THE ORIGIN OF EVIL - Mark Reviews Movies

The Origin of Evil, IFC Films

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Review by Mark Dujsik | September 21, 2023

The Origin of Evil begins as a kind of emotional wish fulfillment, as a woman discovers and reconnects with the family she never had, and quickly becomes skeptical of that concept. It's not only because our protagonist starts looking for her family, who—quite conveniently for her, if one accepts that her motives are pure—are inordinately wealthy, as soon as her financial situation becomes dire. It's also because the estranged family is filled with terrible people, and the depths of just how self-absorbed, petty, prejudiced, and hateful they are here become increasingly apparent as the film unfolds.

That's the story writer/director Sébastien Marnier starts telling with this film. A woman named Stéphane (Laure Calamy) finds herself caught up in the bickering, arguing, and more sinister conflict happening between the father she has never known and the family with whom he has arrived at a mutual, venomous kind of resentment.

To Serge Dumontet (Jacques Weber), a rich man who earned his fortune in the hospitality industry, Stéphane becomes an oasis of something genuine, as opposed to the rest of his family members, whom he's convinced are trying to undermine his power and control over his business. From what we can see Stéphane is genuine, simply looking for her father, because her mother has died, as well as the matter of the questions of who he is and what their relationship could be together have been lingering for as long as she can remember.

Appearances can be deceiving, of course, and the pointed humor and escalating tension of this tale come from the gradual realization of just how much deceit is happening right in front of us. Marnier's screenplay (written in collaboration with Fanny Burdino) might seem to be telling one story, only for it to reveal the thorniest of implications of that situation, from the perspective of one character, only for a different character's tale to emerge from that.

It's a tricky and twisting narrative, but Marnier doesn't skimp on the characters, especially in uncovering just how much they're hiding and what that truly reveals about them, in the process. There's Stéphane, for example, who works at a fish-packing plant, lives with a housemate, and is under constant threat of losing her job, her living situation, or both. Upon learning that her housemate's daughter is returning to live there, Stéphane has to figure out some kind of solution to the problem that she'll have to move out soon.

That means a call to Serge, whom she knows is her father but has never met. He invites her to visit his home in a port town, and after some pleasant conversation and catch-up and smiles, he brings Stéphane to his villa, where all the pleasantries disappear for some passive-aggressive suspicion. Serge's wife Louise (Dominique Blanc) knows her husband has strayed over the years, but she seems to accept Stéphane as warmly as could be possible under the circumstances—although Louise's polite invitation for Stéphane to sit next to her is undone when Louise almost immediately moves to a different sofa.

Serge's other daughter George (Doria Tillier) doesn't hide her distrust, because what reason other than money could Stéphane have for showing up out of nowhere, just as Serge's health and the question of who will take over his business have become an issue. Stéphane tries to make it clear that money isn't a motive, even if that means lying about owning the fish plant and trying to hide that she's currently in a relationship with a woman (played by Suzanne Clément) who's in prison. She just wants to fit in as much as she can, after all.

The specifics of what's actually happening here shouldn't be disclosed, but this setup, perhaps, is enough to display that everyone, including Stéphane, is lying or hiding something to one degree or another. Even Agnès (Véronique Ruggia Saura), the estate's seemingly loyal and trustworthy servant/driver/chef/assistant, is stealing from Louise, who's either addicted to shopping or spends a lot on useless things whenever she wants to show that she's mad at Serge. By the way, Agnès is skeptical of Stéphane, too, so when the illegitimate daughter drops the information about the stealing to Serge, is it out of real concern for Louise's possessions, or does she just want to put a little more doubt on whatever Agnès might say about her?

This review, obviously, is dancing around some vital pieces of information. That's probably appropriate, since Marnier himself has concocted a clever but grounded game of lies, manipulation, conspiracy, broken bonds, disturbing private moments, legal maneuvering, and general awfulness involving just about every character here. Learning the extent of who's lying about what and why they're doing so is a bit of a thrill, especially because the screenplay fleshes out these characters so well that we might be sympathetic toward most of them—even though it's only a matter of time before the film shows us that such feelings are part of the game being played here.

The performances keep it based in uncomfortable reality, too. Each of the actors playing the family gets at the scheming but, in the case of mother and daughter, hurt ways of these characters (Meanwhile, Weber carefully expands just how loathsome his physically vulnerable patriarch is), while collectively providing a sense of boiling resentment among them.

Calamy's performance is one of precise calculation and nuance, keeping us guessing about what Stéphane is really up to, while making the truth behind the character and her motives completely authentic when they do come to light. In that way, she's the heart of The Origin of Evil, giving us plenty of reason to care about, be slightly distrustful of, and, finally, end up shocked by everything and, to some extent, everyone in this story.

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