Two Pianos (Deux Pianos)

 

Director Arnaud Desplechin

Desplechin with François Civil

Desplechin with Nadia Tereszkiewicz

Civil and Tereszkiewicz

Charlotte Rampling

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO PIANOS (Deux Pianos)           B+                                                                             France  (115 mi)  2025  ‘Scope  d: Arnaud Desplechin

Desplechin developed a reputation for writing some of the most natural dialogue in the movie industry, starting with MY SEX LIFE…OR HOW I GOT INTO AN ARGUMENT (1996), ESTHER KHAN (2000), KINGS & QUEEN (2004), and A CHRISTMAS TALE (2008), using a revolving stable of actors who moved on to impressive careers, while more recently he’s dabbled in smaller projects, 2015 Top Ten Films #7 My Golden Days (Trois souvenirs de ma jeunesse), a romantic and nostalgic take on memory and first love in this coming-of-age prequel to MY SEX LIFE, and Deception (Tromperie) (2021), an adaptation of a Philip Roth novel, where the lead protagonist, a novelist, describes himself as “a talk fetishist!” in one of the many conversations before, during, and after sex.  Desplechin also directed theatrical playwright August Strindberg’s The Father in 2015 and Tony Kushner’s Angels in America in early 2020, both playing at the esteemed Comédie-Française in Paris, where his innate sense of staging is evident here in an unconventional film featuring characters who are thrown into the middle of chaos.  All his films are intellectually challenging, dramatically compelling, and always curious, demonstrating a remarkable consistency in churning out quality films.  This is unlike anything else he’s ever done, particularly the way the story slowly advances, with frequent use of disorienting jump cuts and plenty of unspoken details, literally defying audience expectations with a non-resolution, growing smaller and smaller in scope, yet continually challenging audiences in unorthodox ways, adding to the magic and the mystery. Falling off the map in terms of accessibility, it’s hard to find Desplechin films anymore, even on streaming platforms, where his previous film is still unavailable in the United States, though they were once a staple of international arthouse films.  Known for his wit and literary inspirations, and for producing quality soul-bearing performances from a mix of known and unknown actors, this feels like the kind of film we used to see on a regular basis, but has disappeared from the landscape, so discovering this small gem is like rediscovering a bit of ourselves, a reminder of why we value cinema so much.  The original story and scenario were conceived by Arnaud Desplechin and Kamen Velkovsky, and then developed into a screenplay alongside Ondine Lauriot dit Prévost with collaboration from novelist Anne Berest.  In some ways it recalls Denis Dercourt’s THE PAGE TURNER (2006), a French psychological thriller revolving around a piano audition gone wrong, or the gritty underworld thriller by Jacques Audiard, The Beat That My Heart Skipped (De battre mon coeu... (2005), where a debt-collecting thug develops an interest in playing classical piano, like Zen therapy, also revolving around a piano audition, where in each case the serene calmness of the classical music world stands in stark contrast to the chaotic violence of the central storyline.  The original music is composed by Grégoire Hetzel in his 9th Desplechin film, but also Denis Villeneuve’s Incendies (2010), where the marvelous AMÉLIE-sounding accordion-led song over the end credits is a reminder that we’re watching a French film, even though it’s Italian, Parole di vento composed by Franco Ghigini YouTube (4:30).

In this case Desplechin mixes together two storylines about impossible love, an homage to Leo McCarey’s AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER (1957), the tale of a woman whose fate was sealed when she was very young because she had a child, and another story about a pianist who returns to his home country and catches sight of a child who is his exact double, sounding very much like a German fairy tale steeped in mystery, with the filmmaker returning to some of his favorite themes, psychologically charged homecomings and unexpected reunions.  Once a virtuoso child prodigy at the piano, Mathias (François Civil from Larry Abrahamson’s 2014 Top Ten List #10 Frank) returns to his provincial hometown of Lyon after spending eight years abroad teaching and performing in Japan, summoned by his mentor Eléna (Charlotte Rampling in her best role since 2016 in Andrew Haigh’s 45 Years), a celebrated older pianist who plans to retire and hopes he can perform with her in a concert for two pianos and orchestra in what will be her final performance.  Shooting in a city rarely featured in French films, other than Bertrand Tavernier and Lumière’s first studio, Desplechin showcases some iconic locations in Lyon, including the Parc de la Tête d'or, the two rivers running through the city, the cobblestone streets of Vieux Lyon, the city’s oldest district, and the Maurice Ravel Auditorium.  Arriving straight from the airport to a party in Eléna’s honor, still disheveled and disoriented and underdressed, where he is handed a tie at the door to look more formally appropriate, he mingles with her briefly before making a quick exit, but as he leaves he comes face to face with an arriving woman, Claude (Nadia Tereszkiewicz, impressive in Ozon’s The Crime Is Mine (Mon Crime) (2023), causing her to run right back out the door while Mathias faints on the spot.  More than foreshadowing, this sets the tone for the emotional turmoil that follows, as there’s an element of psychological unease lying beneath the surface for the rest of the film, which explores the source of this tension, as there is obvious emotional baggage that Mathias is carrying, like open scars that he cannot escape, as Claude is married to art gallery owner Pierre (Jérémy Lewin), his childhood best friend and rival in love, and the reason he fled to Japan.  The volatile temperament for such a talented artist comes as a surprise, as musicians are usually expressed by strict rigor and discipline, but this guy is all over the place, an artist in conflict with his own art, invariably too wrapped up in his own self-created problems.  Plunging him into bouts of heavy drinking, Mathias gets stinking drunk afterwards, with his benevolent, all-encompassing, father figure agent Max (Hippolyte Girardot) looking out for him, waiting patiently for him to wake up in the jail’s drunk tank, while Pierre dies suddenly in a car accident, leaving Claude stunned and devastated, left to raise her child Simon (Valentin Picard) alone.  While wandering through a park afterwards, Mathias can’t take his eyes off Simon for some reason, perched at the top of the pyramid on the playground, locking eyes just before he falls from a great height, but survives intact, amazingly, where it’s just a scare, but Mathias can’t help but think this child looks just like him at that age, asking his mother to pull out a family photo to confirm his suspicions.

An alluring mystery where music, memory, and identity merge and threaten to overwhelm the tender psyche of a virtuosic pianist, this homecoming does not go as planned, as Mathias is not that invincible force of nature that serious performing artists tend to be, like the touring performance artist Eléna, who reminds him at the party, “I was built for war,” as she chastises him for not touring constantly and sharing his gift to the world.  Her implacable reserve commands respect, protecting herself like a mighty fortress, but this icy demeanor allows her to go anywhere at any time and play without the use of a score, committing it all to memory, like a force of nature.  Mathias, on the other hand, has tragic weaknesses, where both he and Claude share deeply buried passions and unspoken truths that bond them together, yet they can’t be together, as long ago she chose Pierre, leaving him completely devastated.  This has left him more passive and emotionally vulnerable, as he’s still in love with her, which is evident every moment they spend together, as sparks are in the air, with surprising results, as she welcomes that undivided attention, especially in her grief, but she’s also not ready to commit to him, even as he devours her with his eyes.  Channeling his lust for Claude spills over into a brief affair with Pierre’s younger sister and Claude’s best friend, Judith (Alba Gaïa Bellugi).  The acting in this film is superb, brilliantly filmed in ‘Scope by Paul Guilhaume, who recently filmed two of Jacques Audiard’s most impressive looking films, 2021 #6 Film of the Year Paris, 13th District (Les Olympiades, Paris 13e) in black and white and the colorful musical Emilia Pérez (2024).  His constant handheld camera movements create an unbearable suspense, shooting without dollies, without tracking shots, and without a tripod, always countering the classicism of the story they were telling.  Centered around our biggest regrets, music plays a big role in the film, with selected classical pieces by Bartók, Debussy, Chopin, and Bach, lofty giants that performers can find refuge in the complexities of their music, which is the same thing that happens here, with the music expressing underlying emotional layers that can never be expressed verbally.  Mixing old world and new world characters, the film is a kind of fantasy-melodrama, much of it taking place in interior spaces, where the three main multi-lingual performers, Civil, Tereszkiewicz, and Rampling beautifully portray just how profoundly debilitating their respective emotional worlds can be, like pulling the rug out from underneath them, sending them into a dizzying freefall without a clue where they will land.  These are stories of isolated characters who come together for an all-too brief moment and embrace in order to escape the depths of their solitude, weighed down by grief and sorrow, then inevitably return to it, as this solitude is obviously a protective strength for them.  The film is pure poetry, exploring the underlying layers of emotional worlds that is rare to see, not with this degree of assurance, which feels surprising in this day and age, and altogether missing in modern American films, yet it is the essence of cinema in the best possible sense, as beauty is timeless.  While he may not be spoken in the same breath as Rivette, Rohmer, or even Truffaut, Desplechin is a major force in world cinema.

Father Mother Sister Brother

 

Writer/director Jim Jarmusch

Jarmusch at Venice

Jarmusch on the set

MOTHER FATHER SISTER BROTHER                B+                                                         USA  Italy  France Ireland  Germany  (110 mi)  2025  d: Jim Jarmusch

If too many people like a film I make, I feel like I’ve done something wrong.

I don’t know where the hell she came from in this case, but I generally bring an idea with me for about a year, sometimes more than one, until I finally start writing, very quickly.  In this case it took me three weeks.

My favorite thing is to wake up and have no plan.
—Jim Jarmusch

This is Jarmusch’s version of an Ozu film, exploring the personality-driven intricacies of complex family dynamics, where it’s all about the silences between the characters, as the emotional weight of the film is the exploration of that undiscovered interiority, creating a quietly contemplative aspect to the viewing experience, which seems like an anti-action, puzzle-piece counterpoint to what we’re used to seeing, funny, tender, and astutely observed, yet more than anything it feels personal and refreshingly honest, told in a triptych style, a technique often used in both cinema and literature, and a device he has used before, which is difficult to pull off as invariably some episodes are stronger than others.  In this case they are brilliantly blended together by editor Affonso Gonçalves, while shot in New Jersey, Dublin, and Paris by two extraordinary cinematographers, Frederick Elmes, who shot the first chapter, and Yorick Le Saux, who shot the second and third.  Like all Jarmusch films, this is an experience where nothing and everything happens all at once, where the key is deciphering the many clues hidden between the lines, as there’s plenty of deception or hidden secrets with parents who are protective of their children.  Strangely rejected by the Cannes Film Festival, many have dismissed this as a minor film, in much the way Haiku poetry is derided in the poetry world, too small, abstract, yet it still paints a vivid picture, suggesting there is something noble about the power of art, which can also be terribly deceptive.  This is indisputably the work of a mature artist growing older, grappling with their own sense of mortality, as this is simply where the mind wanders when you get older, feeling spacious and ponderous and completely unpretentious, where there’s something so ordinary and believable about it, with the filmmaker stating his goal, “We wanted to make a small, quiet film.”  Among the earliest and more memorable discoveries of this filmmaker came with the hard-to-find Mika Kaurismäki documentary film, TIGRERO: A FILM THAT WAS NEVER MADE (1994), with Sam Fuller bringing Jarmusch deep into Brazil’s Mato Grosso rain forest jungle, interacting with the Indigenous Karajá people, a group Fuller met and filmed in the mid 50’s for a film that was never made.  The hip modernism Jarmusch brings to such an isolated and secluded region is hard to fathom, as this presents him in a uniquely different light, seeing him in such a remote area wearing a Ramones T-shirt, literally expanding our conception of an artist.  Singer Tom Waits has been part of Jim Jarmusch’s regular cast since the utterly hilarious jailbreak-on-the-bayou movie, DOWN BY LAW (1986), while other notable films include the three-act STRANGER THAN PARADISE (1984), an example of plotless, low-budget, independent filmmaking, Mystery Train (1989), another triptych, a musical pilgrimage to Memphis, Tennessee, home of Sam Phillips and Sun Records, Night on Earth (1991), with five interconnecting, chance encounter stories involving a taxi cab driver and passengers in five cities, Dead Man (1995), an acid western, and still, arguably, his best film, GHOST DOG: THE WAY OF THE SAMURAI (1999), a samurai assassin gangster flick, COFFEE AND CIGARETTES (2003), eleven vignettes connected by the titular theme, BROKEN FLOWERS (2005), a cross-country road trip reconnecting with former lovers, THE LIMITS OF CONTROL (2009), an immersion into the haunted, surreal atmosphere of a paid assassin, Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), a vampire flick, Paterson (2016), a tribute to New Jersey poet William Carlos Williams via a modern day bus driver, and The Dead Don't Die (2019), another absurdist zombie movie.

Winner of the Golden Lion (1st place) at the 2025 Venice Film Festival, carefully constructed to allow small details to accumulate, reminding viewers just what it is to be a film poet, it opens with a hauntingly personalized, bass-heavy jazz performance of “Spooky” by British-German singer-songwriter Annika Henderson (aka Anika), Spooky YouTube (2:11), an original Classics IV song from 1967 that essentially establishes the mood and sets the stage for what follows.  Six years since his last feature, the first thing we notice is that Ozu’s pillow shot transitions (The enigmatic 'pillow shots' of Yasujiro Ozu) have been replaced by abstract flickering light passages between episodes, giving us some time to reflect upon what we see happening onscreen, with each of the three sections taking place in the home of a parent where their estranged children come to reconnect.  Opening on a windy, countryside road filled with bare trees and fresh snow on the ground, two siblings, Jeff and Emily (Adam Driver and Mayim Bialik, apparently catching the eye of Jarmusch as his favorite Jeopardy host) chat amiably on their way to visit their widowed and reclusive father at his lake house, sharing their assessment that he’s not a very trustworthy figure in their lives, turning out to be none other than a grizzled old, confusing-looking Tom Waits, who provides the film’s most powerful performance.  Jeff seems concerned about his financial situation since the death of their mother, wondering how he’s getting by, leading a hermetic life, where everything appears run down, offering assistance when he can, bringing along a box of groceries, while Emily is more skeptical about just how dire his situation is.  The setting of the house, situated right on a lake, is to die for, where anyone would dream of living in a house like that, with the camera lingering on the giant-sized window overlooking the lake.  Nonetheless, the father mentions there are a multitude of needed repairs, but suggests he’s doing as well as he can, but seems to be playing the sympathy card.  Jeff falls for it hook, line, and sinker, while Emily is rather amused by it all, pointing out that he’s wearing an expensive Rolex watch, which the father quickly claims is a fake, where the real drama comes only after they’ve left, placing everything we’ve seen before in a different light.  The truism that Jeff reveals is that you can pick your lovers and friends, but you can’t choose your own family, which more than ever rings true in these interconnected segments.  Written by Jarmusch, this episode sets the tone for spare, minimalist dialogue, with plenty of embarrassing and uncomfortable pauses in between to convey emotional distance, balancing wry, offhanded humor with a steady drip of information, while always remaining understated and moody, with something of an abstract, rhythmic flow about it.  A choreography of interpersonal relationships, pondering whether we ever really know the people closest to us, it shares the methodology of South Korean director Hong Sang-soo films, the maker of small, minimalist dramas, as both filmmakers rely upon the power of observation, with no sentimentality and no false drama, devising intimate scenes with powerful performances where awkwardness prevails, replete with lies, resentment, and love, where this is like the antithesis of a Mike Leigh film, where so much of this would otherwise be so wrenchingly despairing.  What’s most amusing is that Waits has always had something of a subterranean Beat poet vibe, where even at this late stage in his life (age 76), he’s still got a rebellious streak.    

While this is something of an actor’s showcase, with the filmmaker allowing plenty of empty space and room to breathe, remaining subtle and impressive, with a keen eye for detail, yet it begs the question, when was the last time we really talked to our families?  The moving presence of skateboarders is a recurring motif, seen in slow motion directly in the middle of the country road in the opening, while darting in and out of the streets of Dublin and Paris in the next segments.  A contrast between this youthful endeavor and ruminations on mortality is immediately evident.  Two sisters who couldn’t be more diametrically different, a punkish, pink-haired Vicky Krieps as free-spirited Lillith and the much more uptight, conservatively-repressed, almost invisible presence of Cate Blanchett as Timothea reunite with their imperial mother (Charlotte Rampling), a successful novelist who refuses to speak about her work, for their annual afternoon tea, the only time all year when they actually get together, though they all live in Dublin.  Their relations are nothing less than strained, where it all feels so terribly formal, as the host mother has impeccably arranged finger food with an assortment of delectable pastries in an immaculate house where everything is in place.  The conversation feels distant and camouflaged, a chamber piece of passive-aggressiveness, with each daughter vying for attention while struggling with insecurities in their personal and professional lives.  All dressed in the color red, as if pre-arranged, Father Mother Sister Brother Exclusive Movie Clip - Color ... YouTube (2:07), the domineering mother, offering a sense of cold authority, appears to be very high maintenance, while her children come to represent unfulfilled expectations, which may have led to uncomfortable childhoods, so they fidget around nervously at the table, expressing some disquieting tension, where the picture of perfect décors hides what’s simmering underneath, leaving viewers undoubtedly perplexed by what’s not being said.  The final chapter is notable for the parents not being present, as Indya Moore as Skye and Luka Sabbat as Billy are twin black siblings cleaning out a Paris apartment following the mysterious death of their parents in a tragic airplane crash.  Their closeness is immediately evident, seen hugging, kissing, and holding hands as they meet in a café before visiting a now-empty apartment that Billy has taken great care to save all the belongings, seen in an excursion to a local storage locker, but it’s unclear what they plan to do with it all.  These American émigré parents led extremely private yet unorthodox lives, perhaps involved in some spy stuff with multiple identities, and their unconventional lifestyle has left an imprint on their children, both raised in Paris, inquisitive and extremely well educated, where after going through some old photos, childhood drawings, and multiple fake documents, they both become aware of how little they actually knew about them.  There’s even a cameo appearance from the building landlord, Françoise Lebrun from Jean Eustache’s revered magnum opus The Mother and the Whore (La Maman et la Putain) (1973), who reveals that the parents died owing three months’ rent, and that she personally prevented the insurance company from seizing their belongings, an act of kindness that suggests she may have known more about them than her own family.  In their memories there is warmth and tenderness, still learning little secrets about their parents while browsing through their things, discovering small unexplained mysteries.  Blending humor and melancholy, capturing the frustrating yet essential nature of family bonds, the film relies heavily on subtext, recurring visual cues, and uncomfortable silences to convey deep-seated emotions and complex histories, with Dusty Springfield singing a riff on the opening song, Dusty Springfield - Spooky (Just Dusty) - 04 02 1971 • TopPop YouTube (2:39), while a musical collaboration between Jarmusch and Annika Henderson creates a haunting soundtrack, Father Mother Sister Brother | 2025 | Jim Jarmusch & Anika | Original Motion Picture Soundtrack | Original Score | OST, with the Jackson Browne song These Days YouTube (3:35) playing out over the end credits, with the delicate voice of Anika sounding like a reincarnation of The Velvet Underground’s Nico.