Director Florian Zeller portrays the desperate sense of dislocation that characterizes the ravages of dementia in this adaptation of his 2012 play. Time shifts are abrupt and unexpected and characters played by different actors, while circumstances change confusingly from moment to moment. Everything, in short, is kept up in the air, but the perspective remains that of the person experiencing the disorientation, an octogenarian widower played by Anthony Hopkins who—in a magisterial performance that is easily one of the best of his career—captures the mercurial nature of the stricken man with blistering intensity and conviction.
The character, also named Anthony, lives in an elegant London flat, using headphones to listen to operatic arias. He is visited by his daughter Anne (Olivia Colman), who is distressed that his most recent caregiver has quit, complaining that he had attacked her; he claims she was a thief. Anthony insists he does not need a nurse, but his plea for independence turns to fear when Anne reveals that she is moving to Paris. He becomes gallant when Laura (Imogen Poots), a young woman applying for the caretaking job, appears, though he finally dismisses her angrily. Anne is not always Colman; elsewhere she is played by Olivia Williams, and Anthony encounters her ex-husband first in the person of Mark Gatiss’ Bill, who is solicitous toward him, and then as Paul, played by surly Rufus Sewell.
There are also recurrent references to Anthony’s younger daughter, whom he desperately wants to see again—and eventually does, though in wrenching memory. In trying to make logical sense of all this, the viewer is effectively put in Anthony’s head, trapped in an ever-changing, fluid world he cannot control or comprehend. It is harrowing to live through the experience with Hopkins, who so totally inhabits the role that his every gesture and inflection seems unerringly right. All the other performers are splendid, but Colman stands out for capturing Anne’s sad observation of her failing father so well. No less important is the appearance of the film.
Though the action, apart from a heartbreaking coda, is confined to a single apartment, it avoids seeming static or stagey as a result of not only Zeller’s skillful molding, but discreet changes of décor that add to the sense of uncertainty, and subtle use of light and shadow that contributes to the unsettled atmosphere. As admirable as all the elements of The Father are, however, it is Hopkins’ astonishing performance that makes it one of the year’s very best films. The subject matter makes it hard to watch, especially for those caring for aging parents, but it is a devastatingly moving depiction of decline. Highly recommended. Editor’s Choice.