Had Xavier Dolan’s “Mommy” won the Cannes Film Festival’s top honor, the Palme d’Or, Dolan would have been the youngest winner in history at 25 years old, surpassing Steven Soderbergh’s accomplished win for “Sex, Lies, and Videotape” by one year.
Still, maybe that says something about the Canadian director as a budding artist in the years to come. “Sex, Lies, and Videotape” was Soderbergh’s first feature in what has become a directing legacy of independent and blockbuster stature. “Mommy” is already Dolan’s fifth feature, and his most accomplished – a film delicately pieced together with awe-inspiring work that already shows how much Dolan’s abilities in the art have evolved.
In front of the camera, there’s a trio of masterfully realized performances that constantly circle one another without missing a beat. They consist of Diane “Die” Després (Anne Dorval), a flashy middle-aged woman who’s not afraid to show her leopard-patterned pants off to a crowd, Steve (Antoine-Olivier Pilon), Die’s hyperactive teenage son who lights his school’s cafeteria on fire before he even shows up on screen and Kyla (Suzanne Clément), their generally mild-mannered neighbor who slowly engrosses herself in Die and Steve’s lives while avoiding her own.
Steve’s relationship with Die is, to say the least, troubled. When he’s settled down, he evokes almost incestual feelings of love for his mother, putting on a boyish facade beneath his piercing blue eyes and blonde hair. Occasionally, and easily, though, the trigger goes off, and Steve isn’t held back from whatever he wants to yell at or destroy. Kyla comes into play shortly after Steve’s first outburst with his mother, but even she, with her cuddly house-mom figure and fluffy sweaters, needs a bit of exuberant force when dealing with Steve’s aggressive immaturity.
As preface to his story, Dolan situates the audience with one detail before the faces begin showing on screen: In the fictional near-future of “Mommy,” the Canadian government has imposed a law allowing for parents of troubled children to institutionalize them without interference from the law. It adds a social tinge to Dolan’s story that only embroils the tension of Die and Steve’s relationship – clearly Die is going to give in to this made-up law’s free pass to get away from her son by film’s end. But at what point? And at what cost?
It’s subtle ideas like this, and the way they are presented, that makes Dolan such an accessible filmmaker with such spirited ideas. “Mommy” is shot almost entirely in a 1:1 perfectly square ratio, as opposed to the usual widescreen format. With cinematographer André Turpin’s help, Dolan simplifies the focus of the film to close-up shots of the actors on screen, heightening every word, every thrown item, every often dissatisfied reaction.
He breaks this 1:1 mold twice during the film, at times that seem revolutionary. Even if Dolan’s career from this point on is creating new cinematic shticks like this one, it will have been entirely worth it.
Otherwise, “Mommy” is a wholesomely amusing ride that comes more to impress than surprise. Like in Dolan’s other films, the soundtrack is filled with inspired pop and rock selections that hit or miss when layered into the background of his frequently awkward story. One has to give credit to Dolan for what is probably the most wonderfully impassioned use of Oasis’ “Wonderwall” in film history, but aside from that, many of the musical moments can be deferred to the back of the mind.
And “Mommy” isn’t short of those elements as a whole – a good editor could probably shave down a half hour or so of Dolan’s final cut without losing much of the film’s consistent energy. But then, that’s not what the frequently trampled heart of “Mommy” is aiming for. The final scene, an exhilaratingly funny bit with all three characters, is a shot of harmonious filmmaking if there ever was one. Who cares how long it took to get to the product when it’s this sensational.
– Sebastian Torrelio
Email Torrelio at storrelio@media.ucla.edu.