Rhums' leads us successfully through moments of comedy, tragedy and finality. Crucially, it never changes its pace or its observational filming style after this point. To do so would cheapen the tone of the introductory hour, and be rather jarring at that. It reaches its end without any great resolution, which could be seen as a weakness by anyone still expecting a traditional climax by this stage. But if you're already this far into the film (and this review), that probably doesn't apply to you. We are left to assume that the characters' lives simply go on, though not unchanged by certain events and discoveries that I won't spoil for anyone here.
The impression I came away with is that '35 Rhums' is an intimate film about the culmination of people, events of the past and present, and how these can close off little chapters of our lives and sometimes go unnoticed. It is not for everyone, and it is definitely not flawless - there's some dangling symbolism to do with rice cookers (yup, you read right), and I can't work out if Claire Denis is trying to make a social point with the virtually all-black casting. Aside from a short scene at the university where students are discussing the Third World debt, it seems to be entirely incidental (which, in turn, makes the dialogue in that scene appear incidental also). But my knowledge of urban French societal make-up is nil, so I can't comment further. It is essentially a decent and touching work, very well acted and captured, and if you have patience and aren't averse to a definite French style, then it could be your kind of movie.
Complex drama that mirrors Ozu
tomgillespie20023 May 2011
Claire Denis' 35 Shots Of Rum is a sombre and humane look at a quartet of Parisians who experience loneliness, isolation and disconnection. Lionel (Alex Descas) is a train driver who lives with his daughter Josephine (Mati Diop). He has a seemingly casual relationship with taxi driver Gabrielle (Nicole Dogue) who seems invested in the relationship to a much greater degree than Lionel. And Noe (Gregoire Colin) who lives alone with his cat seems to have an interest in Josephine. The trouble is that all these characters are so wrapped up in their own loneliness, they fail to communicate with one another.
They are so wrapped up, however, that it takes their car to break down in the rain for them to open up to each other. Whether this is a good thing or not is a different question. Denis shoots the film in a desolate manner that has a complete (and fitting) lack of flair, which is a direct metaphor for the characters emotional emptiness. Claire Denis has named Japanese master Yasijuro Ozu as a main influence for the film, and it is quite obvious. The quiet, restrained dignity of Lionel, and the almost silent exchanges between the characters mirror Ozu's classics Late Spring and Tokyo Story. The film can be slow at time, but stick with it and it is richly rewarding. A complex film that is powerfully acted.
www.the-wrath-of-blog.blogspot.com
They are so wrapped up, however, that it takes their car to break down in the rain for them to open up to each other. Whether this is a good thing or not is a different question. Denis shoots the film in a desolate manner that has a complete (and fitting) lack of flair, which is a direct metaphor for the characters emotional emptiness. Claire Denis has named Japanese master Yasijuro Ozu as a main influence for the film, and it is quite obvious. The quiet, restrained dignity of Lionel, and the almost silent exchanges between the characters mirror Ozu's classics Late Spring and Tokyo Story. The film can be slow at time, but stick with it and it is richly rewarding. A complex film that is powerfully acted.
www.the-wrath-of-blog.blogspot.com
One of Denis' best films
howard.schumann26 October 2009
In French director Claire Denis' 35 Shots of Rum, the world becomes, in author Sharon Salzberg's phrase, "transparent and illuminated, as though lit from within". It is a film of infinite tenderness in which the characters lives are delicately interwoven to build a tapestry of interconnectedness that signals life's inevitable passages. Reminiscent of Hou Hsiao-hsien's Café Lumiére with its intimate depiction of city life and the coming and going of trains, 35 Shots of Rum pays homage to Yasujiro Ozu in its story of the relationship between Lionel (Alex Descas), a train conductor of African descent whose striking features convey a sense of stoic dignity and his student daughter Josephine (Mati Diop) who is eager to assert her independence.
Like the relationship of Chishu Ryu and Setsuko Hara in Ozu's films, the focus is on the mundane occurrences of everyday life, the quiet intimacies in which meaning is revealed only by implication. While the characters are black, their lives are comfortably middle class and the only suggestion of racial issues is a classroom scene where Jo talks about how "the global South" is indebted to the industrial north. Set to a lovely score by the British band "Tindersticks" and gloriously choreographed by cinematographer Agnes Godard, the film opens with a ten minute montage of the crisscrossing of trains of the RER, the system that connects Paris to its suburbs.
Interspersed are close-up shots of Josephine, Lionel, and his co-worker René (Julieth Mars Toussaint) whose immanent retirement signals a depressing change in his life. As the scene shifts to a small Paris apartment, like a married couple, Lionel and Josephine settle into a domestic routine of cooking, cleaning, and showering, their relationship of father and daughter not made clear until we see a photograph of a younger Jo and her German mother. This initial opaqueness seems to pervade a film that relies on the viewer to fill in the blanks. It is clear from the outset, however, that Lionel is dependent on his daughter and fears her eventual departure.
Although he tells her reassuringly, "Don't feel I need to be looked after Just feel free", he also lets her know her that "We have everything here. Why go looking elsewhere?" His happiness is threatened by upstairs neighbor Noé (Gregoire Colin), a scruffy-looking young man who lives with his cat and does not hide his feelings for Jo even while vowing to move to Gabon for a job. We are also introduced to Gabrielle (Nicole Dogué), a taxi driver who is attached to Lionel and may have been his lover. This unlikely quartet form an extended family and their deep seated feelings for each other are revealed in an illuminating scene in a café after their car breaks down in route to a concert.
Lionel's conflicted feelings about his daughter's growing up become apparent when the intimate dance between father and daughter to the song "Night Shift" by the Commodores is interrupted by Noé who cuts in and immediately ups the romantic ante. Lionel's jealousy is also reflected by Gabrielle shortly afterwards as she watches Lionel dancing with the café's attractive hostess. In an unexpected trip to Germany to visit a friend (or sister) of Jo's late mother's, the inner lives of the characters and the bonds that hold them together are further explored, although little happens on the surface.
To say that 35 Shots of Rum is a film of mystery belies the fact that it is also quite accessible though in a very rich and subtle way. Its achievement lies in its ability to create memorable characters and fully involve us in their lives without relying on extended conflict, outward displays of emotion, or even a coherent narrative, drawing its power from its creation of magic through silences, glances, and a loving warmth that lingers in the memory. It is one of Denis' best films.
Like the relationship of Chishu Ryu and Setsuko Hara in Ozu's films, the focus is on the mundane occurrences of everyday life, the quiet intimacies in which meaning is revealed only by implication. While the characters are black, their lives are comfortably middle class and the only suggestion of racial issues is a classroom scene where Jo talks about how "the global South" is indebted to the industrial north. Set to a lovely score by the British band "Tindersticks" and gloriously choreographed by cinematographer Agnes Godard, the film opens with a ten minute montage of the crisscrossing of trains of the RER, the system that connects Paris to its suburbs.
Interspersed are close-up shots of Josephine, Lionel, and his co-worker René (Julieth Mars Toussaint) whose immanent retirement signals a depressing change in his life. As the scene shifts to a small Paris apartment, like a married couple, Lionel and Josephine settle into a domestic routine of cooking, cleaning, and showering, their relationship of father and daughter not made clear until we see a photograph of a younger Jo and her German mother. This initial opaqueness seems to pervade a film that relies on the viewer to fill in the blanks. It is clear from the outset, however, that Lionel is dependent on his daughter and fears her eventual departure.
Although he tells her reassuringly, "Don't feel I need to be looked after Just feel free", he also lets her know her that "We have everything here. Why go looking elsewhere?" His happiness is threatened by upstairs neighbor Noé (Gregoire Colin), a scruffy-looking young man who lives with his cat and does not hide his feelings for Jo even while vowing to move to Gabon for a job. We are also introduced to Gabrielle (Nicole Dogué), a taxi driver who is attached to Lionel and may have been his lover. This unlikely quartet form an extended family and their deep seated feelings for each other are revealed in an illuminating scene in a café after their car breaks down in route to a concert.
Lionel's conflicted feelings about his daughter's growing up become apparent when the intimate dance between father and daughter to the song "Night Shift" by the Commodores is interrupted by Noé who cuts in and immediately ups the romantic ante. Lionel's jealousy is also reflected by Gabrielle shortly afterwards as she watches Lionel dancing with the café's attractive hostess. In an unexpected trip to Germany to visit a friend (or sister) of Jo's late mother's, the inner lives of the characters and the bonds that hold them together are further explored, although little happens on the surface.
To say that 35 Shots of Rum is a film of mystery belies the fact that it is also quite accessible though in a very rich and subtle way. Its achievement lies in its ability to create memorable characters and fully involve us in their lives without relying on extended conflict, outward displays of emotion, or even a coherent narrative, drawing its power from its creation of magic through silences, glances, and a loving warmth that lingers in the memory. It is one of Denis' best films.
Claire Denis' take on Separation
incitatus-org22 April 2009
The quiet Lionel (played by the cool Alex Descas) lives with his grown up daughter Joséphine (newcomer Mati Diop) in a comfortable, albeit somewhat sterile, grey, contemporary apartment in a Parisian suburb. Life has unfortunately taken away Lionel's wife, and left the two-person family in a state of tranquil solitude, where the father and daughter lean on each other in the big wide world. This outside world is there, as their entourage, but they keep it at bay. Lionel knows they can not continue living like that indefinitely, and one day he will have to let his daughter go, to live her own life, but silently he hopes that that day will be far off. When their upstairs neighbour Noé, who has always been there, announces that he will leave, Joséphine gets angry. It is at that moment that she too realises that the world around her can not be forever frozen. It is time to look ahead.
The small family is running on a borrowed time, but happy to be together while they still can. They are compared to Gabrielle, the family friend, who lives in hope and the afore mentioned neighbour Noé, who lives, disorientated, in painful past of his parents' death. Both of them cling to Lionel and Joséphine for their stability, for the calm love they share. As a viewer, you can not help but feel that Lionel "should" be living with Gabrielle and Joséphine with Noé, as that would be a more natural state than a grown-up girl living with her father. But of course, there are no rules to who who should be living with who. Or are there? When Lionel and Joséphine look to their future, what do they see? This in between state, at the end of the close-knit family life and the starting of your own, is the playing field of the film. 35 Rhums, is a very slow movie with a close attention to detail, reminiscent of Claire Denis' Vendredi Soir. We see what is going on, through the actions of the characters, leaving very little to be said. The consequence of such an approach is that you have to slow down the pace, to allow the audience time to take in those details. There lies the risk, and although I was taken in by characters, the "normal" gestures or running of the train through the urban landscape scenes are a little too customary to warrant such an exposure. Whether or not this will bother you is hard to judge, but you will need to be a bit indulgent.
Racially, the movie is quite a curiosity. Lionel is black and his wife was white so their daughter, evidently, is métis. So far all is normal. Joséphine's love interest and upstairs neighbour Noé is white. The family friend Gabrielle looks Caribbean. Still fine. Then we get to see his colleagues at the railways, the SNCF, and they are all black! Is there an SNCF line which hires only staff of African or Caribbean descent? Not very likely. And then there is Joséphine's university: the professor and all the students are black! Not even at the university of Martinique, where most people are black, is it an easy feat to write yourself in for a course where not a single white or other raced student has written himself in. What is the point of this bizarre image? Even if they were part of some community (e.g. Caribbean), then that would make more sense showing it in opposition to another French community (say mainstream or Chinese) rather then an artificial submersion. But they are not part of a subculture (no more than their own individuality) nor are the SNCF colleagues or the students. It is a strange touch which is unrealistic and seemingly without purpose.
Overall 35 Rhums is a carefully crafted film well worth its time, despite its weaknesses. Make sure you are not tired when you go it, to be able to take in the rhythm, as you are taken along the tracks in the Parisian behind-the-scenes. Lionel and Joséphine will linger with you long after the lights are back on.
The small family is running on a borrowed time, but happy to be together while they still can. They are compared to Gabrielle, the family friend, who lives in hope and the afore mentioned neighbour Noé, who lives, disorientated, in painful past of his parents' death. Both of them cling to Lionel and Joséphine for their stability, for the calm love they share. As a viewer, you can not help but feel that Lionel "should" be living with Gabrielle and Joséphine with Noé, as that would be a more natural state than a grown-up girl living with her father. But of course, there are no rules to who who should be living with who. Or are there? When Lionel and Joséphine look to their future, what do they see? This in between state, at the end of the close-knit family life and the starting of your own, is the playing field of the film. 35 Rhums, is a very slow movie with a close attention to detail, reminiscent of Claire Denis' Vendredi Soir. We see what is going on, through the actions of the characters, leaving very little to be said. The consequence of such an approach is that you have to slow down the pace, to allow the audience time to take in those details. There lies the risk, and although I was taken in by characters, the "normal" gestures or running of the train through the urban landscape scenes are a little too customary to warrant such an exposure. Whether or not this will bother you is hard to judge, but you will need to be a bit indulgent.
Racially, the movie is quite a curiosity. Lionel is black and his wife was white so their daughter, evidently, is métis. So far all is normal. Joséphine's love interest and upstairs neighbour Noé is white. The family friend Gabrielle looks Caribbean. Still fine. Then we get to see his colleagues at the railways, the SNCF, and they are all black! Is there an SNCF line which hires only staff of African or Caribbean descent? Not very likely. And then there is Joséphine's university: the professor and all the students are black! Not even at the university of Martinique, where most people are black, is it an easy feat to write yourself in for a course where not a single white or other raced student has written himself in. What is the point of this bizarre image? Even if they were part of some community (e.g. Caribbean), then that would make more sense showing it in opposition to another French community (say mainstream or Chinese) rather then an artificial submersion. But they are not part of a subculture (no more than their own individuality) nor are the SNCF colleagues or the students. It is a strange touch which is unrealistic and seemingly without purpose.
Overall 35 Rhums is a carefully crafted film well worth its time, despite its weaknesses. Make sure you are not tired when you go it, to be able to take in the rhythm, as you are taken along the tracks in the Parisian behind-the-scenes. Lionel and Joséphine will linger with you long after the lights are back on.
People moving together and apart: Claire Denis weaving her subtle spell
Chris Knipp18 February 2009
Warning: Spoilers
Alex Descas ('Late August, Early September,' 'Boarding Gate') stars with Denis perennial favorite the ('Variety'says) "sexy, soulful" Grégoire Colin; plus Mati Diop, Nicole Dogue, and Jean-Christophe Folly in a deceptively simple-seeming film about a group of apartment neighbors and coworkers, mostly black. Lionel (Descas), an RER train conductor, has raised his daughter Josephine (Diop) alone since she was a little girl. She's grown up now, a student at the faculty of anthropology who works in a music shop. They live together as a couple, each caring more for the other than for anybody else but increasingly realizing this doesn't make sense any more. Neighbor and ex-girlfriend Gabrielle (Dogue) still evidently hankers after Lionel. Noé (Colin), also down the hall, lives in the cluttered apartment of his deceased parents, goes on long rips, and hankers after Jo. They're all stuck. And all very close to each other.
The engines of the plot are the retirement of one of Lionel's longtime coworkers and friends; a party; a missed concert; a bad storm; a funeral; and the death of Noé's 17-year-old cat.
Denis' special touch shows in her handling of family intimacy, the way a routine event can suddenly shift into a life-changing moment. The apartment block seems ordinary and mundane but the relationships resonate from the first shots. A car that breaks down in the rain leads to a party in a closed bar with music that lights up the theater. A long stare into a woman's eyes speaks volumes. A pair are jogging on a wet day and the guy jumps in the river on a whim. His cat dies and Noé decides to move to Gabon. And an extra rice cooker taken out of its box means a new start. Almost everything is communicated with faces and very little exposition or dialogue.
It's interesting how the chameleon Grégoire Colin blends in with the black people. His own face seems stained and tawny, his look gypsy-like and sly. He slips in and out of some of Denis' films almost casually, seemingly unnecessary yet essential, mysterious yet making them more real. Here he reappears at the end almost phantom-like, after he seemed to have left. Music, rain, trains, and a motorcycle become symbols of change.
After the group has been established, especially the intimacy between Lionel and Jo, comes the retirement of fellow trainman René (Julieth Mars Toussaint), which leads to the "35 rum shots" evening--but Lionel stops short, saying the occasion doesn't warrant going to the whole 35. René is sad and lost without his work to define him. He speaks grimly of living to 100, but will come to a tragic end after appearing alone at a bar the group frequents and taking a sad ride in an RER engine car with Lionel.
Then comes the concert, the car breakdown, and the impromptu, and wonderful, party in the bar the group persuades the owners to reopen. There are jealousies--Lionel's disapproval of Noé's intimate dancing with Jo; Gabrielle's of Lionel's dancing with the beautiful café owner (Adele Ado); but the warmth of the group is confirmed in this subtle, intense sequence.
Sequences in which Jo disputes socio-political issues and Franz Fanon in a university class and is approached by fellow student Ruben (Jean-Christophe Folly) at the music shop (he invites her too late to the concert and gives her a romantic bouquet with a note) are a bit more artificial and expository but help show Jo'e developing life away from her father. There's also a trip to Germany that shows who Lionel's wife (and Jo's mother) was. But this is explanation that only shows us how much we don't know.
Denis mostly, as usual, makes us do the work, but the job isn't as tricky or complicated as in her previous (and remarkable) 'The Intruder.' This film seems like the essence of what good contemporary French film-making is about: the subtle surface, the hidden depths behind ordinary appearances, the shifting amber lights in soft dawns and sunsets by Denis' consummate DP Agnes Godard; the rain, the warm café. I'm indebted to the review by 'Variety's' Jay Weisberg for pointing out that the original music is by the Tindersticks, and the enveloping song in the bar is the Commodores' "Nightshift"; and he also points wisely to the importance of Judy Shrewsbury's costume designs, which are notably lovely in the case of Adel Ado's dark red dress in the bar and the white sheath-like one worn by Mati Diop for a funeral--the occasion when Lionel finally drinks the 35 shots of rum.
'35 Shots of Rum'/'35 Rhums' opens in Paris February 19, 2009; part of the Rendez-Vous with French Cinema at Lincoln Center, New York, March 2009. Raves from some of the French print sources that count most: 'Libération,' 'Le Monde,' 'Le Point,' 'Cahiers du Cinéma,' 'Les Inrockuptibles.'
The engines of the plot are the retirement of one of Lionel's longtime coworkers and friends; a party; a missed concert; a bad storm; a funeral; and the death of Noé's 17-year-old cat.
Denis' special touch shows in her handling of family intimacy, the way a routine event can suddenly shift into a life-changing moment. The apartment block seems ordinary and mundane but the relationships resonate from the first shots. A car that breaks down in the rain leads to a party in a closed bar with music that lights up the theater. A long stare into a woman's eyes speaks volumes. A pair are jogging on a wet day and the guy jumps in the river on a whim. His cat dies and Noé decides to move to Gabon. And an extra rice cooker taken out of its box means a new start. Almost everything is communicated with faces and very little exposition or dialogue.
It's interesting how the chameleon Grégoire Colin blends in with the black people. His own face seems stained and tawny, his look gypsy-like and sly. He slips in and out of some of Denis' films almost casually, seemingly unnecessary yet essential, mysterious yet making them more real. Here he reappears at the end almost phantom-like, after he seemed to have left. Music, rain, trains, and a motorcycle become symbols of change.
After the group has been established, especially the intimacy between Lionel and Jo, comes the retirement of fellow trainman René (Julieth Mars Toussaint), which leads to the "35 rum shots" evening--but Lionel stops short, saying the occasion doesn't warrant going to the whole 35. René is sad and lost without his work to define him. He speaks grimly of living to 100, but will come to a tragic end after appearing alone at a bar the group frequents and taking a sad ride in an RER engine car with Lionel.
Then comes the concert, the car breakdown, and the impromptu, and wonderful, party in the bar the group persuades the owners to reopen. There are jealousies--Lionel's disapproval of Noé's intimate dancing with Jo; Gabrielle's of Lionel's dancing with the beautiful café owner (Adele Ado); but the warmth of the group is confirmed in this subtle, intense sequence.
Sequences in which Jo disputes socio-political issues and Franz Fanon in a university class and is approached by fellow student Ruben (Jean-Christophe Folly) at the music shop (he invites her too late to the concert and gives her a romantic bouquet with a note) are a bit more artificial and expository but help show Jo'e developing life away from her father. There's also a trip to Germany that shows who Lionel's wife (and Jo's mother) was. But this is explanation that only shows us how much we don't know.
Denis mostly, as usual, makes us do the work, but the job isn't as tricky or complicated as in her previous (and remarkable) 'The Intruder.' This film seems like the essence of what good contemporary French film-making is about: the subtle surface, the hidden depths behind ordinary appearances, the shifting amber lights in soft dawns and sunsets by Denis' consummate DP Agnes Godard; the rain, the warm café. I'm indebted to the review by 'Variety's' Jay Weisberg for pointing out that the original music is by the Tindersticks, and the enveloping song in the bar is the Commodores' "Nightshift"; and he also points wisely to the importance of Judy Shrewsbury's costume designs, which are notably lovely in the case of Adel Ado's dark red dress in the bar and the white sheath-like one worn by Mati Diop for a funeral--the occasion when Lionel finally drinks the 35 shots of rum.
'35 Shots of Rum'/'35 Rhums' opens in Paris February 19, 2009; part of the Rendez-Vous with French Cinema at Lincoln Center, New York, March 2009. Raves from some of the French print sources that count most: 'Libération,' 'Le Monde,' 'Le Point,' 'Cahiers du Cinéma,' 'Les Inrockuptibles.'
ordinarily spellbinding
sandover9 June 2009
I wish I could pin down Claire Denis' charisma. Watching in a row her 1994 'Je n'ai pas sommeil' and this one, there are some quasi-generic features that help defining what it is about Claire Denis.
All in all I sympathize with the opinion of the viewer who said this is a heartfelt dissection of familial ties. I thought the comment was succinct.
And yet the reviewer who said the new rice boiler was a new start and the funeral at the ending was sufficient occasion for the 35 rhums theory to be 'celebrated' by Lionel, was the one who made me start. I am not at all sure that the new rice boiler stands for new beginnings. And while the end turns around an occasion of mourning, I was under the impression that what is depicted yet never shown was Jo's wedding: her white dress, her mother's necklace, the furtive clad-as-groom appearance of Noe hesitating in front of the two doors, etc, mark for me, although this can be a total mistake, a familiar Denis device: nothing is as it seems, and that means that.
Let me explain a bit my remark. Denis is an economist by formation. What does economy in Denis' film account for, ultimately? And this makes me go back to my preliminary question, that is, What is it about Claire Denis? Oscillating between a somewhat anthropological b-movie, with its clinical, sometimes random like a jotting, drab shots of ordinary time (preparing food, consuming it -note the remarkable scene of three people in a row, in the kitchen, eating standing a silent, quick meal- the repetitive routes of suburban trains etc) and its elated reverse, sudden side with small scale yet condensed and beautiful though emotionally complex rituals (notably the dance in the bar sequence)that seemingly discharges packed-up emotion and pressure from the unexplained portions of raw, elliptical meaning. There may be an overt tone of post-colonial discourse, she may even have detested her studies, it may smell like a b-movie, or, bluntly, like another introvert-and-what-the-fuss-about french film, but I think it demands a very strong hold to tackle with understatement and finesse the issues, the faces, the spaces and the tissues of human economy, rubbing shoulders with the imperceptible and the unsaid.
Aside procedures in the film, and I mean by aside non-cinematic ones, highlight what is going on, more to the spirit of the auteur. Take in the opening credits the way the names of the actors appear: all in three rows, watermarked, and then highlighted, appearing like noon-ghosts; or Tindersticks' score: in the beginning the Messian-like onde mazenot throws a note of otherworldliness, only to be dismissed by a almost naive, post-colonial (sic) subdued, carousel music, that weave together at the end in a defying way, as in general the music slides in and out of the film, casually and perplexedly, not frightfully important yet - yet...
nothing is as it seems, weighs down its cliché. And that is that, the tautologies that are offered in the film, like the father's stubborn silence (what a perfect silence!), cannot, in the end be humanized into clichés. A neighbor who is a lover, or was one, a missing, an absent, a dead parent, or an all too present one, centrifugal urges to leave this way of life, because ghosts overpopulate the seemingly tepid urban scenery, a friend and a colleague who leaves his job and encounters death, the encounter of life-as-promise, ties who are untied or untidy, all this is loose and shiny, even in the autumnal Parisian light, and maybe, narratively, they leak out as everyday clichés, the way one takes the train. Unless they drink 35 rhums.
All in all I sympathize with the opinion of the viewer who said this is a heartfelt dissection of familial ties. I thought the comment was succinct.
And yet the reviewer who said the new rice boiler was a new start and the funeral at the ending was sufficient occasion for the 35 rhums theory to be 'celebrated' by Lionel, was the one who made me start. I am not at all sure that the new rice boiler stands for new beginnings. And while the end turns around an occasion of mourning, I was under the impression that what is depicted yet never shown was Jo's wedding: her white dress, her mother's necklace, the furtive clad-as-groom appearance of Noe hesitating in front of the two doors, etc, mark for me, although this can be a total mistake, a familiar Denis device: nothing is as it seems, and that means that.
Let me explain a bit my remark. Denis is an economist by formation. What does economy in Denis' film account for, ultimately? And this makes me go back to my preliminary question, that is, What is it about Claire Denis? Oscillating between a somewhat anthropological b-movie, with its clinical, sometimes random like a jotting, drab shots of ordinary time (preparing food, consuming it -note the remarkable scene of three people in a row, in the kitchen, eating standing a silent, quick meal- the repetitive routes of suburban trains etc) and its elated reverse, sudden side with small scale yet condensed and beautiful though emotionally complex rituals (notably the dance in the bar sequence)that seemingly discharges packed-up emotion and pressure from the unexplained portions of raw, elliptical meaning. There may be an overt tone of post-colonial discourse, she may even have detested her studies, it may smell like a b-movie, or, bluntly, like another introvert-and-what-the-fuss-about french film, but I think it demands a very strong hold to tackle with understatement and finesse the issues, the faces, the spaces and the tissues of human economy, rubbing shoulders with the imperceptible and the unsaid.
Aside procedures in the film, and I mean by aside non-cinematic ones, highlight what is going on, more to the spirit of the auteur. Take in the opening credits the way the names of the actors appear: all in three rows, watermarked, and then highlighted, appearing like noon-ghosts; or Tindersticks' score: in the beginning the Messian-like onde mazenot throws a note of otherworldliness, only to be dismissed by a almost naive, post-colonial (sic) subdued, carousel music, that weave together at the end in a defying way, as in general the music slides in and out of the film, casually and perplexedly, not frightfully important yet - yet...
nothing is as it seems, weighs down its cliché. And that is that, the tautologies that are offered in the film, like the father's stubborn silence (what a perfect silence!), cannot, in the end be humanized into clichés. A neighbor who is a lover, or was one, a missing, an absent, a dead parent, or an all too present one, centrifugal urges to leave this way of life, because ghosts overpopulate the seemingly tepid urban scenery, a friend and a colleague who leaves his job and encounters death, the encounter of life-as-promise, ties who are untied or untidy, all this is loose and shiny, even in the autumnal Parisian light, and maybe, narratively, they leak out as everyday clichés, the way one takes the train. Unless they drink 35 rhums.
Ozu and Denis, Two Perspectives of a Father-Daughter Relationship
galen80004 May 2021
Claire Denis' 35 Shots of Rum is a poignant piece of cinema about the intimacy of a father and a daughter. They know they should part ways but leaving each other is emotionally challenging for both. On the other side, both have suiters awaiting on the margin, struggling with loneliness and unfulfilled desire.
In the background, we have an alternative view of Paris, a distorted, dirty, and ugly city. Most of the characters are colored, and they were simmering with revolutionary ideas and thwarted hopes.
The film lacks a coherent narrative. It's more like a distant view of family life at a random period. We don't know much about either Lionel, the father, or his daughter Josephine, but we could infer many things from their glances and the way they touch each other. What's connecting about them is their simplicity, charm, and ambiguous charisma, which is why they only find fulfillment in each other. Their lovers - Gabrielle and Noe - seem like outsiders, and they lack the vague aura of father and daughter.
I wouldn't say I liked the movie that much, although I appreciated the masterful camera work, the elegant pace, the implicit emotional tension, and the powerful performance of the actors. It's an excellent film, but something was lacking, which is probably fervor and warmth. Ozu tackled the same issue of father-daughter attachment, yet Ozu's picture has a glow, a depth of feeling and intimacy that transcends the subject.
In the background, we have an alternative view of Paris, a distorted, dirty, and ugly city. Most of the characters are colored, and they were simmering with revolutionary ideas and thwarted hopes.
The film lacks a coherent narrative. It's more like a distant view of family life at a random period. We don't know much about either Lionel, the father, or his daughter Josephine, but we could infer many things from their glances and the way they touch each other. What's connecting about them is their simplicity, charm, and ambiguous charisma, which is why they only find fulfillment in each other. Their lovers - Gabrielle and Noe - seem like outsiders, and they lack the vague aura of father and daughter.
I wouldn't say I liked the movie that much, although I appreciated the masterful camera work, the elegant pace, the implicit emotional tension, and the powerful performance of the actors. It's an excellent film, but something was lacking, which is probably fervor and warmth. Ozu tackled the same issue of father-daughter attachment, yet Ozu's picture has a glow, a depth of feeling and intimacy that transcends the subject.
Takes its time, but is ultimately involving
bandw19 August 2010
This movie opens with about ten minutes of watching commuter trains running around the Paris area. We get views from the inside as well as out. You begin to wonder what is going on, is this a film directed by some train obsessed person? But, no, the opening scenes set a mood and briefly introduce us to two of the main characters: Lionel, a train engineer, and Joséphine, his daughter. (Is it just a coincidence that Lionel's name is the same as the model train company's?)
After the opening scenes we see Lional and Joséphine in their small but comfortable apartment in the Paris suburbs. Details of their ordinary domestic life are presented at some length. Lional and Joséphine are so at ease with each other that you assume they are husband and wife, but then you are surprised to learn they are father and daughter. Finally we are introduced to the two other people in the apartment complex whose lives intertwine with Lionel and Josèpine: Gabrielle, a taxi driver who has had more than a casual interest in Lionel for many years, and Noé, a young, peripatetic bohemian who has interest in Joséphine. Following the shifting relationships among these four people is the substance of the movie.
Dramatic tensions are developed with quiet subtly. Those seeking histrionics will not find them here. The pivotal scene has no dialog. While dancing in a café to the Commodores "Nightshift" and Ralph Tamer's "Siboney," the entire emotional tone between the characters turns. What a beautiful scene.
What attracted me to this film was the gradual way we learn about the people and come to care about them. In contrast, however, compressed into the final scenes are surprising revelations.
If you like quiet, character-driven films, then you will probably like this. Otherwise, probably not.
After the opening scenes we see Lional and Joséphine in their small but comfortable apartment in the Paris suburbs. Details of their ordinary domestic life are presented at some length. Lional and Joséphine are so at ease with each other that you assume they are husband and wife, but then you are surprised to learn they are father and daughter. Finally we are introduced to the two other people in the apartment complex whose lives intertwine with Lionel and Josèpine: Gabrielle, a taxi driver who has had more than a casual interest in Lionel for many years, and Noé, a young, peripatetic bohemian who has interest in Joséphine. Following the shifting relationships among these four people is the substance of the movie.
Dramatic tensions are developed with quiet subtly. Those seeking histrionics will not find them here. The pivotal scene has no dialog. While dancing in a café to the Commodores "Nightshift" and Ralph Tamer's "Siboney," the entire emotional tone between the characters turns. What a beautiful scene.
What attracted me to this film was the gradual way we learn about the people and come to care about them. In contrast, however, compressed into the final scenes are surprising revelations.
If you like quiet, character-driven films, then you will probably like this. Otherwise, probably not.
one of the dullest films I've ever seen.
rpavly2 May 2010
A long, pretentious and boring mess, ending in a mushy inexplicable scene set up only to get the title worked into the film. It goes nowhere... mostly because it hardly has a plot, it is just enigmatic observations.
Denis's strives for realism and humanism; but the only rare viewer can possibly identify with the film due to its purposely vague non-plot. Or to its characters who are just living their mundane lives. This film uses a manipulative narrative structure and its characters are mostly connected by lifeless staring or slight movements. The character development is nothing more than an hour and a half of watching them perform the most trivial and mundane of tasks. Nothing much happens. And the scenes in which nothing much happens drag on endlessly. This slice of life film was far less enjoyable than a slice of soggy pizza.
Denis's strives for realism and humanism; but the only rare viewer can possibly identify with the film due to its purposely vague non-plot. Or to its characters who are just living their mundane lives. This film uses a manipulative narrative structure and its characters are mostly connected by lifeless staring or slight movements. The character development is nothing more than an hour and a half of watching them perform the most trivial and mundane of tasks. Nothing much happens. And the scenes in which nothing much happens drag on endlessly. This slice of life film was far less enjoyable than a slice of soggy pizza.
A replica to Late Spring calling in mind Café Lumière
p_radulescu8 November 2010
This movie has the subtlety and tenderness of a miniature painting. The charm is hidden in infinitesimal details.
The long opening sequence that watches without haste commuter trains running toward the large city calls in mind Ozu, and, yes, the movie is a tribute to the great Japanese master: a replica to Late Spring, offering at least two surprises.
Firstly, it's Ozu filtered through the lens of Hou Hsiao-Hsien: a replica to Late Spring calling in mind Café Lumière; a French director reenacting a Japanese classic with the sensibility of a modern Taiwanese.
Secondly, while transplanting the Japanese movie from 1949 in today's Paris, 35 Rhums explores other potentialities of the story. Which opens new horizons: after all, the choices made by the heroes in Late Spring raise questions with multiple answers.
Like in Late Spring there is a widowed father with a daughter in her twenties. The father is of African descent, a train engineer at RER (the transit system around Paris). The daughter is studying anthropology. Like in Late Spring, both have a quiet middle-class life in the outskirts of the big city. For the father the same dilemma: realizing that the daughter should leave him and make her own life. Like in Late Spring, there is a prospect groom for the daughter, also a prospect new wife for the father. The friend who got remarried in Late Spring (a warning against loneliness) became in 35 Rhums a coworker just retired and getting quickly alienated by solitude. Even the father's assistant from Late Spring, briefly viewed as a possible match for the girl, is appearing here in 35 Rhums: a colleague of the daughter, briefly trying to date her.
The two stories keep (loosely) the same line. The quiet and warm everyday between father and daughter is disrupted by a chain of totally unconnected events leading to the same conclusion: the daughter will build her own life, the father will face loneliness (getting space now for the 35 shots of rum). Even the trip made by father and daughter before her marriage can be found in both movies: a trip that offers the chance to talk about the long missing mother. The trip in Late Spring is to the ancient city of Kyoto, while in 35 Rhums it is to mother's birthplace: a German town that kept its medieval allure. But the similarities between the two movies end here.
Unlike the Japanese classic, 35 Rhums is not interested at all in the plot. Without making the connection to Late Spring you wouldn't get it too much. You would realize at some point that both father and daughter speak also German fluently, you should then realize that the mother was (maybe) born in Germany, you wouldn't get it what's with the 35 shots of whatever, and were you to be too stubborn, you wouldn't even get it who's getting eventually married with whom.
And that is because for the French director it is the web of human relationships that counts. Human relations, their warmth, their potentialities, never totally fulfilled, the never told dreams and hopes, the brief looks that speaks tones of volumes where words would say nothing, this is what Claire Denis is looking for in this movie. Discovering the unseen light that comes from within, celebrating it as infinite joy, and infinite ambiguity, of love; celebrating the mundane as scene for this ambiguous, pure, infinite, love. It's Ozu seen through the lens of Hou Hsiao-Hsien, a classic story subtly re-told with contemporary sensibility.
This fluidity of the plot offers room for ambiguity: ambiguity of what's happening, ambiguity of sentiments. Father and daughter have built a universe of their own where they feel perfectly fine, all other relations (the father with the woman who loves him, the daughter with the man whom she eventually will marry) are kept in some sort of a backup, never rejected, never properly treated, just delaying them for later, for that 'you never know'. This while all feel that time never stops, never comes back, never repeats lost occasions.
There is a superb scene that shows all this. Father and daughter, along with their prospects, are going to a concert. The car breaks, it's raining hardly, and they notice a small African restaurant. It's closed, they knock at the door, the owner reopens for them. A drink to get warmed, while the owner prepares some quick dishes, they start to dance, the father with his girlfriend, then with his daughter, the young man with the daughter, the father with the young waitress, each pair is exhaling a sense of intimacy noted with a vague discomfort by the others, while this intimacy is actually filling the whole space, is conquering everybody.
Well, you would ask me what's about with the 35 shots of rum? C'est une vieille histoire (it's an old story) says the father when asked... but you should see the movie for yourselves to understand.
The long opening sequence that watches without haste commuter trains running toward the large city calls in mind Ozu, and, yes, the movie is a tribute to the great Japanese master: a replica to Late Spring, offering at least two surprises.
Firstly, it's Ozu filtered through the lens of Hou Hsiao-Hsien: a replica to Late Spring calling in mind Café Lumière; a French director reenacting a Japanese classic with the sensibility of a modern Taiwanese.
Secondly, while transplanting the Japanese movie from 1949 in today's Paris, 35 Rhums explores other potentialities of the story. Which opens new horizons: after all, the choices made by the heroes in Late Spring raise questions with multiple answers.
Like in Late Spring there is a widowed father with a daughter in her twenties. The father is of African descent, a train engineer at RER (the transit system around Paris). The daughter is studying anthropology. Like in Late Spring, both have a quiet middle-class life in the outskirts of the big city. For the father the same dilemma: realizing that the daughter should leave him and make her own life. Like in Late Spring, there is a prospect groom for the daughter, also a prospect new wife for the father. The friend who got remarried in Late Spring (a warning against loneliness) became in 35 Rhums a coworker just retired and getting quickly alienated by solitude. Even the father's assistant from Late Spring, briefly viewed as a possible match for the girl, is appearing here in 35 Rhums: a colleague of the daughter, briefly trying to date her.
The two stories keep (loosely) the same line. The quiet and warm everyday between father and daughter is disrupted by a chain of totally unconnected events leading to the same conclusion: the daughter will build her own life, the father will face loneliness (getting space now for the 35 shots of rum). Even the trip made by father and daughter before her marriage can be found in both movies: a trip that offers the chance to talk about the long missing mother. The trip in Late Spring is to the ancient city of Kyoto, while in 35 Rhums it is to mother's birthplace: a German town that kept its medieval allure. But the similarities between the two movies end here.
Unlike the Japanese classic, 35 Rhums is not interested at all in the plot. Without making the connection to Late Spring you wouldn't get it too much. You would realize at some point that both father and daughter speak also German fluently, you should then realize that the mother was (maybe) born in Germany, you wouldn't get it what's with the 35 shots of whatever, and were you to be too stubborn, you wouldn't even get it who's getting eventually married with whom.
And that is because for the French director it is the web of human relationships that counts. Human relations, their warmth, their potentialities, never totally fulfilled, the never told dreams and hopes, the brief looks that speaks tones of volumes where words would say nothing, this is what Claire Denis is looking for in this movie. Discovering the unseen light that comes from within, celebrating it as infinite joy, and infinite ambiguity, of love; celebrating the mundane as scene for this ambiguous, pure, infinite, love. It's Ozu seen through the lens of Hou Hsiao-Hsien, a classic story subtly re-told with contemporary sensibility.
This fluidity of the plot offers room for ambiguity: ambiguity of what's happening, ambiguity of sentiments. Father and daughter have built a universe of their own where they feel perfectly fine, all other relations (the father with the woman who loves him, the daughter with the man whom she eventually will marry) are kept in some sort of a backup, never rejected, never properly treated, just delaying them for later, for that 'you never know'. This while all feel that time never stops, never comes back, never repeats lost occasions.
There is a superb scene that shows all this. Father and daughter, along with their prospects, are going to a concert. The car breaks, it's raining hardly, and they notice a small African restaurant. It's closed, they knock at the door, the owner reopens for them. A drink to get warmed, while the owner prepares some quick dishes, they start to dance, the father with his girlfriend, then with his daughter, the young man with the daughter, the father with the young waitress, each pair is exhaling a sense of intimacy noted with a vague discomfort by the others, while this intimacy is actually filling the whole space, is conquering everybody.
Well, you would ask me what's about with the 35 shots of rum? C'est une vieille histoire (it's an old story) says the father when asked... but you should see the movie for yourselves to understand.
Closely watched trains
jotix10022 October 2012
Warning: Spoilers
Lionel, a Parisian suburban train conductor, lives in a comfortable place with Josephine, his daughter, a university student of social studies. Their lives are examined in this introspective character study by Claire Denis, a director closely associated with the African continent. In this story, she watches a group of railway people, all of them African immigrants from the former French colonies.
The focus of the film is the loving relationship between father and daughter and friends. Lionel was married to a German woman, now dead. He has reared Josephine, doing a splendid job. Even though they might not have a lot to say to one another, their love is evident. Noe, a neighbor, clearly likes Josephine. Lionel, who has been a widower for a long time, is interested in Gabrielle, a taxi driver.
Nothing much happens in the story, and yet, it has its spell on viewers. One follows these immigrants who have made a life in a foreign land, living productive, if somewhat quiet lives. The atmosphere is positive as Ms. Denis decided to present them in a light which makes the audience care for them. The screenplay, written by Jan-Pol Fargeau and the director, shows their appreciation, and respect for the people being examined in the film.
The cast is excellent led by Alex Descas, who plays Lionel with a quiet dignity. Lovely Mati Diop makes justice of her Josephine. Gregoire Colin plays the enigmatic Noe, and Nicole Dogue does an interesting take on Gabrielle. The production was photographed by the distinguished cinematographer Agnes Godard who bathes the film in dark tones since much of the action takes place at night. Tindersticks provide the melodious musical score.
The focus of the film is the loving relationship between father and daughter and friends. Lionel was married to a German woman, now dead. He has reared Josephine, doing a splendid job. Even though they might not have a lot to say to one another, their love is evident. Noe, a neighbor, clearly likes Josephine. Lionel, who has been a widower for a long time, is interested in Gabrielle, a taxi driver.
Nothing much happens in the story, and yet, it has its spell on viewers. One follows these immigrants who have made a life in a foreign land, living productive, if somewhat quiet lives. The atmosphere is positive as Ms. Denis decided to present them in a light which makes the audience care for them. The screenplay, written by Jan-Pol Fargeau and the director, shows their appreciation, and respect for the people being examined in the film.
The cast is excellent led by Alex Descas, who plays Lionel with a quiet dignity. Lovely Mati Diop makes justice of her Josephine. Gregoire Colin plays the enigmatic Noe, and Nicole Dogue does an interesting take on Gabrielle. The production was photographed by the distinguished cinematographer Agnes Godard who bathes the film in dark tones since much of the action takes place at night. Tindersticks provide the melodious musical score.
Inoffensively incoherent
Miakmynov27 June 2009
If like me, you're the kind of person who's desk is always tidy with everything in the right place, who appreciates clarity and structure, and is in generally on the wrong-end of the societal norm of 'just go with the flow', then this film could prove to be quite a challenge.
The first few minutes encapsulate the movie in miniature. We spend the time zipping around a French metro system going nowhere in particular, via a camera attached to the front of various trains, as the timespan unfolds from daylight to darkness. This is intercut with shots of a good-looking chain-smoking bloke in his fifties, watching the subway trains from his motorbike by the side of the tracks. What is he waiting for? What does he look so worried about? Why does he eventually leave? For every answer meted out, another dozen questions take its' place.
The plot, such as it is, concerns the changing relationship between a beautiful father/daughter combo (which, at times, seemed to me almost incestuous in tone), and their extended family of neighbours. Most 'stuff' is left unsaid for the viewer to interpret. Instead we are treated to languid, lingering shots of things like, er, doorways and skin. This is most definitely art-house territory, with bits of French-ness thrown in.
I stayed for the Q&A after the Edinburgh Film Festival showing, in the hope that the director (Claire Denis) might shed some light on her work, and indeed she did – long, rambling answers that veered all over the place in an entirely inoffensive but generally incoherent way – just like her film really. Nice enough to look at, but not really my cup of thé au lait, even if there had been some in sulky Noe's fridge. 4/10
The first few minutes encapsulate the movie in miniature. We spend the time zipping around a French metro system going nowhere in particular, via a camera attached to the front of various trains, as the timespan unfolds from daylight to darkness. This is intercut with shots of a good-looking chain-smoking bloke in his fifties, watching the subway trains from his motorbike by the side of the tracks. What is he waiting for? What does he look so worried about? Why does he eventually leave? For every answer meted out, another dozen questions take its' place.
The plot, such as it is, concerns the changing relationship between a beautiful father/daughter combo (which, at times, seemed to me almost incestuous in tone), and their extended family of neighbours. Most 'stuff' is left unsaid for the viewer to interpret. Instead we are treated to languid, lingering shots of things like, er, doorways and skin. This is most definitely art-house territory, with bits of French-ness thrown in.
I stayed for the Q&A after the Edinburgh Film Festival showing, in the hope that the director (Claire Denis) might shed some light on her work, and indeed she did – long, rambling answers that veered all over the place in an entirely inoffensive but generally incoherent way – just like her film really. Nice enough to look at, but not really my cup of thé au lait, even if there had been some in sulky Noe's fridge. 4/10
A heartfelt dissection of meanings of life in a familial context
Mancic200013 April 2009
I like it when the movie title itself is capable of concisely threading together the themes of the movie and yet retains a unique symbolic connotation. "35 shots of rum" is a good example. The audience were left with a question mark as to what the "35 shots of rum theory" meant to the father early on in the movie, and when leaving the cinema were probably rewarded with a sonorous answer which neatly highlights and summarises the point of the movie.
In a working class Parisian family which is disintegrated by the loss of an important member, what bonds the remaining members together and keep them going? What prevents them from lying flat on the rail and let trains run all over them and wrap them up as some may choose to? "35 shots of rum" provides us with a sincere, heartfelt and highly humanised conjecture through unraveling an intimate web of relationships within the family and the neighbourhood, and reveals to the audience what meanings of life are to the characters. The story-telling is commendable and loyal to its central film throughout, making the film a structurally condensed and coherent piece of study of humanity.
In a working class Parisian family which is disintegrated by the loss of an important member, what bonds the remaining members together and keep them going? What prevents them from lying flat on the rail and let trains run all over them and wrap them up as some may choose to? "35 shots of rum" provides us with a sincere, heartfelt and highly humanised conjecture through unraveling an intimate web of relationships within the family and the neighbourhood, and reveals to the audience what meanings of life are to the characters. The story-telling is commendable and loyal to its central film throughout, making the film a structurally condensed and coherent piece of study of humanity.
New Whirled Order
tieman6425 September 2011
Warning: Spoilers
"35 Shots of Rum" opens on Lionel, a black African immigrant who spends long hours driving a train across France. Haggard and tired he returns to his tiny apartment, which he shares with daughter Josephine. "Don't feel I need looking after," he tells her, but it's a lie. They're lonesome without each another. Director Claire Denis then lingers on scenes of unusually tender father/daughter intimacy, such that for a while we think the duo may be lovers. But their relationship is more complex; they want to be free of each other but are wary of cutting ties.
Denis' films have long focused on France's former colonies ("Chocolat", "Beau Travail", "White Material" etc). The political contradictions, psychological pressures and after-effects of this colonial legacy are the targets of "35 Shots of Rum, but aside from one scene, in which Josephine and her classmates debate colonialism, resistance, globalisation and name-drop philosopher Frantz Fanon and economist Joseph Stiglitz, such "big issues" remain in the background. Instead, the film's themes are approached subtly. And so we see first generation immigrants relegated to public sector work, a father and daughter who yearn to move on but feel weighed down by familial, historical and past ties, and characters who are either taxi drivers or train conductors, all things transient, always moving, but going nowhere and unable to move on. A sense of alienation blankets the film, characters trapped in cubicles, cars, carts and carriages, sealed mournfully in the aural cocoons afforded by Ipods, or unable to break free of class and racial straitjackets. Josephine – herself both black-and-white, her mother German - strikes up a relationship with a wealthy French boy called Noe, but their love is an uneasy one. They yearn for one another, but she won't let it happen. Her eyes drift to an African student instead. Gabrielle, another neighbour, likewise mourns the death of her relationship with Lionel. The quartet form the modern family, forever splintered. Meanwhile, no one notices the death of the now unemployed Rene, a co-worker whom Lionel runs over with his train. Rene's representative of a marginalised underclass, discarded and replaced like so much machinery.
"Rum" homages Yasujiro Ozu's "Late Spring", a film in which a father urges his daughter to leave his side and pursue marriage. In Denis' hands, the daughter's inability to leave is symbolic of a larger form of both cultural division and shaky assimilation. Beyond this, Denis mimics Ozu's minimalist style, gentle pace and elliptical narrative, but her aesthetic is more sensual, more ethereal, more resemblant of Hou Hsio-hsien (particularly "Cafe Lumiere"). Denis' train-eye shots also echo Jean Renoir's "La bete humaine", but the overt horrors of Renoir's work become a more muted, more accepted form of benign violence in her hands. See the films of Olivier Assayas (particularly "Summer Hours"), another French director with similar concerns.
Though the film is set in France, few of "Rum's" characters are white, exemplifying the changes which have rocketed across the European landscape in recent decades. French itself is now spoken mostly by people who aren't French, more than 50 percent of whom are immigrants from Africa, Southeast Asia and the Caribbean, and who have settled in France and brought their native cultures with them. What, Denis asks, does French culture signify in a world in which only sixty five million of 200 million French speakers are actually French? Of course culture in general has become increasingly unfixed, unstable, fragmentary and elective. Global capitalism sells distinction and individuality as fast as it destroys the same. In response, groups fight desperately to cling to their roots. In Canada the Quebecers tried outlawing signs and other public expressions in anything but French. Basque separatists have been murdering Spaniards in the name of political, linguistic and cultural independence, just as Franco imprisoned anyone who spoke Basque or Catalan. In Belgium the split between French and Dutch speakers has divided the country for ages.
So what Denis captures is a world in which financial, commercial, human, cultural and technology flows are faster and more extensive than ever before, resulting in not only widespread alienation, but a counteractive desire to "hold fast" onto what little you have. In France this began in the early 1990s, as debates raged about European integration and the "benefits of multiculturalism", which in reality simply meant the freer movements of capital, goods and people. During this period, France's socialist prime minister, Lionel Jospin, and conservative president Jacques Chirac, often spoke of the need for alternatives to unregulated markets of goods, money, and people and both demanded more "rules" to govern globalisation. Their words were smokescreens, however, both rampantly liberalising and privatising large sections of the French economy. It's a common tactic: spout traditionally left-wing discourse on the necessity of "controlling market forces", "combating the excesses of liberalism" and "the dangers of unbridled globalisation driven by jungle capitalism", while doing the opposite.
Meanwhile, the dynamics of empire has changed. While globalisation reinstates European and American imperialism by allowing First World capitalists quasi-ownership of Third World countries through purchases of strategic government-owned enterprises, the nature of the French economy has itself changed radically. France has since the early 1980s converted to market liberalisation, both as the necessary by-product of European integration and globalisation and as a result of deliberate efforts by policymakers. People like Sarkozy, Chirac and Jospin have sold off more state-owned assets than the previous five governments put together. Whereas fifteen years ago foreign ownership of French firms was only around 10 percent, today over 40 percent of the shares in France are held abroad, and foreigners own more than half of key French companies. These issues are dealt with overtly in other Claire Denis films. With "Rum" she simply presents the fallout.
8.9/10 – Near masterpiece. See "Summer Hours".
Denis' films have long focused on France's former colonies ("Chocolat", "Beau Travail", "White Material" etc). The political contradictions, psychological pressures and after-effects of this colonial legacy are the targets of "35 Shots of Rum, but aside from one scene, in which Josephine and her classmates debate colonialism, resistance, globalisation and name-drop philosopher Frantz Fanon and economist Joseph Stiglitz, such "big issues" remain in the background. Instead, the film's themes are approached subtly. And so we see first generation immigrants relegated to public sector work, a father and daughter who yearn to move on but feel weighed down by familial, historical and past ties, and characters who are either taxi drivers or train conductors, all things transient, always moving, but going nowhere and unable to move on. A sense of alienation blankets the film, characters trapped in cubicles, cars, carts and carriages, sealed mournfully in the aural cocoons afforded by Ipods, or unable to break free of class and racial straitjackets. Josephine – herself both black-and-white, her mother German - strikes up a relationship with a wealthy French boy called Noe, but their love is an uneasy one. They yearn for one another, but she won't let it happen. Her eyes drift to an African student instead. Gabrielle, another neighbour, likewise mourns the death of her relationship with Lionel. The quartet form the modern family, forever splintered. Meanwhile, no one notices the death of the now unemployed Rene, a co-worker whom Lionel runs over with his train. Rene's representative of a marginalised underclass, discarded and replaced like so much machinery.
"Rum" homages Yasujiro Ozu's "Late Spring", a film in which a father urges his daughter to leave his side and pursue marriage. In Denis' hands, the daughter's inability to leave is symbolic of a larger form of both cultural division and shaky assimilation. Beyond this, Denis mimics Ozu's minimalist style, gentle pace and elliptical narrative, but her aesthetic is more sensual, more ethereal, more resemblant of Hou Hsio-hsien (particularly "Cafe Lumiere"). Denis' train-eye shots also echo Jean Renoir's "La bete humaine", but the overt horrors of Renoir's work become a more muted, more accepted form of benign violence in her hands. See the films of Olivier Assayas (particularly "Summer Hours"), another French director with similar concerns.
Though the film is set in France, few of "Rum's" characters are white, exemplifying the changes which have rocketed across the European landscape in recent decades. French itself is now spoken mostly by people who aren't French, more than 50 percent of whom are immigrants from Africa, Southeast Asia and the Caribbean, and who have settled in France and brought their native cultures with them. What, Denis asks, does French culture signify in a world in which only sixty five million of 200 million French speakers are actually French? Of course culture in general has become increasingly unfixed, unstable, fragmentary and elective. Global capitalism sells distinction and individuality as fast as it destroys the same. In response, groups fight desperately to cling to their roots. In Canada the Quebecers tried outlawing signs and other public expressions in anything but French. Basque separatists have been murdering Spaniards in the name of political, linguistic and cultural independence, just as Franco imprisoned anyone who spoke Basque or Catalan. In Belgium the split between French and Dutch speakers has divided the country for ages.
So what Denis captures is a world in which financial, commercial, human, cultural and technology flows are faster and more extensive than ever before, resulting in not only widespread alienation, but a counteractive desire to "hold fast" onto what little you have. In France this began in the early 1990s, as debates raged about European integration and the "benefits of multiculturalism", which in reality simply meant the freer movements of capital, goods and people. During this period, France's socialist prime minister, Lionel Jospin, and conservative president Jacques Chirac, often spoke of the need for alternatives to unregulated markets of goods, money, and people and both demanded more "rules" to govern globalisation. Their words were smokescreens, however, both rampantly liberalising and privatising large sections of the French economy. It's a common tactic: spout traditionally left-wing discourse on the necessity of "controlling market forces", "combating the excesses of liberalism" and "the dangers of unbridled globalisation driven by jungle capitalism", while doing the opposite.
Meanwhile, the dynamics of empire has changed. While globalisation reinstates European and American imperialism by allowing First World capitalists quasi-ownership of Third World countries through purchases of strategic government-owned enterprises, the nature of the French economy has itself changed radically. France has since the early 1980s converted to market liberalisation, both as the necessary by-product of European integration and globalisation and as a result of deliberate efforts by policymakers. People like Sarkozy, Chirac and Jospin have sold off more state-owned assets than the previous five governments put together. Whereas fifteen years ago foreign ownership of French firms was only around 10 percent, today over 40 percent of the shares in France are held abroad, and foreigners own more than half of key French companies. These issues are dealt with overtly in other Claire Denis films. With "Rum" she simply presents the fallout.
8.9/10 – Near masterpiece. See "Summer Hours".
quiet parable on family life
Pan3225 August 2010
Warning: Spoilers
35 Shots of Rum (35 Rhums), Claire Denis, 2008, continues Denis' portrayal of Europeans of African ancestry with this quietly unfolding parable of a daughters deep love of her father and his pangs of guilt in accepting her companionship (he is a widower) which he comes to see is an unhealthy dependency preventing her from forming her own emotional life with her boyfriend. The scene is a Parisian apartment building in which Jo and her father Lionel share friendships with Noe, Jo's boyfriend, and Gabrielle, a single woman who drives her own taxi. The obvious parings are prevented from developing by Jo'e inertia brought on by her contentment with the arrangement and the resolution hinges on the death of Noe's cat and the discovery of by Jo of a note from Gabrielle to Lionel. The films attractions are the expected artistry of Cinematographer Agnes Godard and the deft direction of Denis in which emotions and attitudes are conveyed with great economy. Denis uses imagery of movement throughout the film as Lionel is a commuter train engineer who uses a motorcycle for personal transport; Gabrielle drives her taxi; and Jo rides trains to her classes. There is a brief moment of something like magic realism with Jo and her father on horse back galloping down the underground tracks. All this contrasts with the quiet lives at the apartment. One odd note is the depiction of Jo at classes where the subject of the monetary domination of the northern countries over the southern. The word revolution is mentioned and a brief scene of a protest is inserted art one point. This contrasts, consciously or not, with a decidedly up scale apartment with furnishings that suggest a background far different from a train engineer. Except for her film Chocolate, I never noticed any overt socio/ political agenda in her films.
A Bore of a Movie
jepearce-999487 November 2021
elegiac, enigmatic film about relationships
klaus_rieser26 March 2012
Contrary to another review here I found the film very enjoyable and interesting, although for the same reasons ;-) In my view, the film establishes the relationships among its central characters, in particular father (Lionel) and daughter (Josephine) through their actions, everyday behavior and their various looks (gazes, glances, observations). The way I read it (but the beauty of the film is in part that multiple readings are possible) it is mostly about the letting go of father and daughter, a musing on the "Father of the Bride" theme; in total contrast of course to the comedies of that title.
Indeed the film has hardly any plot but interior developments; hardly any action, but a lot of movement; hardly fun but great possibilities of enjoyment.
Indeed the film has hardly any plot but interior developments; hardly any action, but a lot of movement; hardly fun but great possibilities of enjoyment.
Tentative dance
chaos-rampant15 March 2014
I was looking for another film by this filmmaker, promised to two readers. Unable to find it, I turned to this. I count myself lucky. It's potent stuff if you can place yourself inside.
One possible way is to note the Ozu influence. Most comments mention it. It's in the quiet family life between widowed father and his only daughter, in the dispassionate eye that gently embraces rhythms, in the lack of ego and hurt among the participants. He a train driver, attuned to a calm linear life that he controls, she a sociologist student, opening up to exploring and conceptualizing her ideas about things.
This is all a great entry, Denis films warmth, equanimity, assurance in simply the presence of two people together. There's no dissatisfaction in the routine, no loneliness in the solitude. Denis has adopted Zen indirectly via cinematic Ozu, this character is not apparent in another of her films I've seen, which only affirms that she's open and agile in her work, refusing to settle.
That's all fine in itself, I'll have this in my home over existential rumination every time, but Ozu is a bit more than tender tea in composed form. He begins with a rhythm that sets the spatiotemporal mechanism, and only after we have acquired presence does he introduce the dramatic event, usually a single one, usually marriage. The deeper thrust is that we'll go around that bend with more clarity than usual, registering transition in a cosmic way. A Japanese girl deciding on marriage was deciding on her future life after all; this needs to settle as deeply in us.
This is all about cosmic transition, albeit in even softer strokes. A larger family has been introduced in between, another woman who has feelings for the widower, a boy who has feelings for the girl. They all live in the same building. There's a lovely spatial fabric that brings them together, for instance the boy coming up the stairs pauses in the hall and intently stares at the girl's door, the intensity is that he's not just looking at a piece of wood but through that, intently as if to part the image, into the space of a possible life beyond.
So this isn't about just rhythm and composed space. It's about the neighbor woman smoking at her window hoping to see the man but not being sure this is it.
It all comes together in a marvelous scene of dancing in a small neighborhood bar, a crank has been thrown in their concert plans for the evening, their car that breaks down, so life spontaneously resumes on the spot to figure itself out. The deeper thrust is that they all have to go on. The father has to let his daughter go, the girl has to move on from the family nest, the boy has to come to terms that he might have to move on alone, the neighbor woman move on without making her feelings known. A train colleague receives his pension as the film starts, he also has to move on but can't envision another life ahead; sure enough he's discovered near the end dead on the tracks by the father.
The game with 35 shots is another entry; they do it, the father muses in a bar, to mark something that only happens once, life in a broader sense.
The ending poses a conundrum. You'll probably have a sense of what Denis is trying to accomplish by that point. She has removed the one thing that significantly held Ozu back, explaining from the outside. So she's looking to embody the transition that is more than an event. Indirectly this brings her in line with every other filmmaker currently worth knowing in the attempt to create a new visual logic for becoming conscious. Denis is uniquely equipped in having seen Tarkovsky at work. So the film becomes muddled, crispness must go at that point. The whole idea is that they are both in the end still unsure about it, this is anchored in the nervous image of the boy in the hall. Did she do it?
One possible way is to note the Ozu influence. Most comments mention it. It's in the quiet family life between widowed father and his only daughter, in the dispassionate eye that gently embraces rhythms, in the lack of ego and hurt among the participants. He a train driver, attuned to a calm linear life that he controls, she a sociologist student, opening up to exploring and conceptualizing her ideas about things.
This is all a great entry, Denis films warmth, equanimity, assurance in simply the presence of two people together. There's no dissatisfaction in the routine, no loneliness in the solitude. Denis has adopted Zen indirectly via cinematic Ozu, this character is not apparent in another of her films I've seen, which only affirms that she's open and agile in her work, refusing to settle.
That's all fine in itself, I'll have this in my home over existential rumination every time, but Ozu is a bit more than tender tea in composed form. He begins with a rhythm that sets the spatiotemporal mechanism, and only after we have acquired presence does he introduce the dramatic event, usually a single one, usually marriage. The deeper thrust is that we'll go around that bend with more clarity than usual, registering transition in a cosmic way. A Japanese girl deciding on marriage was deciding on her future life after all; this needs to settle as deeply in us.
This is all about cosmic transition, albeit in even softer strokes. A larger family has been introduced in between, another woman who has feelings for the widower, a boy who has feelings for the girl. They all live in the same building. There's a lovely spatial fabric that brings them together, for instance the boy coming up the stairs pauses in the hall and intently stares at the girl's door, the intensity is that he's not just looking at a piece of wood but through that, intently as if to part the image, into the space of a possible life beyond.
So this isn't about just rhythm and composed space. It's about the neighbor woman smoking at her window hoping to see the man but not being sure this is it.
It all comes together in a marvelous scene of dancing in a small neighborhood bar, a crank has been thrown in their concert plans for the evening, their car that breaks down, so life spontaneously resumes on the spot to figure itself out. The deeper thrust is that they all have to go on. The father has to let his daughter go, the girl has to move on from the family nest, the boy has to come to terms that he might have to move on alone, the neighbor woman move on without making her feelings known. A train colleague receives his pension as the film starts, he also has to move on but can't envision another life ahead; sure enough he's discovered near the end dead on the tracks by the father.
The game with 35 shots is another entry; they do it, the father muses in a bar, to mark something that only happens once, life in a broader sense.
The ending poses a conundrum. You'll probably have a sense of what Denis is trying to accomplish by that point. She has removed the one thing that significantly held Ozu back, explaining from the outside. So she's looking to embody the transition that is more than an event. Indirectly this brings her in line with every other filmmaker currently worth knowing in the attempt to create a new visual logic for becoming conscious. Denis is uniquely equipped in having seen Tarkovsky at work. So the film becomes muddled, crispness must go at that point. The whole idea is that they are both in the end still unsure about it, this is anchored in the nervous image of the boy in the hall. Did she do it?
French director Claire Denis celebrates the strengths and weaknesses of loneliness.
FilmCriticLalitRao17 November 2013
Loneliness is a strange feeling as one can be lonely even while being surrounded by huge armies of people. 35 shots of Rum appears to celebrate loneliness as it allows its protagonists to explore their inner world where loneliness is an expression of their choice which they use in order to reveal their strengths and weaknesses. This film is a sensible study which highlights the strengths and weaknesses of human character. This study is carried out through the depiction of human life's most ordinary moments namely a woman buying a rice cooker, a car getting stuck during a rainy season etc. 35 shots of rum is balanced in his approach as loneliness has also been depicted as a life threatening sentiment which claims numerous victims. One such victim dies after having been viciously attacked by fate. French director Claire Denis chose to depict a quiet yet fragile daughter/father relationship which is not able to stand the test of time. This is shown in the form of cracks which begin to slowly destroy an innocent daughter/father relationship when both of them choose to part in order to be with their loved ones.
Magnificent acting. A father and daughter relationship brought to life
LyceeM1615 April 2021
Warning: Spoilers
Possible spoiler: One of my favorite films is Denis' Chocolat. This film (35 shots...) is a wonderful depiction of a father:daughter relationship. The two leads are superb with wonderful restrained acting. The other less featured actors (3 of them) are also compelling. The "Night Shift" scene in the cafe-bar is wondrous and magical and so is the aftermath of the trip back and Noe's apartment. I have a tiny issue with some of the implied action that leads from Jo going to Noe's flat and the subsequent developments- maybe a bit too subtle- or was something possibly edited out? The train scenes are mesmerizing but its the human interactions and emotions that shine fiercely, lovingly, and with poignancy.
Cannot find the words
florinc16 September 2023
This move is more intense than most of challenging suspense films I ever saw.
It has no drama in it, except for the drama of life itself. Nothing really happens, except for the life itself. Nothing very clever is said, except for the wisdom of life itself.
Life, with its crown of creation, love, needed no words. No special deeds. Less is more. It needs to be there, to really see, listen, share, and mend everything in order to preserve this exquisite fabric of life.
The beauty of expression is so overwhelming that I had to stop three times to be able to breathe. I could not, I did not want to break the spell with my movements. There sre three scenes that support the whole movie.
A slow train with three stations.
Please, after you read my words, try to forget them and watch the movie.
Nothing happens in the film, except for the life itself.
It has no drama in it, except for the drama of life itself. Nothing really happens, except for the life itself. Nothing very clever is said, except for the wisdom of life itself.
Life, with its crown of creation, love, needed no words. No special deeds. Less is more. It needs to be there, to really see, listen, share, and mend everything in order to preserve this exquisite fabric of life.
The beauty of expression is so overwhelming that I had to stop three times to be able to breathe. I could not, I did not want to break the spell with my movements. There sre three scenes that support the whole movie.
A slow train with three stations.
Please, after you read my words, try to forget them and watch the movie.
Nothing happens in the film, except for the life itself.
Brooke Coleman - FREN300
bcoleman-7388421 May 2021
The story takes place in Paris. There is a strong imagine revolved around the father-daughter relationship displayed all throughout the film. Lionel (father) and his daughter Josephine have a bond like no other. The dedication Josephine shows towards having a relationship with her father is admirable. This film goes though the ups and downs of their life. The new relationships they built, the troubles that come with starting over, and they things they give up to make peace with life. After declining 35 shots of rum, Lionel must make the man decisions to start over. However, he always keeps his daughter in mind.
This film is was directed by Claire Denis. Some of the main characters include Nicole Dogue as Gabrielle, Grégoire Colin as Noe, Alex Descas as Lionel and Mati Diop as Josephine. Nominated for Best film a t the 2008 Gijón International Film won a Special Jury Prize.
The 2 main character in the film, Josephine and Loniel display what it means to make scarifies for another person and to make tough decisions with them in mind. These themes in the film make it the heart warming one it is.
I gave this film an 8/10. At times it can be heard to follow. However, the lessons leaned from such a short film make it so special. At the end of the day, I would recommend this film to the older generation. Just because I personally feel like the relationship with parents can sometimes slip in those developmental years. It is important to remain humble and to sho sacrifices for the ones you love.
This film is was directed by Claire Denis. Some of the main characters include Nicole Dogue as Gabrielle, Grégoire Colin as Noe, Alex Descas as Lionel and Mati Diop as Josephine. Nominated for Best film a t the 2008 Gijón International Film won a Special Jury Prize.
The 2 main character in the film, Josephine and Loniel display what it means to make scarifies for another person and to make tough decisions with them in mind. These themes in the film make it the heart warming one it is.
I gave this film an 8/10. At times it can be heard to follow. However, the lessons leaned from such a short film make it so special. At the end of the day, I would recommend this film to the older generation. Just because I personally feel like the relationship with parents can sometimes slip in those developmental years. It is important to remain humble and to sho sacrifices for the ones you love.
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