The brilliance of family, supportively nurturing and caring for one another, intimate bonds strengthened over time, often challenged by organically generated conflicts, still loving in its unconscious bedlam, stabilized volatility cohesively generating truth.
Anne Émond's Les ȇtres chers (Our Loved Ones) introduces one such family, and lovingly blends their harmonies and tragedies, suicide haunting their intergenerational dialogues, a son struggling to comprehend, a granddaughter artistically responding.
The overwhelming joy corresponding to a particularly tender period of time cripples as it fades, the knowledge that it cannot be reproduced shattering a fragile sensibility, impatient as it slowly ages, unable to see future joys to come.
The film isn't really that sad, rather, it's a wonderfully humble and cheerful low key moderation of a family that grows together over time, focused intently on David (Maxim Gaudette) and his daughter Laurence (Karelle Tremblay), beautifully highlighting different moments which subtly caress time passing.
Its gentle warmth gracefully tends a humanistic modesty whose sweetly flowing aesthetic embrace makes you wish you could hug someone close to you, like sitting around a campfire or snuggling beneath a comforter.
It calmly and solemnly warns against becoming too caught up in innocent ecstasies, by depicting what is lost through premature departure, without condemning those who decide to quietly slumber.
Equitable.
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