La vérité

This film is not what one may expect. Trailers leave one to think it's dramatic, but it's mostly a dramedy (comedy/drama), leaning more towards comedy. Deneuve has impeccable comedic timing, and it's a surprising side of her that many don't get to see in her numerous other films. Some reviews describe her character, Fabienne, as a narcissist, but those are clearly people who don't know what true narcissists are like. One can say that Fabienne is somewhat self-absorbed, though given that she's an actress, she is rather self-aware and not as selfish as one would expect (if you know the entertainment industry). Binoche and Deneuve have excellent chemistry on screen, and the difficulty in their relationship plays off well: both stylistically and emotionally. The film is a gentle view of a mother-daughter relationship that has been built on misunderstandings from two people who are quite different in their approach to the world around them. There are many laughs, but a few tears, awaiting the audience. It's one of Deneuve's best roles in a few years and she gives it her all. Binoche provides the more tangible emotions of the film, but don't let Fabienne (Deneuve) fool you into thinking she doesn't care or feel much at all. And that is the Truth.

If you wrote your own book to tell your own story how close would your memories be to reality and how much would you conjure up, especially in relation to your relations and relationships. An incisive piece of film making that may lead you to further reflection of your own, on how you've arrived at where you are today and any distortions you may have invented for sustenance, survival and to cover and embalm the scars.

A lackluster screenplay from an otherwise a very talented director gives way to this underwhelming drama with actors of star levels on their own. The film is structured mostly as a drama but the comedic undertones point at such a wonderful potential for a straight out clever comedy, it's frustrating to see the film never goes there. With a few tweaks on the screenplay, adding a few smart jokes to the dialogues this film could have been a great heart warming comedy with deep dramatic undertones. 6/10

I didn't get into the story at all. I find the film rather boring. Ethan Hawke is an insignificant vase in this film, which is quite a waste of his acting skills.

Catherine Deneuve without stretching plays a French cinema goddess, Fabienne, a diva who is the unremitting self-center of a family. All that and she underplays her to great effect that endears us to her as to her fans.

Although it's possible this comedy is a take on Deneuve's life, such an inference is unnecessary given Japanese director Hirokazu Koreeda's (Shoplifters) universal vision. Not only is Fabienne the essence of the superstar, she also represents the matriarch we all think of when we envision transcendent mom power.

Daughter Lumir (Juliette Binoche) and family visit mom in Paris to celebrate Fabienne's autobiography and role in a sci-fi where mother never grows old-now how fitting is that background? Given the scenery Deneuve could chew up, she has none of it. She softly throws in bits of sarcasm and bitchiness yet generally with an even temper, almost self-effacing, except she makes sure everything goes her way.

For cinematic reference points, strong mothers are countless; two come especially to mind: echoes of the mother's visit in Bergman's Autumn Sonata and an actress's moving in with mom in Postcards from the Edge. Koreeda's difference is the almost peaceful turns that could have been harrowing but end up being the natural flow of any family, not even an artistic one for that matter. You just need a strong mom.

Fabienne can't stop the aging process, which shows especially in her diffidence about her acting. However, none of this concern about aging detracts from her charm. To see the embodiment of an ageless French film icon and enjoy the central role a mother plays in all our lives, The Truth is, it's all true here with the work of a gifted Japanese director and a true film goddess.