HARD TRUTHS - Mark Reviews Movies

Hard Truths, Bleecker Street

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Review by Mark Dujsik | December 5, 2024

The two sisters grew up together under the same roof and now live in basically the same London neighborhood, with similar economic means and families of their own. They couldn't be as different, though, in every other respect, and writer/director Mike Leigh's Hard Truths becomes the heartbreaking story of one sibling who just wants to love the other, who doesn't seem to know how to love.

How did this happen? Leigh doesn't want to psychoanalyze the personality of Pansy (Marianne Jean-Baptiste), the sister who spends her life afraid or angry or both, or dig into the possibilities of why she is so different than Chantelle (Michele Austin), whose natural state seems to be smiling or laughing—except when she's talking to or with her older sibling.

Things like this happen to people and within families. Even if either sister knew the exact reason why or the precise moment in time when this divide appeared between them, it wouldn't matter. The past is the past, to "haunt" Pansy, as she puts it when the two finally talk a little about their mother, and the present is the present, for Chantelle to try and try and try to convince her sister that she deserves to be loved and that opening herself up to love might finally make her happy.

Those who know Leigh's films and his filmmaking process won't be surprised by the course of this story, which amounts to a series of vignettes featuring the sisters and their families as they live their lives in the days leading up to Mother's Day. We watch as Pansy stays at home mostly, spending her time sleeping in bed or cleaning everything that she has already cleaned, and occasionally heads out into the world, where everything is a source of irritation, frustration, or rage for her. We also observe as Chantelle works at a hair salon, talking to every one of her customers as if she's her best friend, and spends time with her adult daughters, who have jobs but still live at home—seemingly because the two young women genuinely enjoy their mother's company.

The important thing to know about Leigh's style—which is worth mentioning whenever a new film from him appears, since it takes years for him to make a new one—is the participation of the actors in developing the characters and the story beats. It's only worth noting because the work of improvisation and rehearsal so often shows itself in the intricacies of how the characters in Leigh's films reveal themselves. It's in little ways, such as how Pansy awakens in a fright even when she's alone in the house, and the more significant ones, such as in the scenes between the two sisters—as Chantelle's compassion and the memories of the past finally cause a shift, if only temporarily, within Pansy.

Every detail matters in Leigh film, and in this one, the details are especially potent, revealing, and filled with juxtapositions that make us mourn for Pansy—the life she never had, because she never allowed herself to have it—and what amounts to the absence of sister in Chantelle's life. Neither of the siblings is to blame for any of this, and Leigh is such a compassionate storyteller that he ensures we recognize no one else within his film is to blame, either. Life has already happened for these characters, and the only question that matters is what life they have now and will have in the future.

Pansy certainly stands out in and from the rest of the narrative, and that's not only because of the nuance of Jean-Baptiste's devastating performance. She clearly has depression, even if she doesn't know it or is willing to admit it and no one else knows or is willing to admit it, either. It means that the woman does spend a lot of time inactive, simply asleep or lying in bed, unable to sleep. There's much more going on with Pansy, too, from a fear of the outside world, especially dirt and germs and anything that could carry those things, to episodes of often irrational anger. She lashes out at anyone or anything that annoys her, and when she's outside the relative comfort and safety of her home, that could be anyone or anything.

Her condition has clearly affected her husband Curtley (David Webber), who's an independent contractor in home repair and renovation, and 22-year-old son Moses (Tuwaine Barrett), who still lives with his parents. Whenever Pansy is around, both men are basically silent and visibly anxious, as if trying not to make a sound or do anything that could irritate her.

At work, Curtley is a different man, chatting with his employee Virgil (Jonathan Livingstone). As some proof that every detail is important here, there's Pansy's observation that Virgil is incapable of putting together a sentence. He seems more than adept at that with Curtley, offering lots of history and trivia, so whatever problem Pansy perceives in the man isn't with him. Poor Moses is stuck, though, and the young man basically lives in a protective shell of his own making.

Meanwhile, Chantelle is simply happy with her life—at a job she likes, with daughters Kayla (Ari Nelson) and Aliesha (Sophia Brown) spending time off together laughing at this and that, without much about which to worry. Pansy is the exception, of course, because Chantelle does try to spend time with her sister, now attempting to have the sisters visit their mother's grave on Mother's Day, but Pansy says Chantelle wants nothing to do her. It's far from the reality, but it's how Pansy feels and thinks, which might as well be reality for her.

There are no major revelations here, either to do with the past—save for a heart-to-heart conversation about how the two women had completely different relationships with their mother—or that could change the current state of these characters' attitudes, lives, or relationships. Hard Truths is too wise, realistic, and understanding of these characters, as well as human nature in general, for such easy sentiments.

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