A quirky, intelligent and beautifully acted examination of love and loneliness, Beginners is a semi-autobiographical account of director Mike Mills’ relationship with his father. At 75, Hal (Christopher Plummer) is diagnosed with cancer, and finally admits that he is gay. Ironically, though Hal is determined to use his remaining time to live and love, his son Oliver (Ewan McGregor) is paralyzed by the fear of reliving his parents’ loveless marriage, and so over-analyses every tentative step he takes with the enigmatic beauty Anna (Mélanie Laurent.) A victim of both personal tragedy and postmodern angst, Oliver notes that his generation’s good fortune “allowed us to feel a sadness our parents never had time for.”
This generational gap becomes the theme of the film. As Oliver’s internalised fear of abandonment threatens his relationship with Anna, Hal is busy embracing the fun, flamboyant lifestyle that was denied to him for decades. It’s clear that while both men are searching for love, it is the differing politics of their generation that dictated their past experiences of it, and freedom to express it openly.
But the impact of this message is slightly undermined by Mills’ dependency on clichéd indie idiosyncrasies. Though his flashbacks, voiceovers, colour cards, vintage photographs and tinkling piano scores are each thoughtful, whimsical and often hilarious (who could resist subtitles expressing the philosophical musings of a Jack Russell?), collectively their gimmicky presentation could pass for self-indulgence.
Thankfully the superb lead performances keep the film grounded as Plummer radiates charm and warmth, while McGregor is brilliant as his complex and confused son, always searching for answers.
The word ‘evolve’ comes from the Latin evolvere, which means to unroll. Though Mills could do with untangling himself from the binds of indie conventions, his haunting yet humour-filled Beginners brilliantly explores the complexities of father-son relationships. And in so doing, he demonstrates that only by unrolling and exploring each generation’s tightly woven cocoon of fear, can love openly evolve and grow.