Back in 2013 I remember watching Ned Benson’s debut feature film, The Disappearance of Eleanor Rigby, at the Toronto International Film Festival. The collective title of three films, written and directed by Benson, its work-in-progress cut was screened at TIFF that comprised two of the films, Him and Her, with the third, Them, premiering an year later at Cannes. The films were all about a collapsing marriage seen from the perspective of both the husband and the wife.
Mees Peijnenburg’s A Family does something similar, yet entirely different. A rare film that foregrounds the point of view of children facing the consequences of their parents’ divorce. It received a Special Mention from the Youth Jury of the Generation 14plus section at the recently concluded Berlinale. The jury stated that one in three children in Berlin face such disquietude in life and the film makes them feel seen.
The focus of A Family are siblings Nina (Celeste Holsheimer) and Eli (Finn Vogels). Caught in custody battles, deposing before the judge, torn between the two parents (Carice Van Houten and Pieter Embrechts) who they love and hate and feel loyal towards equally and are furious at for leaving them with a broken home and fractured family.
Told in two chapters, the film follows the same story and situations spread over three weeks, seen first from the sister’s and then the brother’s eyes. The crossover and repeated sequences in both their narratives bring out the ambiguities underlying the convoluted and unfathomable situation and the different ways in which each of them is processing and responding to it. For Nina it is a defining moment to consider escaping from the family while dealing with the issues centred on her own queer identity. For Eli it’s the time to dream of things getting back to normal, of celebrating birthdays together once again. In doing so both retreat into their own shells and in battling their inner demons get into an ugly conflict with each other. Both segments get rounded off in similar heartrending ways with their breakdowns.
The film doesn’t side with any of the players. Nor does it get judgmental. It makes for an immersive experience, one that takes the viewer along on the emotional journey of its characters. The film renders the emotions palpable with the writing, the camera and the performances, planting the viewers right in the middle of an intense exploration of the ugly juncture in their life.
A Family is unique, hard to shake off and most impactful for the faces of Holsheimer and Vogels and the many feelings that flit across them with the camera intently focused on them and framing them in tight closeups. We observe them observing their world falling apart. It’s tough to not well up seeing them packing bags, shuttling between two houses, neither of which feels like home.
The inner workings of their minds are captured with empathy and make for a profoundly affecting experience, especially how the loss and grief shatter their togetherness. The shared sorrow, rather than bringing them closer, drives them apart and turns each of them incredibly lonely.
It’s a quiet film drenched in sadness. But light at the end of the tunnel is their realisation that they are in it together, that in this struggle to survive, they have been around for each other, even if invisibly so.
Peijnenburg doesn’t lose faith in them and in the possibility of the two finding hope, healing and a sense of renewal in their own unbreakable bond and unconditional love and loyalty for each other. All it needs is a hug and sharing some chips.