De familie van mijn vrouw: An odd, creaky relic

Is this for you?

Honestly, unless you are a die-hard completist for 1930s European cinema, you’re probably going to have a rough time with De familie van mijn vrouw. It’s a loud, frantic, and fairly repetitive affair that feels like it’s been trapped in a time capsule for ninety years. If you enjoy watching theatrical acting styles that haven't quite figured out how to be 'small' for the camera, you might find some charm here. Everyone else? You’ll likely be checking your watch by the twenty-minute mark.

The film moves with the grace of a caffeinated toddler. It’s all about the domestic chaos, which—as we’ve seen in countless other films like She Gets Her Man—is usually code for 'let’s have people run through doors until the audience gets dizzy.'

There is a specific moment where Johan Kaart’s character just stares blankly at the wall for what feels like an eternity. It’s not even a dramatic pause. It looks like he forgot his next line and the director just decided to leave it in the final cut. It’s weirdly hypnotic.

The staging is undeniably stiff. You can almost see the floorboards creaking under the weight of how hard everyone is trying to sell the comedy. It’s not that they aren’t talented, it’s just that the script gives them absolutely zero breathing room. Everything is a scream, a gesture, or a frantic scramble for the exit.

Bits and pieces:

• The lighting in the living room scenes has this weird, hazy glow that makes everyone look like they’re being filmed through a bag of flour.
• I swear the same background prop—a very ugly vase—appears in at least four different rooms. Maybe they were on a budget?
• The dialogue is incredibly fast. It makes me wonder if they were trying to save on film stock or if they just wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.

It’s not as polished as The Man in the Iron Mask, obviously, but comparing the two is like comparing a bicycle to a space shuttle. It’s a scrappy, uneven little production. Sometimes that’s enough to keep you watching, even when the plot starts to fall apart like wet cardboard.

I found myself more interested in the wallpaper patterns than the actual family dynamics. There's this one floral print that shows up in the hallway that is genuinely distracting. Why is it so bright? Who chose that?

Anyway. It’s a movie that exists. It’s loud, it’s old, and it has a very specific kind of energy that you either vibe with or you don't. I mostly didn't, but I can't say I wasn't paying attention. 🕰️