Or maybe the man is actually in his daughter’s home, living with her and her husband—and she never said anything about going anywhere. And who are all those strangers that keep coming and going? Are you confused? Well, so is Anthony (Anthony Hopkins), who’s suffering from dementia in this awards-caliber adaptation of an acclaimed French play, La Pére, that made the leap to Broadway in 2012. Florian Zeller, who wrote the original stage production, now makes his feature-film debut directing this movie, a wrenchingly honest, artfully disorientating drama ingeniously depicting a lifetime of memories slipping away. The Father starts out straightforward enough, but quickly lets us know something isn’t quite right. “There’s something funny going on,” says Anthony (whose character has the same name as the actor). He means “funny,” as in odd, not humorous. Because there’s nothing humorous to Anthony about his puzzlement. And the movie shrewdly mirrors his increasingly confused state by muddling ours—changing little details of the flat, or apartment, where almost everything takes place, repeating and looping bits of scenes, even having different actors play key characters. The Father is like watching Anthony’s mounting uncertainties from the inside out, making us unsure of what’s real, what and who we’re seeing and where we are, feeling his intensifying frustration as he grasps to gather up the shards of his fractured memories. Does Anthony’s daughter, Anne (The Crown’sOlivia Colman), really cook chicken for dinner every night, or is it just one meal that Anthony is remembering, over and over? Is someone—everyone—really trying to steal his wristwatch? Maybe it’s Anne’s confrontational husband (Rufus Sewell, from TV’s The Man in the High Castle and Masterpiece’s Victoria), or perhaps it’s that other guy (Mark Gattis), and the woman (Olivia Williams), who sometimes show up. And why does Anthony keep insisting that his new caregiver (Imogene Poots) bears such a strong resemblance to his other daughter, Anne’s sister? Hopkins’ Academy Award for his iconic role as the charming cannibal Hannibal Lector in The Silence of the Lambs (1991) is only a bit of gold dressing atop his monumental acting career, which spans decades of stage, screen and television. He’s played President Richard Nixon, painter Pablo Picasso, legendary director Alfred Hitchcock, the Norse god Odin and Pope Benedict XVI in the movies, and starred in theatrical productions as Shakespeare’s King Lear, Macbeth and Mark Antony. He was nominated for an Emmy for his TV role on Westworld as the mastermind of a futuristic sci-fi dystopian adult-amusement park. If early buzz is any indication (the movie screened for critics several weeks ago), he might be getting ready for other nominations, and quite possibly other trophies, for The Father. His performance is the powerful, poignant, unforgettably heart-wrenching stuff of which awards are forged—and it will be especially spot-on and stirring for anyone who had, or has, a loved one with dementia. Colman, who also already has an Oscar (for The Favourite), likewise turns in an impressively nuanced performance as she navigates Anne’s emotional spectrum—of weariness, exasperation and loss—while dealing with her father and trying to calm, cajole and care for him. The Father isn’t a relaxing watch, but Hopkins makes an indelible impression as this everyday man grappling in the fading twilight with an invisible foe that’s taking pieces of him away—his lifetime of recollection, his selfhood and his identity—bit by agonizing bit. It’s the ravages of senility by way of Shakespeare. “Who am I, exactly?” Anthony asks at one point as he cowers in a corner of his room. “I fear as if I am losing all my leaves—the branches…the wind and rain… I don’t know what’s happening anymore.” He looks at his arm, suddenly somewhat reassured. “But I do know my watch is on my wrist, for the journey.” Hopkins’ journey through this magisterial performance is intensely, profoundly personal, yet vast and relatable to almost everyone—like watching the waning light of day splay out into a glorious sunset before slipping completely into darkness, or seeing nature change its seasons as the blooming greenery of summer inevitably gives way to empty trees, falling leaves and the cold, pale gloom of winter. The leaves may be falling away onto the cold, dark ground for Anthony. But Hopkins’ unforgettable portrait of a man losing his memory will remain long lodged in your’s, and it points the way to another, brighter season—when Hollywood hands out its shiny honors this coming spring—for one of our most formidable actors. Next, Glenn Close and Meryl Streep Pan for Oscar Gold in Hillbilly Elegy
