There is an unspeakable sadness that comes with watching our parents grow old – the people who raised us venture towards the end of their lives, and even if they may not be terminally ill or entirely near the end, it can be difficult to see their minds and bodies begin to wilt. Lance Hammer is fascinated by the idea of finding both the pain and beauty in witnessing the march of time through the eyes of the younger generation, which serves as the foundation for Queen at Sea, which marks his return to cinema after nearly two decades. Much like Ballast, his ambitious debut, this film is a quiet and captivating character-driven drama that attempts to meander through the deepest recesses of the human condition, in the hopes of finding some truth beneath the discomfort and despair that frames the story. The film follows Amanda, a university professor and dedicated single mother who is raising her daughter in Newcastle, while periodically venturing over to London to check on her mother Leslie, who is living with advanced dementia, under the care of her second husband, the volatile but gentle Martin, who does his best to be her caregiver. Unfortunately, Amanda arrives right as the couple are in a very private moment, and her first instinct is to report Martin, as she has been told that her mother does not have the mental capacity to give informed consent. What she initially hopes will just be an opportunity for Martin to realise the severity of the situation eventually turns into a harrowing chapter for all of them, especially when the authorities make it clear that they are taking this very seriously, leading everyone to have their lives irretrievably altered by a single poor decision. A film that is as harrowing as it is quietly beautiful, Queen at Sea is an examination of the world through the eyes of a woman who genuinely believes what she is doing is right, only to discover that her actions, as well-intentioned as they may be, have extraordinary consequences, and the delicate balance that keeps society moving can sometimes be most disrupted by the people who earnestly believe that what they are doing is right. A complex but striking film that proves to be a triumphant return to cinema for one of its most enigmatic but brilliant artists, Queen at Sea is quite an impressive work, and a film that dares to explore subjects many would find too intimidating to even consider, let alone examine in such vivid detail.

One of Hammer’s most admirable qualities, and indeed the reason he is such a fascinating filmmaker, is his refusal to provide easy solutions to difficult questions, even when we are led to believe that they are very much possible. The subject of ageing is not new to cinema – for about as long as we have been telling stories, there have been narratives built around the trials and tribulations of those who live long enough to see their bodies and minds gradually eroding. It’s a natural process, and one that can either be beautiful or devastating, depending on the perspective. Queen at Sea is one of the rare instances of a film that seems willing to explore both sides, looking at the process of growing older as both a blessing and a curse. Hammer employs multiple different perspectives, looking at it through the eyes of three different generations: Leslie is a woman desperately holding onto whatever shred of lucidity still lingers in her mind, with her dutiful husband being willing to stay by her side through it all, while also refusing to see her as anything less than the young woman he married. Amanda is the overly cautious daughter who believes that she needs to care for everyone, even if it is to their detriment, being the classic example of someone who does what she thinks is best without thinking those around her have an ounce of agency. Finally, Sara is the granddaughter who looks on her grandparents’ relationship with complete detachment, viewing Leslie’s decline as more of an inconvenience, the reason she is occasionally late for school or not able to spend every night in her own bed. It’s a complex exploration of familial dynamics, and the film explores each one of them vividly, especially in relation to the growing tension between Amanda and Martin as they grapple for dominance, each one of them thinking they know better than the other when it comes to Leslie’s wellbeing. This allows Hammer to examine issues surrounding familial responsibilities, asking who truly should be the authority on the life of someone vulnerable: the partner with whom they have spent a large portion of their life, or their child, who has no reason to want anything but the best for their parent. It’s a complex question, and one that doesn’t entirely get answered in the way we would expect, but nevertheless evokes something quite carnal in the viewer, being far more nuanced than we would expect at first.

A film like Queen at Sea has to rely on a very strong ensemble, since without their solid work, it would be almost entirely redundant, considering the extent to which this story is built from the character-based work being done by the actors. The focus at first is Amanda, as played by Juliette Binoche, who once again delivers a spellbinding performance. Hardly anyone of her generation has been so wholeheartedly committed to pushing the boundaries of her craft as much as Binoche, who has simply refused to allow herself to be pigeonholed into the same kinds of roles. Instead, she actively pursues more complex roles that challenge her in ways that allow her to constantly surprise us. This is relatively simple work on the surface, but her manner of developing Amanda into someone with so many layers is truly impressive. She is the catalyst for a string of truly unfortunate events, but rather than being a one-dimensional character, one that lacks nuance and just exists to set off a chain of difficult situations, Binoche commands the film as its moral and psychological bellwether, a bundle of complexities that the film manages to explore beautifully. However, the heart of Queen at Sea is undeniably Anna Calder-Marshall and Tom Courtenay, two veterans of the industry whom Hammer enlists to bring their incredible skills to the screen as the protagonist’s fragile mother and stern stepfather. Much like Amanda, Hammer chooses to portray these two characters as more than just thinly-written archetypes, developing them into complex, nuanced individuals who consist of many unique qualities that set them apart from characters that we usually tend to see in these films. There is a compassion the actors bring that makes them so incredibly moving, a quiet sincerity that feels genuine and not at all forced. They come across as entirely convincing, making us believe that these are two people who have devoted their lives to one another, with the actors finding common ground in how they choose to convey the deepest nuances that define these characters. It’s a beautifully empathetic work, and each of these actors commits entirely to playing challenging parts, never being too intimidated by the emotional inventory that drives this film, and being more than willing to embrace the opportunity to tell quite an important story.

The presence of Caldwell-Martin and Courtenay as the anchors of this film is not only an opportunity for the director to work with two splendid actors, but also a sign that he is very much aware of film history, since the decision to cast a pair of performers who emerged at a very important moment in British cinema is reflected in the style and structure of the film. Queen at Sea resembles the kitchen-sink realism dramas that defined the medium for decades towards the middle of the century, with directors like Ken Loach, Mike Leigh and Alan Clarke being enormous influences on the construction of this film. As with many films formed under this artistic manifesto, it is a matter of finding the right balance between authenticity and emotional resonance, since they may not be mutually exclusive, but they certainly can sometimes exist in opposition when not done properly. The core of this film is to examine a complex topic through the eyes of various characters, observing their reaction to an increasingly difficult situation without becoming too heavy-handed, focusing on genuine emotions wherever possible. This is what makes Hammer such an incredible filmmaker – he’s someone who understands the human condition right down to its smallest and most intricate minutiae, knowing the inner workings of the minds of these characters without needing to resort to the same hackneyed, overly dense approach that a lesser filmmaker who may be inclined to veer towards the melodramatic when it comes to navigating the core ideas that drive this film. It is ultimately a far more nuanced examination of not only dementia (which is already a tricky subject itself, and one that is treated with the appropriate sensitivity without being coddling – Hammer is not interested in exploring the woes that come with living with the condition so much as he is focused on presenting a stark and honest portrait of its many complexities), but also the struggles of families that watch their loved ones slip away into the clutches of this horrifying disease. The director finds ways to tell this story without being compelled to aim for the obvious points of discussion, which opens the film up to more unique perspectives, the kind that feel genuine and meaningful and actually tend to have something to say, rather than feeling exploitative or tacky. This is one of Hammer’s strengths as a storyteller, and the primary reason Queen at Sea feels like such a major work in both form and content, since its refusal to aim for the low-hanging fruit is beyond admirable.

At a glance, Queen at Sea may seem relatively conventional social realist drama, and it certainly is formed in a way that does play into some of the usual tropes, albeit through showing that these subjects can be explored without going in the usual direction that we tend to expect, which is to be a bundle of heavy-handed moments that are designed to tug on the heartstrings rather than say something meaningful. The results are spellbinding – the cast brings these complex characters to life with a sincerity and honesty that feels far more authentic, with the central quartet (as well as those who exist in the periphery, appearing for only a scene or two but leaving an indelible impression) anchoring the film and acting as the tethers onto which the director can attach some intimidating but incredibly beautiful moments that reveal the central intentions, many of which may be more complex than we expected. As a whole, Hammer is not examining anything particularly revolutionary or outlandish when it comes to this film – it is a relatively simple story of a family navigating their matriarch’s declining condition, shown through the perspectives of different people as they perceive some key moments in their own way, trying to maintain their composure in the face of situations that would make even the most iron-willed of people collapse. It’s a simple film, but one that proves the incredible power of a story that is told well, with nuance and precision, and which underlines the many reasons why Hammer is such an intriguing filmmaker, a director whose attention to detail and sincerity when it comes to understanding the inner workings of the human mind, as well as his observations on the outward manifestations of these complex emotions, makes him one of our most insightful filmmakers. It can be a challenging experience, and it is certainly not an easy film to watch – but once we get past the intense emotions and start to observe the underlying ideas, understanding what they represent, the film becomes a poignant, beautiful portrait of family, a deeply moving psychological drama that doesn’t intend to make the viewer feel comfortable, but instead engaging with the core themes, which all lead to one of the year’s most striking depictions of the human condition and the lengths to which we will got protect those we love, regardless of the consequences.