Father, Mother, Sister, Brother

Jim Jarmusch turns the remake into a quiet family ritual

Jim Jarmusch is as unhurried an artist as can be, both in his method of filmmaking as in his style. This has made him stand out as the rest of the world accelerates and shortening attention spans demand crammed and manic narrative rhythms. Jarmusch’s films of the last decade have been playing with cinematic trends, with Jarmusch taking a pop sensation and changing it into his own counterprogrammed and contemplative take. This was true of the vampire flick with Only Lovers Left Alive (2013) and The Dead Don’t Die (2019) with the zombie genre. Now he takes aim at the remake with the Venice Golden Lion winner: Father, Mother, Sister, Brother (2025).

Father, Mother, Sister, Brother is made up of three short films, which each remake the same story: a pair of estranged siblings come together to take stock of their relationship with their parents. The first story follows the prim siblings Jeff (Adam Driver) and Emily (Mayim Balik) who visit their seemingly wayward and scruffy father (Tom Waits) in rural New Jersey. The second story takes place in England, where influencer Lilith (Vicky Krieps) and preservationist Timothea (Cate Blanchett) visit their mother (Charlotte Rampling) for their annual awkward tea party. The final story follows American twins Skye (Indya Moore) and Billy (Luka Sabbat) in Paris as they empty out their parents’ apartment after their tragic death in a plane crash.

Jarmusch is the sole writer for the film, which allows him to control every fine detail within his film, from the impeccable costume design (the film was co-produced by Saint Laurent), to minute call-backs in line readings, editing choices, and musical cues. I interpreted Father, Mother, Sister, Brother as a commentary on the remake and legacy sequel craze in Hollywood, as Jarmusch essentially retells the same story three times, changing it up with a new flavor each time, yet maintaining certain winks and call-backs to each interpretation. While another filmmaker would have taken the chance to criticize or condemn this recent trend, Jarmusch chooses to instead have fun with it, challenging himself instead of dictating to viewers.

This is one of Jarmusch’s greatest accolades as a filmmaker: a lack of judgement. Some directors who prefer an observational style, depict a “raw” aesthetic into an unforgivingly intimate situation, yet Jarmusch chooses to be akin to a drifting cloud, who simply guides viewers to share the presence of his characters. The result is a refreshing lack of coercion into taking onto a particular perspective.

The echoes of the stories within each other also work as a commentary on a character level. The repeating story is essentially one in which family members have become complete strangers to each other. There is a ritualistic miming of actions and awkward confusion, where you sense a desire to reach out, yet something forcing norm and expectation to grip tighter. There’s also a tragic element to the repetition, where the lessons of love and connection are unheard in the silos of each family, despite seeing it reflected in ubiquity.

Taking on a “collection” structure of three stories, is a risky undertaking, as not every narrative is going to connect with viewers. While Father, Mother, Sister, Brother’s first two stories were exceptionally strong, it’s third began to show creative fatigue, where you sensed Jarmusch growing weary of his concept. This is not helped by the third story having the weakest acting.

Father, Mother, Sister, Brother has an enviable cast, with many performers curiously playing against type. Driver is a retained and insecure man, Blanchett plays a shy and withdrawn nerd, and Balik is a cold and distant daughter. Each is in the film only briefly, yet I have their glances and stuttered line readings still swimming in my head. Yet Moore and Sabbat contrast unfavorably in these talents. They are blockier with their line readings and suffer from the undramatic Jarmusch style, where the struggle to transmit his naturalism. There was also a confusing element to their onscreen chemistry, which came off with a sexual tension that ruined much of the emotional beats that their story requested. I was half-expecting an incest storyline to somehow pop up, but instead was left scratching my head at the confusing dynamic the two actors had.

In the end, Father, Mother, Sister, Brother is a worthy hypnotically languid Jarmusch film, playing yet again with beats of the industry as well as observing his character’s being. The strength of his first two stories, coupled with their performances do enough to carry viewers through the weaker third act, making the film remain with you like a rich and comforting mug of tea.  

8.3/10