Orphan

There’s nothing quite like being a preteen, stuck between childhood and coming of age, hung in emotional turbulence. It’s a universal feeling, a tender bruise many of us still carry – and László Nemes knows exactly where to press.

His third film follows Andor (Bojtorján Barábas), a frustrated, isolated boy navigating the aftermath of the 1956 Hungarian uprising. Like Son of Saul, Nemes’ Oscar-winning debut, Orphan traces a hazy memory of a father-son bond. Andor idolises his missing father and longs for his uncertain return. It’s a heartbreaking watch, although where the final scenes should be rife with emotion, they fall a bit flat. This film bites off a bit more emotional weight than it can chew. 

The film opens through Andor’s eyes. He’s taken from the orphanage as a young child in a disorienting blur, reunited with his mother, who’s essentially a stranger. Andor’s shallow breaths bleed into the sound, and Nemes puts us in the shoes of this small, bewildered human being, seeing the world as he does.

Nemes paints a film of ugly truths bathed in stunning cinematography

What follows is a testament to unbelonging. Andor isn’t necessarily an orphan – his mother is very much alive – but he’s kept at arm’s length, effectively orphaned, and set to find his footing alone. Scenes flit by in quick succession: a door closed, a back turned, and a mother fiercely guarding her past. Andor is constantly running to some other place, from his school to the grocery store where his mother works, to the bunker hiding his friend’s brother. He belongs in none of these places.

Nemes paints a film of ugly truths bathed in stunning cinematography. The grading is soft and feels nostalgic, a gentle visual treatment for a tragic story suppled with emotion. But no matter how beautiful the images are, they never linger quite long enough to completely stick the landing. Every scene appears like a brief touchdown before Andor inevitably stirs trouble and runs away again. Some of the film’s most painful moments would hit a little harder if we were allowed to sit in them for longer. 

Andor learns his real father is a grotesque, brutish man who overpowers his mother with ease. It’s equally disturbing and harrowing to watch the fragile seams of this family disintegrate entirely with his arrival. Perhaps the portrayal of Andor’s father is a bit too villainous at times, morphing him into a sort of caricature. Then again, it is a film told through a child’s eyes after all: a poignant, affecting tale of neglect and resilience.

In UK and Ireland cinemas Fri May 15.