“Father Mother Sister Brother” is that oddest of cinematic paradoxes. It’s not an exceptionally distinguished work, either on its own merits or in the context of writer-director Jim Jarmusch’s filmography. It’s not particularly enjoyable to watch or consider in retrospect. And yet, it’s capable of stirring deep, profound sadness in its simplicity.
READ MORE: 2025 Venice Film Festival Preview: 23 Must-See Films To Watch
Working within the familiar form of an anthology film, Jarmusch lays out three compact family sagas in compartmentalized sections. “Father” follows a visit from two siblings, Adam Driver’s Jeff and Mayim Bialik’s Emily, as they face a fraught conversation with their patriarch (Tom Waits) over his health and finances. “Mother” chronicles a once-yearly tea between Charlotte Rampling’s titular character and her two distant daughters, Cate Blanchett’s Timothea and Vicky Krieps’ Lillith. “Sister Brother” observes the reunion of two twins, Indya Moore’s Skye and Luka Sabbat’s Billy, as they attend to some final matters of their late parents’ estate.
None of these make for particularly revelatory short stories. Spending thirty minutes and change with each group of characters does not allow for them to be fleshed out as much more than archetypes. These are compressed scenes, stage-like and small in scope, that represent complicated yet familiar dynamics in miniature.
There’s no “we’re all connected” hook to “Father Mother Sister Brother,” either. Every section stands on its own, although a few intriguing similarities hint at some psychic throughlines: the presence of skateboarders, the odd coincidence that all the family members wear the same colors, the repeated mentions of Nowheresville and Rolex, the toasts with non-alcoholic beverages. Fans of Jim Jarmusch may recognize a similar narrative device from his 1989 film “Mystery Train,” but comparisons to much else in the director’s work largely falter from there. Aside from “Father” building to an incredibly wry punchline few other directors have the discipline to pull off, this omnibus tale largely operates in a staid mode of storytelling. It’s unblinkingly serious about the gravity of its stakes, even though no particular moment seems to take on an outsized resonance in the characters’ lives.
“Father Mother Sister Brother” plays out like a mournful flipside to Jarmusch’s catalog that illuminates a dark strain running through his body of work about independent, free-thinking loners. At the heart of each story is a battle between the obligations of familial love and the need for individual autonomy. It becomes genuinely unnerving that Jarmusch never undercuts the sincere struggles on display with his penchant for a dry joke or a choice needle drop. For a filmmaker who would be legendary for his use of music in film solely based on the deployment of Screamin’ Jay Hawkins‘ “I Put a Spell on You” in “Stranger than Paradise,” the silence in “Father Mother Sister Brother” is deafening. The film dwells on its pregnant pauses to turn up the volume on what these characters are not saying to one another.
While its premise begins as a drama about intergenerational relations, “Father Mother Sister Brother” blossoms into a much richer tapestry that speaks to the value of interpersonal communications within a family at large. The weight of each unexpressed emotion or unspoken question begins to accumulate until it becomes almost too much to bear. If ever there were a work to signify that a former indie film wunderkind has become a sage septuagenarian, this would be it.
Jarmusch is nothing short of merciless in his observations of the missed opportunities for rapprochement throughout the film. Even in “Sister Brother,” the twins’ spiritual communication with their late mother through her favorite song feels as sour as it does sweet. Proxies, such as memories or the paper trail they leave behind, can only go so far in approximating the power of a real conversation. Whether children won’t or can’t talk to their parents matters little to Jarmusch. Everyone is worse off for staying comfortable and unbothered in their own cocoon of self-reliance.
While the components of “Father Mother Sister Brother” might be easy to sum up in a quick logline, all the things that don’t happen feel like equally significant narrative developments. Jarmusch conjures that rare magic of creating absence through presence. The film exists outside of boundaries of “good” or “bad.” It’s just true, which makes it scarier in many ways. The melancholy doesn’t just live inside Jarmusch’s world. It leaps off the screen and demands to be felt. [B]
Follow along with all our coverage of the 2025 Venice Film Festival.
