The Truth (2019) | REVIEW

Directed by Hirokazu Kore-eda — Screenplay by Hirokazu Kore-eda.

The first of his films not to be set in Japan, Hirokazu Kore-eda’s The Truth follows Fabienne Dangeville (played by Catherine Deneuve), an extremely famous French actress, as she welcomes her daughter, Lumir (played by Juliette Binoche), her son-in-law, Hank (played by Ethan Hawke), and her grandddagther, Charlotte (played by Clémentine Grenier), into her home while she’s about to release her memoir and shoot a science-fiction film. Fabienne’s selective memory, the fabricated stories in her memoir, and a talented co-star inspire Lumir to confront her mother about their relationship, as well as their memory of a certain family friend.

I’ve only seen a small handful of the films in Hirokazu Kore-eda’s oeuvre, so I won’t pretend to be an expert on his filmography. But through all of the films of his that I have seen thus far, this idea of found family versus actual family has persisted. Here it isn’t as obvious as in, say, Shoplifters, but you see it in how Juliette Binoche’s character remembers her family friend more fondly than she remembers her mother, whom she dismisses as an egotistical actress whose understanding of truth is limited to whether she perceives something to be convincing on the page, on the set, or if it is something she simply decides to be true. Catherine Deneuve, who is particularly strong here, plays the kind of on-screen legend/off-screen diva who, at first, appears to prioritize achievements over attachments. 

The primary theme here is obviously that of fact-versus-fiction, truth-versus-lie, and fabrication-versus-memory. The film features scenes depicting characters calling into question the veracity of stories included in Deneuve’s character’s soon-to-be-released memoir, scenes in which people comment on whether a person’s acting is believable, but also a scene in which the principal character is tricked by her memory in an interview that is meant to tell the truth, but which is in actuality redacted and, as the ending makes clear, will feature rehearsed answers delivered long after it was initially carried out. 

It is a film about the lies you tell yourself to be able to keep going, the lies you are willing to let others believe, the trickiness of truth and memory, and the performative aspects of our personalities that we put on for ourselves and others. There is a film-within-a-film and art-imitating-life sort of thing going on here with actors and scriptwriters seeing themselves and others that they know in the people on the set, and because of how the film plays around with fabricating core memories, apologies, and bonding sessions, the film made me think about whether or not truth can be scripted and whose script we follow in our familial relationships. Can we ever live up to the ideals set by society or conjured up in the minds of relatives, friends, or significant others? Are we satisfied with our parts, and could others play ours better? When we finally come up with what to say, will it be too late? And what do we do when our words fail to express what scriptwriters could do in their sleep?

Like the other Hirokazu Kore-eda films that I have seen, The Truth has a soft, naturalistic, and emotionally intelligent touch, but this film feels more relaxed in its pacing than I expected it to be. In addition to featuring strong work from French stars Juliette Binoche and Catherine Hawke (who excel both with harsh, armor-piercing zingers and effective but subtle comedy), it also features Ethan Hawke in the role of an American television actor whose limited understanding of French makes him feel quite oblivious to both awkward and comedic effect.

7.7 out of 10

– Review Written by Jeffrey Rex Bertelsen.