father mother sister brother
Father Mother Sister Brother (2025)
Directed by Jim Jarmusch
I hesitate to call Jim Jarmusch’s new anthology film, Father Mother Sister Brother, comforting, particularly given how two of the three narratives involve estranged children attempting to connect with distant parents. But like a lot of my favorite Jarmusch films, from Stranger Than Paradise and Paterson, the filmmaker has the distinct capacity of uncovering deeply felt truths through painful, lived-in experiences. From the malaise of day-in, day-out struggles to seeing your life’s work eaten by a dog to simply existing through a dissonant period of boredom, Jarmusch’s films and his characters are often enveloped within a momentary pocket of benevolence. Even in his sillier outings like The Dead Don’t Die, these moments exist as a profound testament to the strength of human connection, and the love that surrounds us all. If this all sounds vaguely granola, it is, but it’s the subdued, dead-pan nature in which Jarmusch examines this that makes so many of his films valuable to me. Father Mother Sister Brother might not be my favorite Jarmusch film, but it’s the one I needed right now, and that’s more than I can possibly ask for.
The first of the three narratives involves a brother and sister (Adam Driver and Mayim Bialik) on the way to visit their father (Tom Waits). Driving through rural New Jersey on a cold winter afternoon, the two contemplate what their father does now that their mother is no longer with them. Her omission is one of the many chasms between the parent and children, as the father’s financial situation serves to strain the family, even if the children are incapable of piecing together the truth of his lifestyle outside of their family dynamic. The second narrative involves two profoundly different sisters (the uptight Cate Blanchett and the pink-haired leftist in Vicky Krieps) as they are on their way for lunch to visit their mother (Charlotte Rampling). The annual tradition is one of the only times the three gather together, where Rampling and Blanchett’s characters seem on edge about what they can share between each other. As the narrative closes, you gather the sense that all three are desperate for a connection deeper than what’s there. And the third narrative involves a twin brother and sister (Luka Sabbat and Indya Moore) in Paris, where the two are coping with the loss of their parents. They return to their childhood home, where the brother had already packed up and cleared everything into storage. The loss is something neither was prepared for, but in each other they find solace in knowing that they don’t need to have all the answers.
I filled in the blanks, because much of my more painful experiences involves the strains of dealing with difficult parents. Whether it’s a father I know so little about or a mother who refuses to pierce beyond epidermis level pleasantries, I saw my parents here, and myself. I also saw how my parents, too, can be afforded external lives that I so frequently bristled at in my youth. And particularly in Vicky Krieps’ character, I saw my own infantile way of contending with handling conflict by simply walking away. But ultimately, what I saw was the strength of my relationship to my brother, who now 2000 miles away, has stood by me as my Best Man at my wedding, and served to help me through life’s greatest obstacles. And who I look at and admire to see the kind of man he has become, better than me in all the ways that matter.