Every parent’s longing

One of my very first sermons was a 6,800-word Easter preach that tried to do everything.

Resurrection apologetic? Check. Whirlwind tour of redemptive history? Had to. Atonement and union with Christ? Can’t have one without the other. A few personal stories chucked in for good measure? Of course. Leaving out anything felt like a sin of omission. If everything didn’t happen, nothing would. As I gathered my copious notes from the pulpit after the service, I was approached by a retired naval commander known throughout the church for his ministry of encouragement. This Sunday, however, the encouragement was charged with admonishment. ‘Next time,’ he said, ‘say everything you just said – but with half the words.’

Less is more

When it comes to clear communication, less is almost always more. This is as true for films as it is for sermons. Like a bloated exposition, modern films frequently try to do far too much. They are overburdened with ideas and images, leaving audiences exhausted and even relieved by the time the credits roll. (Here’s looking at you, Marvel Cinematic Universe.) It is increasingly rare to find a film focused on a single objective, undistracted by anything other than the one thing it has set out to accomplish.

This is the beauty of Céline Sciamma’s Petite Maman. In 72 minutes, it takes a single thing that every parent and child longs for and, with brevity and quiet elegance, graces its audience with the fulfilment of that longing.

A petite marvel

Eight-year-old Nelly (Joséphine Sanz) has just lost her grandmother. Her mother (Nina Meurisse) is overwhelmed by grief and depression. As the family cleans out her mother’s childhood home, Nelly takes to exploring the surrounding forest. One day she meets a girl of the same age who happens to look quite like her (Gabrielle Sanz, sister to Josephine) building a hut in the wood.

Bathed in the forest’s autumn glow, the two begin working and playing together. Caught in an unexpected rainstorm one day, the girls make a dash for the new friend’s house. Upon arrival, it is instantly clear that this is Nelly’s mother’s childhood home, just 20-or-so years before. Nelly’s new friend is her mother, Marion. Hence, the film’s title Petite Maman, or Little Mummy in French.

If this sounds too fantastical and strange to you, fear not. There is nothing out of the ordinary or overtly sci-fi about this film. Nelly enters the wood on one side, sees her new friend, and the two simply come out on the other side in the past.

This uncomplicated plot device is just one example of Sciamma’s focused execution. In her hands, all doors that could open up to distracting questions about time become portals to Nelly’s understanding of her mother’s pain and grief. This, coupled with Sciamma’s trademark muted dialogue and precise composition, is one of the many mini marvels of the film.

Longings fulfilled

What is the longing at the heart of Petite Maman? There’s a sense in which I don’t want to tell you at the risk of spoiling your experience of such a lovely film. But it is a longing voiced in Scripture, especially on the final page of the Old Testament: a longing that the hearts of parents would be turned to their children, and the hearts of children to their parents (Mal. 4:6).

Living in the shadow of the Fall, the fulfilment of this longing often feels out of reach. But the coming of the Messiah offers hope for a new order of things. By engaging this longing and glimpsing its fulfilment, even by way of subtle fantasy, Petite Maman flickers with the light of something often impossible with man, but not impossible with God.

PETITE MAMAN
Writer / Director Céline Sciamma
2021 Cert. U Run time 1h 12m
Available on DVD, Blu-Ray or for streaming at MUBI.com.