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Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator
If you like movies where people stand around in dusty rooms and argue about the past, you might dig Le fils improvisé. It’s definitely not for the action crowd, and if you need a clear, tidy ending where everyone learns a lesson, you’ll probably hate it. It feels like a stage play that just happens to be on film, which is both its best trick and its biggest headache.
The whole thing hinges on this woman, played by Florelle, who is just trying to keep her comfortable life with her antique-dealer boyfriend intact. Then this kid shows up. He’s got that specific, slightly annoying confidence that makes you want to reach through the screen and shake him. Is he really her long-lost son, or just a grifter looking for a payday? The movie never really feels like it wants to tell you for sure.
I found myself staring at the background furniture more than I probably should have. There’s a scene where they’re talking near this weird, lopsided lamp, and I spent a solid two minutes wondering if it was a prop or just bad set dressing. The rhythm of the dialogue is also kind of funny. Sometimes they’re shouting at each other, and then suddenly everyone is whispering like they’re afraid the walls are listening. It’s inconsistent, but honestly? It feels more real than most polished stuff I see these days.
If you’re into the old stuff, this feels a bit like Our Pet in the way it handles these domestic power struggles, though with way less charm. It doesn't have the grand scale of The Photo-Drama of Creation—thank god—but it’s got enough of a pulse to be worth a watch if you’re bored on a rainy Tuesday.
It’s not a masterpiece, and I doubt I’ll ever think about it again next week. But for ninety minutes, it was just enough. 🎥
