We need to talk about Bill Forsyth more, at least in terms of giving him the attention that he has been deserving of for the last four decades. The creative mind between some of the most lovable comedies of the 1980s, the director made a profound impact without many even knowing his name. This is the joy of looking deep into the archives of previous decades, whereby you are able to glean new and exciting insights from studying the work of artists who aren’t particularly well-known from a populist point of view, but still carry a lot of merit in their own right. After a series of semi-autobiographical films set either in Great Britain or the director’s native Scotland (amongst them the iconic Local Hero, the film for which Forsyth is mostly known), the director was tasked with his most ambitious production yet, an adaptation of Housekeeping, a wildly cherished novel by Marilynne Robinson (which is in turn a thinly-veiled memoir for her own upbringing), which tells the story of a pair of sisters living in Idaho in what appears to be the 1950s, being raised by a string of relatives, most notably their eccentric aunt who lives a life of bohemian freedom, separated from the world outside their overgrown garden. Housekeeping is an exceptional film – a quiet and intricately-woven drama with touches of very gentle comedy, Forsyth curates a series of intimate moments in the lives of these characters, telling of two teenagers growing and adapting to new challenges that they encounter along their journey of maturing into a world that is both intimidating and exhilarating to their young eyes.

Housekeeping is one of the most engaging and insightful explorations of family from its era, which can easily be attributed to both the achingly beautiful text written by Robinson, and the brilliant work done by Forsyth in bringing this story to the screen. Perhaps the idea of a proudly Scottish filmmaker directing an adaptation of a text that is quintessentially American in its sensibilities seems like a strange choice, but as we saw in the director’s previous and subsequent works, it’s not so much the setting as it is the content that drives these stories forward. As cliched as it may be, Forsyth makes films that are defined by the concept of the journey being more important than the destination – and serving as the opposite of Local Hero, insofar as that film was about an outsider venturing into new territory, Housekeeping is focused on two young women who remain stagnant in one place while other weave their way in and out of their quaint Midwestern home. It is the perfect opportunity for the director to assert his authorial vision on an already striking text that guides him, the two working in perfect symbiosis as Forsyth carefully pulls apart the layers of Robinson’s novel, revealing the tender humour and gentle truths that underpin every word. It creates an environment in which the story can develop its characters, the structure allowing the viewer unfettered access into the lives of these people, who encounter various obstacles from which they have no choice but to attempt to overcome. It feels as if the director is speaking to an entire generation of people, those who came of age in the years following the earth-shattering changes wrought by the Second World War – but his ability to make this story accessible to everyone is part of the mastery of his craft he frequently and unabashedly demonstrated every time he stepped behind a camera.

The two most substantial roles in Housekeeping are occupied by Sara Walker and Andrea Burchill, two newcomers that may not be familiar to most audiences (and who didn’t do much acting after this film, with the exception of a few small roles on television in later years). Lucille and Ruthie are two exceptionally interesting characters, the latter in particular serving as the audience surrogate, the person who narrates the events and helps give direction to the surrounding film. Housekeeping is a coming-of-age drama, so it only stands to reason the two characters undergoing the process of maturing are going to be captivating enough to hold our attention. However, as is often the case with such stories, the best performance comes from elsewhere – both Walker and Burchill are excellent, but it’s Christine Lahti who commands the screen and steals every scene she is in. Perhaps it was unintentional, but the character of Aunt Sylvie envelopes the film, becoming the person with whom the audience is most enamoured. A quirky, eccentric woman, albeit one that isn’t ever just a bundle of tics or archetypal neuroses, she’s a fascinating individual and someone who the viewer easily identifies as the most interesting character. Lahti is an absolute revelation in the role – she had been doing decent work for years prior to this film, but an argument could be made that this is her finest performance, a role that she grasps with all her might, surrendering to the most intricate details of the character. The film becomes unequivocally Lahti’s, each scene involving the character propelling the story forward, so much that her intentional absences from the narrative feel enormously empty and lifeless, since she breathed so much energy into every frame of the film. This is the kind of performance that many actors aspire to give – a simple but impactful portrayal of someone who is not entirely out of the ordinary, but is still defined by our inability to compare her to anyone else we have ever encountered before, the sign of a truly great actor with immense artistic integrity.

There’s a certain sweetness embedded in these characters that carries over to the entire film, informing much of what makes Housekeeping such a moving metaphysical odyssey. There are few filmmakers that could be trusted with bringing out both the gentle comedy and hard-hitting drama that was paramount to Housekeeping than Forsyth, whose perpetually tender but still potent approach to storytelling has set him apart from his contemporaries. Despite the premise, the film is quite complex, having a kind of slow-burning intensity that doesn’t manifest all at once, but gradually emerges over the course of the entire film, which is much more nuanced than just a simple family drama. The sheer amount of imagery present in this film is staggering – the recurring themes of mountains and lakes create a pastoral image of idyllic America (as well as possibly hinting at the peaks and valleys that these characters experience), which contrasts sharply with the conflicting experiences of the main characters, with the two young protagonists yearning for a life defined by modernity and progress, while their aunt is more invested in a life filled with simplicity. The film is built on both comically exposing the differences that exist between the generations, Forsyth infusing these scenes with a kind of earnest humour, and the gradual discovery that these characters have common ground, being similar in ways that their petty differences could never squander. It’s a truly beautiful piece of storytelling that goes above and beyond the simplest confines of the family-based dramas on which it is clearly based. It’s clear that this aspect of the film comes from both Robinson’s beautifully detailed novel, and Forsyth’s masterful control of tone and atmosphere, leading to a wonderfully complex character-based odyssey that keeps everything simple, while still touching on deeper issues.

Housekeeping is afilm that touches on many deep themes – the volatility of life (it features many unforgettable images, including one truly devastating moment that lingers on through the entire film), the passage of time and the value of forming strong connections with one’s family and friends These are all layered together to form a truly mesmerizing drama about both celebrating the joyful moments in life, and overcoming the challenges that seek to derail us from whatever destination we feel is preordained for us. Forsyth is such a gifted filmmaker, and his work has always reflected both an undying admiration for the most simple aspects of existence, and the artistic integrity to present it in intricate, beautifully poetic ways. This adaptation proves that even when directing outside of a setting in which he is familiar and comfortable, he could craft an unforgettable film that becomes a beautiful experience, playing to both our mind and souls, enriching our understanding of the human condition while still progressing a particular narrative that is tied together with a fierce conviction that we may not expect based on a cursory glance. Housekeeping is a remarkable piece of filmmaking – how it manages to make so much profound statements while never becoming excessive, remaining well within the boundaries of the quiet, meditative drama that comments on the world through the lens of the most ordinary characters, who are in turn repurposed as unforgettable heroines based solely on their conviction and commitment to being themselves, before even being entirely sure who they are. This may just be the best way to define Housekeeping – it’s a film built on the challenges encountered on a journey with an unknown destination, defined by characters who stay true to themselves without knowing exactly what their future holds, and a buoyant glimpse into Midwestern culture that is both insightful to this particular geographical and temporal milieu, and universal in how it deconstructs the very essence of the human condition into small moments of revelatory brilliance.