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“It’s hard to raise a child on your own.”

Compassionately rich in its characters and their narratives, The Second Mother, the latest from Brazilian writer/director Anna Muylaert, is a quietly involving film, though one found from an intentional distance. A character piece centered on Val (Regina Case), a secluded São Paulo lived-in housekeeper who shakes up her life and, in the process, those she works with — including house-owners Barbara (Karine Teles), Carlos (Lourenco Mutarelli) and Fabinho (Michel Joelsas), their teenage son— when reunited with her estranged daughter Jessica (Camila Mardila), Muylaert’s movie is a deliberate but exceptionally inquisitive piece. It lets the characters speak for themselves, but — in doing so — never has the class commentary or social politics overcome the narrative’s intentions. Muylaert’s patient but entirely engrossing drama is the kind of masterfully delicate, and maturely developed, feature that’s so rarely sent to the cinemas today, let alone done well. It’s hardly surprising to see Brazil choose it to be their contender for Best Foreign Film in the next Academy race.

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Though the themes she touches upon with her latest screenplay are rather traditional, particularly in how they develop in the third act, Muylaert excels mightily thanks to her wonderfully concentrated cast. Case, in particular, is simply remarkable, letting Val’s emotions spill out genuinely and gently throughout her struggles. Every fear she feels whenever Jessica steps over the family’s toes by swimming in their in-ground pool or eating Fabinho’s ice cream, every racing thought inside her head as she tries to respect her daughter while accepting her position in their house, every frustration she feels whenever she can’t get Jessica to understand the restraints of her profession and its lifestyle is not only seen in her expressive face but lived in throughout every second she’s on-screen. Her character’s bleeding sincerity, matched with her way of living all these years, is paced out terrifically by Muylaert’s sternly, carefully demonstrated direction. Nearly every scene is shot from three-or-four steps back, letting the tension or the tenuous emotions in the room escalate with fine consideration. It’s, at times, as captivating as it is uncomfortably, and unusually, intimate.

What Muylaert means to say about social rules and the nature of refined vs. confined living is made fairly straightforward, almost to the point where she could afford to introduce some different ideas for just a little variety. But in creating such a tight screenplay, The Second Mother lets the focus be primarily compelled by the characters at the forefront, and they all do an exceptional job as an ensemble. It may be Case’s film, but Mardila fervent character could very well have taken it away from her at any moment— if given more opportunities to do so. Teles knows well how to keep her Barbara exceedingly uptight without losing the grounded humanity, and the weighted complexities behind Mutarelli’s more sullen character are never outmatched by the performer behind him. Each get their occasions to show through, but all of them work exceptionally off one another and their virtues.

Signifying on the importance of others, particularly family, in one’s life, again, isn’t necessarily newfound territory, and the film is guilty of jumping through some customary plot progressions. What makes Muylaert’s film so special isn’t focused on the familiarity of the story, though. Rather, it’s how it builds upon it to make something more human and fragile by design. It’s a touchingly specific film, one that knows exactly where it wants to take itself and rings out every ounce of humanity it can gracefully in the process. Astoundingly resourceful in how it can make the most out of the little moments in these lives, The Second Mother is one of those remarkably unremarkable films. It touches on something very ancestral and common, and the hearty emotions come naturally in the process. It can resonate and touch audiences of multiple ages and generations, and it knows it but doesn’t flaunt it. As Val earns her sense of self, so too does the movie. It’s the kind of film which earns its firmly thumping heart, and is almost surely set to take itself through the awards season with a fine swoop.

7/10

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Will Ashton is a staff writer for Cut Print Film. He also writes for The Playlist, We Got This Covered and MovieBoozer. He co-hosts the podcast Cinemaholics. One day, he'll become Jack Burton. You wait and see.

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