Summer Hours

This was a lovely little film. It was definitely something that probably only someone over a certain age would really appreciate, and the cinema was pretty full of middle-aged people, and myself and the friend who accompanied me fitted in well. But then you would only really 'get' it if you'd had to deal with ageing parents, the dissolution of families as everyone carves out their individual lives, and the fractured nature of modern adult life.
It's one of those closely-observed portraits of modern bourgeois life that the French do so well - British versions, for example, Mike Leigh films, always seem to be satirical, laughing at middle-class pretensions. The French don't seem to be as hung up on class as us, and use such films to examine human nature and behaviour.
Anyway, Summer Hours was a treat. It's Helene's 70th birthday, and her 3 grown-up children and their families gather together in her country house, the family home. Helene is devoted, even obsessed with the memory of her uncle, a celebrated painter, and his works. She's a gracious lady who holds court in her extremely comfortable and well-appointed residence, though we become aware pretty quickly that there is a deep-rooted tension between each family member.
Helene dies - and the remainder of the film chronicles the adult children's wranglings over what to do with the house. The eldest wants to keep the property and Helene's art collection as something with which to hold the family together, but it's clear that his younger siblings aren't interested. One is off to China with his family to work, and the other is going to live in New York. The family is falling apart, but at the end the next generation gather at the house with their friends. Olivier Asseyas, the director, isn't interested in portraying nostalgia, though, and everyone's choices are seen as valid. He sees that times change, so do people and families. Those of us with grown-up children know all too well that families fracture, however close they seem. Differences are real, and often irreconcilable. We do our best, but everyone has their own very individual path.
I watched the latest instalment in the genealogy series on BBC last night, Who Do You Think You Are? It's an object lesson in the fissuring of families - sometimes events intercede, such as war and revolution, and there's nothing we can do about it.
Anyway, a film that has stayed with me. The final scenes, in which the children of the siblings and their friends hold an impromptu party at Helene's house, is filled with optimism. They run wild and care nothing for her art collection, but they are the future, like it or not.