Everything happens and nothing happens in director Jim Jarmusch’s Father Mother Sister Brother. The film — a triptych of stories that focuses on the unresolved tensions and awkward dynamics between children and parents — nestles itself in the pregnant pauses of diminishing conversation, bringing awkward and seemingly insignificant moments to the cinematic forefront. Old and new collaborators are along for the ride, but you’ll rarely hear anyone’s voice rise above the tenor of a heartfelt goodbye. There are no shouting matches or showstopping revelations. In many ways, viewers leave characters in the same state they found them.
This methodical and anticlimactic approach speaks not only to how difficult it can be for families to break the chain of certain dynamics, but also to how rhythms and patterns are formed through the steady accumulation of these quiet, insignificant moments. Parents rarely wake up and decide that they don’t want to be present for their kids, nor do children suddenly choose to stop being truthful to their parents. Indeed, the most painful wounds are the calcification of many small moments. Jarmusch, as best he can, tries to document these happenings in real time.
This real-time approach is key to the effectiveness of Jarmusch’s film; at times, we literally feel the weight of a passing second. Take a sequence in the first chapter, where siblings Emily (Mayim Bialik) and Jeff (Adam Driver) are driving up to visit their father (Tom Waits). Emily and Jeff engage in friendly banter, but their discussion is hardly of note: Jeff asks about his nieces and nephews. Emily broaches, then retreats from the subject of Jeff’s divorce. It’s the type of quotidian dialogue that, if you heard it while passing by someone, you’d forget it a beat later. There’s no poetic wit or clever allusion to the film’s larger themes; it’s almost as if Jarmusch just allowed Driver and Bialik to freestyle the most boring exchanges imaginable.
Where other films might have expedited this journey, Father Mother Sister Brother stays with Emily and Jeff for the duration of their drive up. That languid pace continues when the siblings speak with their father; it’s evident that there’s unresolved tension between the three of them, given how standoffish Emily and Jeff are about approaching any subject of actual depth. But no one is brave enough to break through the artifice and say something real. There’s a sense that no one is there because they want to be there; Emily and Jeff feel compelled to check up on their father as dutiful children, but you get the sense that Waits’ father character asks the same check-up questions every time his kids visit, and never remembers their answers. It’s a family that’s mechanical, propelled by a sense of obligation but bereft of genuine passion or care. Through it, Jarmusch allows his viewers to ask larger questions around the inevitability of this reality for all parental relationships.
The next chapter moves the needle slightly towards more truth-telling, but not by much. Once again, Jarmusch revels in the cringe; silences, averted eyes and pursed-lip smiles speak volumes. “Mother” goes across the pond to Dublin, where Charlotte Rampling’s Mother character is preparing for her yearly afternoon tea with her daughters, Timothea (Cate Blanchett) and Lilith (Vicky Krieps). More than in any of the other chapters, in “Mother” Jarmusch and costume designer Catherine George use wardrobe as a way to highlight the unspoken emotions between this trio. Lilith sports pink hair and a designer handbag, walking with a type of flamboyance that welcomes either flirtation or a fight. Timothea sports more business casual attire, her layered clothing a form of body armor.
An offhand comment reveals that while Timothea and Lilith moved to Dublin to be closer to their mother, they only see her once a year for tea time. While blame can always be given to busy schedules and life circumstances, witnessing the simmering stresses creep almost to a boil between the three makes one thing evident: there’s an intentionality to this distance. Why these women all ration their presence with each other while saying that they should spend more time together is another delightful tension Jarmusch hints at, but doesn’t fully explore. This is to our benefit, as undoubtedly, many will find themselves uncomfortably seen in a dynamic where there’s a discrepancy between word and action.
The final chapter, “Sister Brother,” is simultaneously the most stripped-back and most expansive of the three stories. It focuses on twins Skye (Indya Moore) and Billy (Luka Sabbat) as they rendezvous in Paris to sort through their parents’ belongings. What sets this chapter apart from the others is that we don’t see the duo’s parents; some awkwardly written but competently delivered dialogue reveals that they perished in a plane crash. We get bits and pieces about what
Skye and Billy’s family dynamics were like, but this is a story about what it means to learn about someone through the physical possessions they left behind. In this section, Jarmusch seems to be implying that we may only gain a greater appreciation for our loved ones through great distance. The real question is: Does death have to be the beginning of this affection, or can that journey begin earlier?
At the risk of spoilers, it’s worth noting that these three stories don’t connect to each other in some contrived or convoluted way, as meta as it might have been to hear Adam Driver’s character tell someone, “I am your father.” Instead, certain behaviors and recurring images pop up: the characters often find themselves toasting to some occasion, then questioning the validity of the beverage they’re using, while also finding that they are all wearing similar colored clothing. On repeat viewings, it could be a tantalizing exercise for viewers to try to locate further overlap between the chapters.
With Father Mother Sister Brother, Jarmusch has made a family drama his way: with a patient eye and methodical hand, letting the personalities and dynamics between characters steadily grow until greater truths reach the surface. He’s crafted a film about the ways families age, inviting us to consider the ways we’ve loved imperfectly and how we can learn to love more gracefully.
Father Mother Sister Brother debuted at the Venice International Film Festival, and screened as a Centerpiece selection at the New York Film Festival. It will debut in North American theaters on December 24.