With cruel ease, human error can transform normal life into a living purgatory. A sudden car collision or a bad fall can drastically upend one’s existence with swift force. Inspired by real events, Slovakia’s hard-to-watch yet remarkably affecting Oscar entry, “Father,” chronicles the aftermath of a tragedy caused by unintended negligence. A devastating study in consuming guilt and evolving grief, the latest film from writer-director Tereza Nvotová grapples potently with the complicated nature of forgiveness, not only that which others grant us, but the one we harshly deny ourselves.
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Long uninterrupted takes provide a look into the life of a well-to-do family that will soon crumble. The camera of virtuoso cinematographer Adam Suzin behaves inconspicuously by design as it nimbly moves through the spaces, eventually pirouetting around the characters making us aware of its presence. The first of these set pieces drops us into an average morning as Michal (Milan Ondrík), the head of a magazine, finishes his daily run, showers and gets ready to head to the office as the city braces for a smoldering heatwave. On this seemingly mundane day, however, his wife Zuzka (Dominika Morávková) has tasked Michal with dropping their daughter Dominika (Dominika Zajcz) off at daycare.
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But within a few hours of meetings and phone calls, which provide insight into Michal’s state of mind, including his concern with his physical appearance, the run-of-the-mill activities give way to a nightmare. Though he vividly remembers Dominika getting out of the car, the girl has been sitting in the scorching vehicle for hours. “I’ve killed her,” Michal screams in a catatonic state, as the agile camera floats around him. Nothing short of earth-shattering, Ondrík’s performance transitions from the nonchalant demeanor of a stressed man at work to the utter and immediate mental wreckage of losing a child, compounded by knowing he’s the one responsible for the horrific occurrence.
How Nvotová and co-writer Dusan Budzak handle Zuzka’s response to the unspeakably traumatic event is chief among their strong narrative choices. Though Zuzka’s own heartache is palpable, her restraint and compassion toward Michal feels almost superhuman. To see her still holding his hand and stating, though not without anger, that she understands he would never purposefully endanger their daughter, marks an unexpectedly powerful display of empathy. The subdued sadness with which the marvelous Morávková plays Zuzka works in strong contrast to Ondrík’s intensity, almost as if Zuzka’s strength was a self-imposed duty to prevent Michal from going over the edge.
“Father” calls to mind “Rabbit Hole,” in which a couple also dealt with the death of their son. The key distinction is that, even if there’s a dream sequence that brings the viewer into Michal’s psyche, Nvotová’s film operates in unsentimental starkness.
When the police return the car where young Dominika perished, Michal must drive it out of the station, but just a few miles away, he’s overcome with debilitating emotion. Watching him cry inconsolably at the wheel is gut-wrenching, precisely because it comes across as spontaneous, warranted and never melodramatic. “Father” hinges on the visceral truthfulness that Ondrík’s turn imprints whenever he’s on screen. The actor portrays the heart-ripping burden Michal feels with such unvarnished realism, it’s unsettling to watch — and that’s certainly a compliment to his ability for conveying such chaotic rawness. It’s the kind of revelatory performance that’s impossible to ignore and even more difficult to shake off.
During the trial for his costly mistake, Michal, now sporting a full beard, exudes a palpable exhaustion, perhaps more spiritual than physical, which matches his despair-coated dialogue. When he says the outcome of the proceedings doesn’t concern him since nothing will bring his child back, one can’t help but believe every word. At one point, the camera flies away from the people in the room and looks through a high window. Outside, children play in a nearby park and people go about their day, unaware of the display of unbearable sorrow taking place just steps away. Rather than gimmicky, the camera movement proves graceful. Could we be watching from the perspective of a soul orbiting the living? Maybe Dominika herself is observing from above, a silent witness.
This otherwise devoted family man is reduced to a single lapse of judgment, presumably caused by his brain working on autopilot. And yet, how could a loving father ever forget his kid in the back of a boiling car? On a rational level, one can accept that Michal didn’t act with malice. But the court of public opinion and the emotions the case inherently ignites make a fair assessment challenging. Is there a world in which he could potentially be absolved — not only legally, but morally? And just as one gets the impression that “Father” will veer into a different tone, as Michal and Zuska momentarily surrender to a glimmer of hope, the rug is pulled from under them and they discover how others will always see them. At every turn it’s Nvotová’s outstanding direction, working between spontaneity and high-stakes orchestration, that yields a stirring feat.