The Son

If you walked into The Son expecting the same structural wizardry Florian Zeller brought to The Father, you likely walked out feeling like you’d been sold a bill of goods. While Zeller’s previous outing used the language of cinema to put us inside the fracturing mind of a man with dementia, his 2022 follow-up plays things strictly linear, relentlessly grim, and frustratingly stagey. It’s a film that wants to have a "difficult conversation" about mental health, but it often feels like it’s shouting that conversation through a megaphone in a small, windowless room.

I watched this on a Tuesday afternoon while nursing a lukewarm cup of ginger tea that had gone entirely cold by the midpoint, and honestly, the chill of the tea matched the sterile, high-end apartment vibes of the film perfectly.

The Weight of the "Good Man"

The story centers on Peter, played by Hugh Jackman in a performance that feels like a desperate, sweating bid for an Oscar he probably deserves for something else. Peter is a high-powered lawyer with a sleek new life: a beautiful young wife, Vanessa Kirby (who does a lot with a somewhat thankless "other woman" role), and a fresh infant. This glass-and-steel peace is shattered when his ex-wife, played by a perpetually distressed Laura Dern, shows up to report that their teenage son, Nicholas (Zen McGrath), is spiraling.

Nicholas is skipping school, staring into space, and harboring a deep, localized resentment toward his father for blowing up the original family unit. Peter, driven by the classic "I won't be like my father" complex, brings Nicholas into his new home, convinced that a change of scenery and some firm-but-kind parenting will "fix" the boy. It’s here that the film’s central friction lives—the terrifying realization that some things can't be fixed by a better commute or a supportive chat. Hugh Jackman is genuinely moving when he’s playing Peter’s mounting helplessness, showing us a man who has optimized every part of his life except the parts that actually matter.

The Problem with Nicholas

The biggest hurdle for me—and for many who caught this during its blink-and-you-missed-it theatrical run—is the portrayal of Nicholas himself. Zen McGrath has the unenviable task of playing a vacuum. Depression is, by nature, an internal and often silent thief, but on screen, it needs a specific kind of calibration. Here, the performance feels less like a teenager in pain and more like a Victorian ghost haunting a J.Crew catalog.

There is a theatricality to the dialogue that worked in Zeller’s stage plays but feels brittle on film. When Nicholas speaks, it doesn’t sound like a Gen Z kid in 2022; it sounds like a "character" delivering "lines" about "pain." This creates a distancing effect. Instead of feeling empathy for Nicholas, I found myself watching the clock, waiting for the inevitable tragedy that the film’s heavy-handed foreshadowing spends two hours gift-wrapping for us.

However, the movie jolts to life during a brief, terrifying cameo by Anthony Hopkins. He plays Peter’s father, a monstrously cold patriarch who views his son’s empathy as a weakness. In just five minutes, Anthony Hopkins reminds us why he’s a legend, delivering a masterclass in casual cruelty that explains exactly why Peter is so desperately, clumsily trying to be a "good" dad. It’s the only scene where the film feels truly dangerous.

Misery in the Modern Moment

In our current era of "prestige" streaming and the post-pandemic mental health crisis, The Son feels like it’s trying to catch a wave that it doesn't quite understand. We’ve moved past the era where simply depicting depression is enough to earn a "brave" label. Audiences today are more literate in the nuances of therapy and clinical struggle. By the time the film reaches its climax, it resorts to a level of emotional manipulation that feels unearned.

The film's ending has been widely debated, and for good reason. Without spoiling the specifics, it utilizes a narrative feint that many viewers found cheap. To me, it felt like Zeller was trying to replicate the "aha!" moment of The Father, but instead of insight, he gave us a gut punch that left a bad taste. It’s a movie that mistakes relentless bleakness for profound depth. It’s essentially a two-hour PSA that has been polished until it’s too slippery to hold onto.

Ultimately, The Son is a well-acted but misguided attempt to tackle a subject that requires more surgical precision than Zeller provides here. It’s a reminder that even with an A-list cast and a brilliant director, some stories remain trapped between the footlights of the stage and the reality of the screen.

While Hugh Jackman gives his absolute all to a role that demands total vulnerability, the film around him feels too calculated to truly resonate. It’s a handsome, well-intentioned drama that ultimately feels more like a lecture than a lived experience. If you’re looking for a deep dive into the complexities of the human mind, revisit The Father instead—this one is just the echo.