The Truth
(Hirokazu Kore-eda)
In what frequently registers as Oliver Assayas-lite material, Hirokazu Kore-eda’s The Truth is the Japanese filmmaker’s first foray outside of his native tongue, shifting his concerns from the slums of a patchwork family in Shoplifters to the bourgeoisie of the French elite. In what would’ve been considered a dream project – this features one of Japan’s most accomplished contemporary filmmakers, two generations of the best French actresses in Juliette Binoche and Catherine Deneuve, and American-cinema’s preeminent everyman, Ethan Hawke - the results perhaps can’t quite escape the shadow cast by all involved. So gosh, yes, The Truth is no masterpiece and what you’ll have to settle for is: pretty good.
If the opening passages serve as a reminder, it’s Assayas’ Summer Hours, Clouds of Sils Maria, and Non-Fiction that would seemingly inform The Truth. The common thread these four films share is obviously Binoche, who as Lumir is a screenwriter returning home to her accomplished actress mother Fabienne (Catherine Deneuve). She brings her husband and daughter in tow (Ethan Hawke and Clémentine Grenier) with tensions rising when Lumir begins reading Fabienne’s fabricated memoir. If disappointment and vitriol arises from this moment, it goes mostly unresolved, as Kore-eda instead opts to explore Fabienne’s new film project. A science fiction project that serves to operate as a meta-discourse on Fabienne’s own preoccupations with aging, Kore-eda’s delicate touch often seems a little out of sorts for the narrative playful at hand, with portions of the plotting stalling or simply unraveling. Instead, The Truth is at its most persuasive when Kore-eda observes the scintillating rapport between Binoche and Deneuve. If Kore-eda is clumsy in navigating the meta-textual elements of the film, at the very least he reaffirms his tendency of being an actor’s director.