Mothers raise the barin creepy 60s thriller

Anne Hathaway and Jessica Chastain play American housewives divided by an unthinkable tragedy in this stylish period thriller, writes Paul Whitington

Mothers’ Instinct

(15A, 94mins)

★★★

There’s a touch of the Douglas Sirks about Mothers’ Instinct, a glossy, goosebumpy thriller set in a plush 1960s American suburb. On the face of it, life is pretty sweet for best friends and neighbours Alice (Jessica Chastain) and Celine (Anne Hathaway).

They’re both happily married to high-earning husbands and their young sons Theo (Eamon Patrick O’Connell) and Max (Baylen D Bielitz) are inseparable friends. So much so, they’ve cut a little tunnel in the border hedge so they can come and go from each other’s houses.

But there are tensions amid all this apparent perfection. Alice wants to go back to work, but her husband Simon (Anders Danielsen Lie) is not sure she’s up to it: there are hints of mental instability or some sort of nervous condition.

Celine’s husband Damian (Josh Charles) works a lot and is not always as present in his child’s life as he should be. But overall, things aren’t too bad and over boozy dinner parties, the two couples celebrate their good fortune.

All of that changes though, courtesy of a horrific accident. Max is playing up on the first-floor balcony when he slips and falls to his death. Alice had seen him from her garden and called to him to be careful, but wasn’t quick enough through the hedge to save him.

At the funeral, Alice senses that Celine is frosty with her, and initially puts it down to her unimaginable grief. But then, when the coolness persists, she becomes convinced that Celine blames her. Is Alice imagining all this? Her husband certainly thinks so, and refers darkly to an earlier breakdown as evidence that her senses are not to be trusted.

Unbeknownst to Alice and Simon, Celine, out of loneliness perhaps, has encouraged Theo to come into their house to play with Max’s toys. One afternoon, when Alice is in the garden again, she looks up and to her horror sees Theo standing up on the balcony ledge at the exact same spot where Max fell.

She’s through the hedge like a shot this time and persuades him to get down. From her window, Celine watches, having proof now perhaps that her neighbour could have tried harder.

Can grief of this kind loosen sanity’s foothold? It’s not hard to imagine, and Alice is now convinced that Celine is intent on acting out some sort of baroque revenge. But the more Alice talks about this to her husband, the more unhinged she herself seems.

All of this psychological ‘sturm und drang’ takes place against a picture-perfect suburban backdrop straight out of Norman Rockwell. Both women, even in extremis, dress fashionably in bold colours that tend to denote their changing moods.

In ways, both of them feel on trial in terms of their motherhood: in an era when a working wife was an affront to male pride, parenting and homemaking were, for most women, the only shows in town. What if you had no special aptitude for either? How were you supposed to feel about yourself then?

These are some of the interesting questions raised by a film that never quite becomes the sum of its parts. Mothers’ Instinct is based on a French novel by Barbara Abel and a 2018 adaptation by Olivier Masset-Depasse: he was due to direct this American version, but was replaced by Benoît Delhomme.

He does a decent job overall, without ever really exploring the story’s cinematic possibilities, and the film’s pacing is oddly flat given its racy plot.

Chastain and Hathaway, though, are superb together, pushing and pulling our sympathies between these complex, thwarted women. In expressing her character’s grief, Hathaway wisely decides that feelings as big as these are not necessarily transmissible and instead, her Celine closes up, abandoning all sentiment with terrifying speed.

Meanwhile, Chastain plays Alice like one of Alfred Hitchcock’s unfortunate heroines, who cannot persuade anyone around them that bad things will very shortly happen.

Mothers’ Instinct is worth watching for their performances alone.

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‘In an era when a working wife was an affront to male pride, parenting and homemaking were the only shows in town’

Kung Fu Panda 4 (PG, 94mins) HHH

I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for Po, the dumpling-loving panda who became the unlikely saviour of his ancient Chinese village. Over a TV series, video games and three movies, he warmed the heart of many a child while fighting an array of grandiose villains. The best of them was Kung Fu Panda 3, which elevated the series’ painterly animation to new and glorious heights. In the fourth instalment, an older and wiser Po (Jack Black) has been divested of his buddies the Furious Five, and must stand alone against a powerful shape-shifting reptile.

Voiced by Viola Davis, Chameleon summons all of Po’s enemies from the afterlife so she can harness their powers against him, and the panda must seek the help of Zhen (Awkwafina), a corsac fox, to stop her. Chameleon’s home, Juniper City, is very nicely animated, and James Hong and Bryan Cranston make a winning double act as Po’s two fathers. Animation aside, Jack Black’s vocal energy has always been the secret weapon. He’s on form here again, but with fewer jokes in his arsenal than usual, and Kung Fu Panda 4, while enjoyable, doesn’t have the same exuberance of its predecessors.

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The Origin Of Evil (No Cert, 123mins) HHHH

Sebastien Marnier’s delightfully exotic Canadian-French thriller stars Laure Calamy as Stephane, a wily young woman who works in a sardine factory but has big plans. When she gets evicted from her flat, Stephane contacts her estranged father Serge Dumontet (Jacques Weber), a millionaire restaurateur who had an affair with her mother. He lives in a vast estate on the island of Porquerolles, and seems happy to see Stephane. He’s recovering from a stroke, and suggests his wife Louise (Dominique Blanc) and daughter George (Doria Tillier) are trying to take his business from him.

He invites Stephane to stay at the chateau, and infuriates her half-sister George by seeming to favour her. Stephane insists she’s not interested in money, but George is not convinced. The Origin Of Evil embraces its Hitchcockian undercurrents gleefully, and has a wonderfully bleak sense of humour to match its sometimes outrageous plot twists. Some currently fashionable split-screen effects are intended to keep you guessing till the end, and a subplot involving Stephane’s imprisoned girlfriend adds spice to this hugely enjoyable film.

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