Film Reviews

PETITE MAMAN: HANKIES READY F ollowing her smouldering love story Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019), French writer-director Céline Sciamma returns with a piece about growing pains, obligation and the mixed blessing of being a daughter.

An old soul of a whole eight years, Nelly (Joséphine Sanz) mourns the death of her grandmother, whose house in the countryside is getting packed up around her. When Nelly’s mother Marion (Nina Meurisse) silently leaves overnight – a choice made, presumably, for emotional preservation – the girl, bored and lonesome, goes wandering in the woods. There she encounters her double (Gabrielle Sanz, Joséphine’s twin). Two peas in a pod, the kids are alike in every way. Even more curious: Nelly’s new friend shares her mum’s name.

Petite Maman may sound like an unnerving fairytale, but it’s grounded in a pleasant naturalism, painted with warm autumnal colour. It is about time travel, in a sense, but where Sciamma’s going, she doesn’t need flux capacitors. This story of inheritance, in all its forms, is fuelled by grief’s blue flame.

Since first meeting Petite Maman at last year’s Berlinale, I’ve been eagerly awaiting a local release. It’s set to gently envelop cinemas here from 5 May, just in time for Mother’s Day – a ritual that can evoke big feelings across the sentimental spectrum. Whether your mum’s in the picture, or fate has made you your own best caregiver, Petite Maman will comb through even your tightest emotional knots, and hold your hand throughout. AK

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Not much is known about the mysterious writer/director Kogonada, but his debut film, Columbus (2017), certainly made him a director to watch. After Yang, his second film, is set in a strangely familiar future of self-driving cars and boutique human-like androids, where quiet and reserved couple Jake (Colin Farrell) and Kyra (Jodie Turner-Smith) adopt an infant from China. Concerned that their daughter will lose her connection to her heritage, they also purchase a supposedly ethnically Chinese android (Justin H Min as Yang) to assume the role of her older brother. When Yang breaks down, Jake attempts to fix him, but instead he and his family come to understand who Yang really was to them, and who they are to each other. After Yang is too thoughtful to definitively answer the questions it raises about family, identity and what makes us human, instead providing us with an amalgam of possibilities and metaphors. The result is a more interesting and poignant film that stakes a claim as one of the year’s best. KHALID WARSAME

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When putting together an A-list odd couple, Sandra Bullock and Channing Tatum are dependable options: through star power and genetic good fortune, they’ve both charmed their way through buddy-cop comedies before. The formula feels half-arsed in this Romancing the Stone rehash, where she’s a “sapiosexual” romance novelist and he’s her beefcake cover model. Loretta’s (Bullock) readers don’t give a crap about her archaeological exposition, only admiring Dash’s (Tatum) buns – basically the same approach taken by the film’s five screenwriters. The first half of this action-adventure rom-com is spent on scenes with Daniel Radcliffe’s effete villain and Brad Pitt’s macho rescuer, leaving little room for romance or comedy to build between our game leads once they’re stranded in a green-screen jungle. Bullock gives her all to physical gags in her fuchsia sequinned jumpsuit – not advisable attire for climbing cliffs – but ideally your big action set pieces shouldn’t be outshone by a single notable costume. Or Tatum’s lack of one. ELIZA JANSSEN

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Director Ryûsuke Hamaguchi’s Drive My Car was nominated for four Oscars this year, bagging the Best International Feature Film statue. This is his “other” film, shot (for the most part) shortly before its more visible companion, though no less deserving of a look. Split into three vignettes, the film deals with love triangles, missed connections, accidents and happenstance, as the hand of fate spins the titular wheel in the lives of folks seeking emotional connection. Fashion model Meiko (Kotone Furukawa) is drawn to an old flame; listless wife and mum Nao (Katsuki Mori) tries to honeytrap her ex-professor (Kiyohiko Shibukawa); and Natsuko’s (Fusako Urabe) case of mistaken identity leads to an afternoon of ephemeral tenderness. Bittersweet but unpretentious, Wheel turns in the wistful breeze of what might have been. The design is sparse, the camera often static, as two-hander scenes unroll free of any clear intervention. It leaves plenty of space for the honest performances, sweetened with humility. AIMEE KNIGHT