In The Father, his ambitious adaptation of his own stage play, Florian Zeller created one of the most heartbreaking films of the past few years, a strikingly beautiful ode to memory told through the eyes of someone who is on the verge of losing his entire perspective on reality. It was already a peculiar situation – Zeller was making his directorial debut with an English-language version of a play he wrote, but collaborated on the screenplay with esteemed writer Christopher Hampton, himself not a stranger to poignant explorations of the human condition, especially those of ordinary people who don’t normally yield much interest in other contexts. Yet, this method worked out swimmingly, since The Father is one of the year’s most exceptional films, an elegant but absolutely gut-wrenching psychological drama that takes the viewer into the mind of a man who is slowly losing it. It’s important to mention that this is one of the most difficult films one can hope to encounter – it isn’t explicit or excessive in any of the conventional ways some may need a warning for, but it should be noted that what Zeller did here was deconstruct the very fabric of some sacrosanct concepts relating to individuality and the function of family, and turned it into a harrowing, heartbreaking glimpse into the trials and tribulations of someone whose memories are fading, leaving him with a sense of inescapable confusion, and an inability to navigate a world he understood so well in the past. Featuring career-best work from arguably the most celebrated living thespian, and told with an inventiveness that proves that stage-to-screen adaptations can actually aspire to be compelling cinema in ways other than the acting, The Father is an absolute triumph, a daring and provocative drama that is fearless enough to tell this story without cutting any corners, and giving us the chance to experience the fear and disillusionment that many go through, but rarely are given the platform to have their stories told in such a dignified, complex manner.

Over his career, Anthony Hopkins has defined what it means to be an actor, using both his distinctive appearance and ability to play any role through a chameleonic set of talents, to take on a wide range of characters, transforming himself into cannibalistic serial killers to the President of the United States, and absolutely everything else in between. His performance as a butler thinking back on his own past in The Remains of the Day remains the gold-standard for male performance, along with a select few other actors who have managed to climb insurmountable heights to defining their artform. However, Hopkins has proven himself to not be someone who rests on his laurels, since The Father sees him superseding his own celebrated reputation by delivering what is possibly his finest role in decades, and perhaps of his entire working career, which stretches back over half a century. This is a role that has been played by several actors across many different languages, so it was logical that the major screen adaptation would be alluring to a wide range of actors, all of which would likely be clamouring to interpret Zeller’s impeccable and heart-wrenching ode to individuality. It makes sense that Hopkins received the role, since everything about the character of Anthony (so named for the actor, giving it a sense of intimacy) fits in with what he is known to be capable of, insofar as he is accomplished enough to flawlessly navigate the dramatic depths of the role, but not neglecting the slight comedic edge that takes over when he is at his most lucid, making this an extraordinarily multilayered performance that makes exceptional use of the gifts that define its enigmatic star. It doesn’t always happen that an actor as celebrated as Hopkins gives a performance so strong at this stage, it feels like a revelation, the discovery of a new set of talents – and it seems almost surreal that we’d come to gain an entirely new appreciation for the actor so late into his career. If there was ever a time to layer more adoration on Hopkins, The Father is the perfect opportunity to catch up, since he’s proving that he’s still as vivid and interesting a performer as ever.

However, layering this praise on Hopkins isn’t to neglect the rest of the cast, mainly the role played by Olivia Colman. Much like Hopkins, she has received an endless stream of acclaim since her first appearances on British television two decades ago, only growing in esteem as time has gone on, and audiences have begun to acknowledge Colman as a ferocious talent who has the same ability to play any role as her on-screen father in this film. Playing the role of Anne, she has the unenviable task of standing toe-to-toe with an absolute titan of the industry – and not only does she manage to successfully go up against him, she matches him on nearly every level. Despite the title, The Father is a two-hander, and just like Hopkins, Colman is required to run the full gamut of emotions, but through the perspective of being an observer and slight agent provocateur, interfering in ways that would benefit her father and improve his quality of life, which she sees is steadily declining the more he succumbs to his disease. It’s such a poignant performance from an actress who functions as the heart of the film – to call Colman better than Hopkins is somewhat hyperbolic (because he managed to capture such an elusive quality that very few actors are capable of reaching), but she does help propel this film forward on both her individual performance, and the incredible chemistry she develops with her co-star, their work merging together into the creation of an absolutely staggering portrayal of a father-daughter relationship that is quite simply beyond heartbreaking. Kudos to Olivia Williams and Imogen Poots, the undersung heroes of The Father who are doing impeccable work too, especially across from Hopkins, standing their ground and delivering solid performances that all contribute to the generally disconcerting mosaic that defines this film.

Many have referred to The Father as bearing the traits of a psychological thriller, and perhaps even a horror – and the reasoning for that is not nearly as absurd as it sounds. While it is a relatively straightforward drama, it manages to become increasingly terrifying as it goes on, with the sense of despair that comes from the main character’s descent into memory loss being truly unsettling, and enough to scare even the most acclimated viewer. Zeller’s work is fascinating – his tendency to use each scene as an opportunity to further complicate the puzzle of Anthony’s disease is admirable, since it shows that such stories do not need to be formulaic at all, but can also be as innovative and experimental as the most complex works of fiction. The stage origins of The Father are nowhere to be found outside of the fact that it doesn’t venture out of the main character’s home (except for two brief sojourns into other locations, which are intentionally designed to mirror his apartment), and Zeller ensures that the editing and production design of the film are as important as the writing and the performances, becoming pivotal in telling this story and setting a particular atmosphere that feels genuinely quite disturbing. Zeller and Hampton are creating a world for the character that is truly disconcerting, and through filtering the experience of losing one’s memory through the eyes of someone who is experiencing it (rather than through the perspective of those who are watching their tragic mental decline, which is more common with these kinds of stories), only affords the film the further opportunity to get beneath his skin and understand the changes one’s mind has to adapt to when the world around them begins to look unrecognizable.

Those expecting a stuffy, rigid British drama are going to be pleasantly surprised with The Father, which is about as far as one can get from the kind of sober, formal chamber pieces that one predicts this will be. Taking the form of a simple father-daughter story, the film gradually descends into a deeply unsettling look into the main character’s mind as he adjusts to a world that is changing faster than he can possibly adapt to – but it’s all within his own perspective, and the shifting tone of the film, and the intentional manipulation of reality, makes for an engrossing, and often quite frightening, experience. We accompany Anthony on this metaphysical journey, trying to uncover the truth – and we never quite know if what we’re seeing in a particular scene is real, or if it is one of his delusions. The withholding of the truth could have been frustrating had the film not used it so well – we’re not compelled to feel sympathy for Anthony as onlookers, but rather placed in his position, following him on this haunting path into an uncertain future, and one where the past is steadily evaporating faster than he can capture it. All he has left are brief fragments of his memories, which are slowly eroding and causing him to lose all sense of reality, and the realization that he is not going to regain it is the most heartbreaking moment of them all, since the realization that we can lose the most cherished of artefacts – the moments imprinted in our memories – is something that should terrify all of us. His handling of the material is naturally impeccable (since this story is the product of Zeller’s own impressive skills), so it shouldn’t be a surprise that the transition to screen was so successful – but even with his own first-hand knowledge of the material, the director’s work is so complex and layered with meaning, and executed with such precision, it marks what is hopefully going to be as fruitful a career behind the camera as it was writing for the stage.

The Father is an astonishing film, in no uncertain terms. An immersive experience that consumes the viewer and thrusts them into a version of the world that is both enlightening and absolutely heartbreaking, the film is a delicate exploration of the components of what make us human. It is led by Anthony Hopkins, who is giving inarguably his best performance in nearly thirty years, playing the role of a man who is trying desperately to hold onto reality, but finding his grasp loosening as his mind becomes weaker, while his daughter watches her father slip away into his own illness, knowing that regardless of how much she cares for him, he is bound to disappear sooner or later, receding into a state where he recognizes nothing around him. It’s a harrowing portrayal of dementia, albeit one that is never once heavy-handed or overwrought – even at its most emotional, the film stands as an artistically-resonant piece, with the director shifting the weight between a shattering story of losing one’s identity and an intense emotional exploration of the toll it can take on one’s psychological state, not only of the person suffering from the condition, but also those around them. Zeller navigates this challenging story with poise and dignity, and eventually condenses everything into this soul-story metaphysical odyssey that carries an enormous amount of weight when it comes to exploring the inner-machinations of the human mind, as well as noting the importance of cherishing every moment, since we never know how long they will last, especially as even the most powerful memories tend to be fleeting. All of this is packaged into this heartbreaking story that manages to perfectly balance its tonal shifts and experimental structure to be a beautifully poignant, and often masterfully constructed, story of what importance of holding onto every moment and making it count, a message that will undoubtedly resonate with every viewer as they submerge themselves in this painful but meaningful glimpse into some of life’s most intimidating challenges.