THE STORY – 1957. In Budapest, after the uprising against the Communist regime, a young Jewish boy, Andor, raised by his mother with idealized tales of his deceased father, has his world turned upside down when a brutish man appears, claiming to be his true father.
THE CAST – Bojtorján Barábas, Andrea Waskovics, Grégory Gadebois, Elíz Szabó, Sándor Soma & Marcin Czarnik
THE TEAM – László Nemes (Director/Writer) & Clara Royer (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 132 Minutes
The aftermath of war can wreck an incredible amount of havoc on its citizens. The effects have huge rippling effects across a great length of time. It’s an arena László Nemes has already explored in his Oscar-winning film “Son of Saul.” That was a more direct commentary on the staggering losses that are incurred during one of history’s darkest chapters. Being embedded at the heart of the atrocity, while most of the darkest moments remained hidden in shadow or only heard in the distance, was a striking and effective rendering. The same war is featured in “Orphan,” his latest work, but its analysis of these effects has more layers that stretch outward. In doing so, it presents a story that can be compelling, but also struggles to wrangle all its elements into a cohesive whole.
It has now been some time after the events of the Second World War, and Hungary has found itself under the thumb of Soviet occupation after the failed uprising that sought to remove Russian control of the country. Andor (Bojtorján Barabas) has yet to fully adjust to his surroundings after being initially abandoned by his family and left in an orphanage for some time. With his father displaced by the government and his mother (Andrea Waskovics) working a menial job, Andor’s life feels unfulfilled and aimless. That feeling of malaise is quickly interrupted by the arrival of Berend (Grégory Gadebois), who has claimed to be his real father and intends to marry his mother. It’s a proposal Andor cannot tolerate, and he starts to find more information about this stranger to try to prevent another possible tragedy from befalling on his family.
What is immediately apparent is the lush visual aesthetic that Nemes has once again created. The cinematography by Mátyás Erdély has a rich, textured look that utilizes the 35mm in all its glory. The imagery captures an accurate sense of being thrown back in time, reminiscent of old sepia photographs that are brought vividly to life. There is even an incredible attention to detail to ensure a frame of black occasionally occurs in between some scenes, mimicking the appearance of a reel change on a digital print. These elements are complemented by an immersive soundscape, where the echoes of machinery reflect the harsh living conditions, and the quiet whispers hint at the intimate spaces that force the characters’ emotions to confront each other in stark intimacy. The filmmaking is on top form here, continually enchanting in its showcase of a tragically beautiful world that exists. Nemes continues to demonstrate a proficiency in this craft, and his efforts to display the landscape truly feel awe-inspiring at times.
However, the film’s narrative is decidedly more challenging when it comes to showcasing a captivating atmosphere. The storytelling takes a good while to find its footing. The introduction meanders through young Andor’s life at a tedious pace. He listlessly drifts into several encounters without much establishment to ground the story: annoying his mother at the grocery store where she works, embedding himself with a local theater troupe, uncovering a secret plot where his friend is hiding her revolutionary brother, who is being hunted by the Soviet police. Individually, these aspects of the story are all engrossing. However, the way Nemes and co-writer Clara Royer conceive these entrances lacks a strong foundation of connectivity, which makes these elements feel disjointed and lethargic. Even Berend’s first appearance doesn’t immediately instill a sense of urgency, except for a vague discomfort with this new patriarchal figure. It’s not until Andor starts his own quest to discover more about the secret past of this man that the narrative finally has a hook to invest in. However, even with that, the thematic exploration is based on the familiar family drama tropes that have been seen before, and not too much variation is found within the dynamic of an abusive man trying to claim ownership over a vulnerable family. The second half may become more enthralling, but it also isn’t innovative enough to compensate for the rough start.
Anchoring the success of a film on a child’s performance can always be a tricky endeavor, but, fortunately, Barabas delivers an absorbing turn as the central figure. This isn’t a character experiencing an unusual childhood, but there is still a relatable angst present within every child that he successfully conveys. The anguish felt in his gaze when he looks upon the horrible circumstances life has given him is palpable, and the unrelenting sorrow that creeps in when despair is overwhelming is a pretty powerful portrayal. It’s a great foil to what Gadebois delivers, who has the difficult task of making a monster seem relatable, or at the very least, presentable in a way that could almost make him appealing. It’s a thin veneer that doesn’t do much to hide the simmering rage underneath, which is soon brought to a boil during a harrowing and disturbing moment of domestic violence. It’s a challenging role that Gadebois manages to navigate well. Waskovics, unfortunately, isn’t given many notes outside of the suffering mother, though her performance is still capable of being effective, despite the lacking material. The only other ensemble member who makes an impact is Marcin Czarnik as a member of the theater group. He only has a handful of scenes, but there is such a commanding screen presence that carries the weight of a haggard life that can still speak to the great anger and disappointment of the world around him. He manages to be quite effective with very little screentime.
One could be tempted to say that the crafts alone would be worthy to make “Orphan” an incredible work. Indeed, the cinematography does a magnificent job at composing a realistic atmosphere that is transportive, and the rest of the filmmaking supports this immersive feeling within the environment. The performances support this argument as well, as the whole ensemble is filled with capable actors who bring these roles to life in a manner that is both touching and memorable. Unfortunately, much of the film’s success is weighed down by the laborious screenplay, which fails to establish a more stimulating setting to explore. Even when the storytelling improves in the second half, there’s little innovation in its commentary to make this a novel endeavor. Even though there are still endless possibilities to discuss the aftermath of these great conflicts spread throughout history, this one’s execution is too flawed to be entirely riveting, despite some components being still worthy of praise.
