A winner of the Special Jury Prize at Cannes, Mommy is filled with daring choices, from the 1:1 screen ratio, the prominent use of familiar pop songs, and the introduction of a world exactly like our own, only with one small legal change. That last one might not seem very daring, but when you realize how subtly it changes the world around these particular characters, the fact that the legal change is only explained in the beginning and never mentioned again is extraordinary. In fact, it's remarkable how much of the film revolves around things unsaid when you take into account the verbosity of two of its leads. The mother-son pair at the center of Mommy are rough, unrefined people, although the son proves to be the more volatile of the two. Their neighbor, for reasons only vaguely stated but emotionally understood, becomes enmeshed in their family, and the two women struggle together to correct the path of the troubled son. The film doesn't demonize any of the characters, no matter how many wrong turns they make, and lovingly shows the way that families can be made and broken. This was the only film I've seen all year to achieve what Roger Ebert called elevation, to the tune of Oasis's growling Wonderwall. Unfortunately, this film just misses all-time greatness with an ending that seems unsure of when to stop.
