The House by the Sea | Little White Lies

The House by the Sea

11 Jan 2019 / Released: 11 Jan 2019

Close-up of two people embracing, a man with grey hair and a woman with dark hair.
Close-up of two people embracing, a man with grey hair and a woman with dark hair.
3

Anticipation.

Guédiguian has worked with proficiency over the years.

3

Enjoyment.

Far from easy going, but the Ki Lo Sa? sequence carries exceptional warmth.

3

In Retrospect.

A languorous look at family and modernity that only just manages to give each their due.

Direc­tor Robert Guédigu­ian brings togeth­er a famil­iar cast for this intro­spec­tive coastal drama.

The future of France and the fam­i­ly unit are cen­tral to this new work by vet­er­an direc­tor Robert Guédigu­ian. Fred Ulysse plays Mau­rice, the ail­ing patri­arch of a frag­ment­ed fam­i­ly. His three chil­dren return to their pic­turesque home­land in the Bouch­es-du-Rhone to see how much of it, and they, have changed.

The way the film sub­tly charts fam­i­ly dynam­ics and sociopo­lit­i­cal upheaval in the region is no mean feat, even if it does buck­le under the weight of its own mod­est ambi­tions. Guédiguian affirms him­self as a stel­lar crafts­man of tone, his sta­tion­ary cam­era empha­sis­ing the encroach­ing stag­na­tion of this swift­ly gen­tri­fy­ing com­mu­ni­ty. His deci­sion to ele­vate sound design, dis­miss­ing any kind of score, cre­ates a sense of tranquility.

The cau­tious Ari­ane Ascaride takes cen­tre stage, deliv­er­ing a trag­ic, albeit one-note per­for­mance. Her sense of vacan­cy, how­ev­er, is coun­tered by Jean-Pierre Darroussin’s lay­ered turn as her broth­er, fluc­tu­at­ing from cyn­ic, to per­vert, to utter­ly sym­pa­thet­ic vic­tim of pater­nal influ­ence. Peri­od­ic flash­backs show how their char­ac­ters arrived at this point, and one is tak­en from the director’s 1986 film fea­tur­ing the same cast, Ki Lo Sa?.

Elderly man speaking to two people, one with red hair, by water's edge.

The film touch­es on issues of social mobil­i­ty and immi­gra­tion, as well as the gen­er­a­tional rift between the char­ac­ters which has helped to define their own (often diver­gent) polit­i­cal ide­olo­gies. The inno­cent por­tray­al of youth jux­ta­pos­es the harsh real­i­ty of age in one of many recur­ring visu­al motifs. While these con­cerns are clear­ly impor­tant to the film­mak­er, they often feel stri­dent and obvious.

The House by the Sea cov­ers a lot of ground, and while a third-act segue is set up, it feels tacked on to the domes­tic dra­ma that unfolds in the pre­ced­ing hour. Nonethe­less, the finale offers a cathar­tic and sur­pris­ing­ly opti­mistic con­clu­sion. Guedigu­ian does try to jug­gle too much here, but occa­sion­al flick­ers of bril­liance still man­age to shine through.

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