We are family

The dysfunctional family, whether self-aware or quietly fracturing, has long been fodder for artistic expression, since all families have their own personal lore. The Toronto International Film Festival has its share of directors pointing their lenses at household indiscretions and abnormalities, offering their spin on an old standby.

In Lymelife, screenwriting brothers Derick and Steven Martini investigate the dwindling American dream circa late-1970s, as seen through the increasingly wise eyes of 15-year-old Scott (a compelling Rory Culkin) who is just beginning to realize that his parents are flawed people with their own interior monologues and personal issues. Derick Martini’s directorial debut evokes moments of truth and humour – the “first time” sex scene is pitch-perfect awkward – but an uneven tone ultimately hampers the message that the film is only able to hint at.

When Scott’s philandering, architect dad (Alec Baldwin, machismo personified) tries to do some damage control with his son after he’s been thrown out of the house by his wife, he speaks of trying to be a good man, father and husband and admits he’s not sure he’s succeeding in any of those roles. At a time when men were the breadwinners and signs of weakness were frowned upon, this admission resonates beyond the screen and proves that building the biggest house on the block and automatic smiles do little to mask suburban dismay and the truth about a marriage that hasn’t been working for a long time.

In a casting coup, real-life brothers Rory and Kieran Culkin play the same on-screen, allowing another layer of meaning to this story of a failing marriage and divided family, with both belonging to the infamously combative Culkin clan.

The emotionally complex relationship that exists between mothers and daughters is front and centre in Carl Bessai’s aptly-titled mock-doc, Mothers & Daughters, which provides choice moments of insight.

Micki (Babs Chula) and Rebecca (Camille Sullivan) represent the more-friends-than-family duo, with the twentysomething Rebecca still acting out as a petulant child, screaming in her mother’s face when she doesn’t get her way, barely concealing her desperate need for approval and her desire to follow in her mother’s footsteps, despite claims to the contrary.

A parallel storyline invites audiences into Cynthia’s (Tinsel Korey) home, a young woman who still has issues with being adopted, and Celine (Tantoo Cardinal), a kindly painter hired by Cynthia, who has lost her own daughter and turns out to be an unexpectedly maternal force in Cynthia’s life.

Popular opinion holds that no one should be closer than mother and daughter but given the intimacy of said relationship, and every woman’s fear of taking on her mother’s worst qualities while still wanting to emulate her best, this so-called "special bond" often ends up being the most volatile relationship a person can have.

Bessai also presents his women without consistent male figures in their lives, highlighting the extra burden of a mother playing both roles in this investigation of what it means to be a good mother or daughter.

Taking a comedic approach to the kooky family dramedy is first-time writer/director Matt Aselton, who yields a hilariously over the top performance by John Goodman, and solid work from the ever-dependable Paul Dano (Little Miss Sunshine, There Will Be Blood) and Zooey Deschanel (Almost Famous, Elf).

Quiet mattress salesman Brian Weathersby (Dano) is the youngest in his family by at least a decade – his dad was 52 when he was born – and his older brothers have little in common with their markedly less successful sibling.

Astutely, Aselton pulls an about-face in Gigantic, offering a portrait of a surprisingly supportive family made up of opposing characters. Somehow, this family seems to have peace with its peculiar composition and, refreshingly, the quirks aren’t played out for their own sake.

A particularly affecting scene late in the film shows the Weathersby matriarch, played by Jane Alexander, trying to calm Brian’s erstwhile ladyfriend Harriet (Deschanel) with a few revelatory words: "Nothing’s normal. Nothing’s beyond repair."

It may seem overly simplistic but sometimes the realization that no one’s family is all that normal can serve as a reassuring statement, representing the first step towards healing and ultimate happiness.