Beautiful and moving.

Nothing much happens but we are touched. Just like real life. Available as I write this on Kanopy

Ozu's Late Spring is one of the greatest films of all time for my money and if someone were to tell me that it was being remade I might take to the streets in protest; however, Claire Denis accomplishes the impossible in translating the wistful melancholy of Ozu into a new format that may not equal the original but certainly does it justice.

This is not a good film: it has nothing to say and it is event-less. Claire Denis apparently thinks that a film with mainly non-Caucasian French actors is by the same token wonderful. It certainly is the case that the French film industry is shockingly white... but to me Denis' thinking is itself rather racist. Imagine this film, with such dullness, but with white actors.... Sorry, a case of the emperor's new clothes. Beautifully shot, of course. A beautifully shot turkey.

Somehow Claire Denis has managed to create a warm moody film, one that ruminates about the positive aspects of our closest relationships (in this case between single dad and daughter), even as it signals the changes that must occur without ever making them too sad. In this way, Denis has taken her cues from Ozu, particularly Late Spring (1949) which also sees a father contemplating his daughter's future life without him. Alex Descas plays the dad as a man of few words but deep feeling. His life is complicated by romantic pursuit from a neighbour, a chain-smoking taxi driver, who has long been treated as part of the family. Another neighbour provides a romantic interest for Josephine, the daughter (played by Mati Diop). The relationships between these four principals and a few others make up the heart of the film and Denis allows the richness and complexity of real life to infuse the film. At the same time, her eye for composition (including Ozu-like still lifes), her ear for the way that the soundtrack can evoke moods (courtesy of the Tindersticks), and her thoughtful script that leaves ambiguities everywhere, such that we don't really know anything about the backstory of the characters except what we can infer, elevate the film beyond an ordinary drama. In the end, Alex drinks the 35 shots of rum to mark a special occasion, though we are left to guess at what has happened (but the second rice cooker gives it away). Rich and satisfying without ever threatening to be a major statement.

A beautiful French movie about a father and daughter relationship.

Far too slowly paced and packed with needless filler, "35 Rhums" has plenty of heart, but suffers greatly from a constant barrage of needless filler scenes and a general lack of anything interesting happening at all.

A man lives alone with his marriageable daughter. His best friend kills himself. His wife dies at sea. His daughter runs off with the fellow next door. Not necessarily all in that order. Just delightful. Black life without political angst, full of pathos, subtle characterisations, and moving performances.

35 Shots of Rum is a movie that very effectively utilizes the moving, meaningful power of subtlety, exploring its immense possibility to create emotion. The film captures and then uses the beauty of the non-verbal, using it as a springboard for its emotional substance, much like the photographer that uses a still image to express what cannot be said, only felt. We first see these kinds of things in the very beginning of the movie as Lionel (Alex Descas) stands beside a Paris rail line at dusk observing and contemplating his quiet, somewhat somber surroundings. What is created in the films' opening shots are two very important things: the overall mood of the film and the instantaneous unveiling of a man's personality. As the camera pans to Lionel standing and smoking, the strong sensation of a man contently concealed in his own personal introversion and introspection becomes apparent. It is not an introversion that is misanthropic, nor is it one that shuts him off in a way that is counterproductive. It is a kind that keeps him motivated and content, especially since he shares it with someone who is probably the most important thing to him: his daughter, Josephine. Josephine (Mati Diop) is Lionel's passion in life, as well as his lone counterpart to his personality. Josephine is a beautiful girl that seems to be in her early twenties. She exudes maturity and responsibility: two attributes that were most likely prompted by an upbringing by a deeply devoted and caring father. Together, Lionel and Josephine live a lifestyle outside of what most would consider typical. They're content in their seclusion and introversion, and they've created a lifestyle for themselves that keeps them satisfied. Lionel has become accustomed to a pattern of familiarity: he drives a train on a Paris rail line (a job that perfectly complements his character traits; he sits alone in the conductor's booth, quietly reflecting, contemplating and observing). When he returns home, Josephine is there to greet him, removing herself temporarily from her studies to talk to him and eat dinner. Two other tenants in their apartment building are also part of this familiarity in a way this is tangential to Lionel and Josephine but relatively removed, even if it is only by space. Noe (Gregoire Colin) and Gabrielle (Nicole Dogue) share a bond with Lionel and Josephine that exists by possessing lifestyles that are also peripheral in nature. Noe is elusive-both physically and characteristically-and has strong feelings for Josephine. He is rarely home and relishes in the memory of his deceased parents by inhabiting the apartment they once lived in and not changing a thing inside of it. Gabrielle lives alone and drives a taxi for a living. She was once Lionel's lover and at one time spent a lot of emotional energy over a young Josephine. As a result, a unique relationship exists between them, and one can tell it is something they have come to rely on. This aforementioned bond could not become clearer to the viewer than during what I feel to be the most powerful, telling scene of the entire film: After Gabrielle's car breaks down on a botched attempt to see a concert, the four of them seek refuge from a storm at a local café just before closing time. The owners cook for them and let them stay long enough to wait out the storm. Shortly thereafter, music begins to play and they begin to dance. It is here that Denis uses the aforementioned power of the non-verbal to convey emotion and intent. The climax of the scene happens when we hear The Commodore's "Nightshift" in a scene of incredible beauty between Noe and Josephine. Here, two important things happen. Noe finally confronts his own feelings for Josephine. As this happens, Lionel confronts something different: a dilemma. As he watches Josephine and Noe dance, he realizes that it might be best to finally let Josephine go. After years of living within a pattern of familiarity with her by his side, he begins to notice that his comfort must be sacrificed in order to let Josephine live her life and reach her full potential-even if as a start it's the simple exploration of a relationship between his daughter and Noe. What happens in the rest of the film simply has to be viewed. I would be doing a huge disservice if I were to explain any further. 35 Shots of Rum is powerful, simple and incredibly moving. On imdb.com, one user review uses the phrase "ordinarily spellbinding." I could not agree more. It is a movie about people and the things that connect them, cause conflict and create epiphanies or dilemma. There is no judgment placed on any character for any action by the filmmaker. It's a movie that simply explores a group of people, what they share and what they must do to continue. It is about life. From a technical standpoint, its pacing is perfect. Some might find it slow, but it adds to the feel of the movie, creating a flow that is complimentary to the actions and characteristics of the people it is portraying. At the end of the film I felt a sense of warmth and satisfaction, and it's a movie that grows on you with time and deliberation. My first viewing was great. My second was one of sheer pleasure and deep admiration for a filmmaker, her method and her actors.

Good, absorbing tale of life and love in black working class Paris. The narrative is observed in snapshots, so the viewer has to work a little to make sense of the plot. Such as it is - this is a slice of life and not primarily a tale with a beginning middle and happy ending. Good stuff.

Definitely slow if u'r not an arthouse lover..but you dont want to break the spell by walking away either.

Sadly 35 Rhums is the definition of a dull film which does'nt really have anywhere to go. Its not down to the performances which are fine, but the actors just don?t have anything to run with, which is down to a fragile slow script and blandly written characters . A precious piece of cinema which highlights are a breaking down of a car and a death of fat cat. Go figure. pedestrian and mundane.

A heavily tragic tone hangs over this simple portrait of a father daughter relationship. Very understated film that plays out wonderfully.

Subtle is the word here. Subtle, powerful, heartfelt, and beautiful. Four words.

A subtle and understated movie...continues at the same tempo and it ends...a simple story with sensitive depiction by the director and actors

I found this drab, dreary and uninteresting, which is a shame for a unique film with plenty of promise.

Touching story of a father,his grown daughter and the makeshift family they collect around them in Paris.

Subtle relationship story without much plot structure, relies more on themes.

Perfectly balanced; perfectly contained. Not all is revealed, and yet enough is revealed to not leave you completely guessing or confused. It's described as "slice of life", and that it is. My wife gives it a 5; I rate it lower, so we came to this compromise.

A stunningly beautiful, perfectly acted, Ozu-like masterpiece of taut dramatic realism with a stunningly under-played central performance from Alex Descas and superb direction from the flawless Claire Denis.