The Childhood of a Leader 2016

Whenever an individual has a profound effect on society, it's going to be tempting to look into that individual's childhood to try and parse some meaning, some trigger for their actions. Historians will pore over information on relationships with family members, other children, contemporary events. What The Childhood of a Leader does is show, without too much heavy-handed insight or explanation, the childhood of a man who becomes such an individual.

A fair amount has been written about Brady Corbet's transition from an actor frequently hired by vaunted European arthouse directors to play Americans to a director in his own right; as a first-time director, it doesn't seem unreasonable that Corbet uses a variety of sources as inspiration. What's more remarkable is that he does so while making a film that's quite unlike those it draws its inspiration from. The camera stays measured for the most part, showing the grandness of the French mansion that a diplomat, his wife and son have taken while the diplomat assists Woodrow Wilson's government in negotiations around the Treaty of Versailles. It's a house that's slowly succumbing to its environment, ensconced in the French countryside surrounded by fog and snow. The diplomat is stiff and distant, incapable of relating to his wife and son. His wife is aloof, uncomfortable in her skin. She confesses to her son's French tutor that she never wanted this life for herself.

In amongst all this is Prescott, a sullen, moody child. The film is divided into four sections, three of them centering around increasingly rage-filled tantrums as Prescott's behaviour deteriorates. He's bored, coddled by the family's main servant, ignored or patronised by his parents. He begins to act out, throwing stones at parishioners and locking himself in his room for days. His behaviour doesn't have an obvious trigger, nor does he or anyone else seek to explain it. His priest has him apologise to his flock as they leave the church, his father chases him around the house and beats him. His emerging sexuality begins to manifest, first voyeuristically and then physically. His parents react to his acting out which clearly upsets him, but nothing seems to tip him over the edge.

Tom Sweet's performance as Prescott is a wonder. He manages to mix petulance and rage with a knowing, sly intelligence. At one point his father scolds his mother for letting a child run the household - the power of Sweet's performance is such that the idea of this happening is completely convincing. The other cast all do an excellent job; Liam Cunningham and Bérénice Bejo are awkward and stiff around one another, bound by circumstance and a common lack of child-rearing capability. Robert Pattinson is used sparingly but very effectively as the diplomat's verbose, intellectual friend and in a brief, pivotal role.

Scott Walker's much-discussed score goes a long way to making the film what it is. It's loud, bombastic, sickening in its twists and turns. It makes the film feel like a fever dream, a train hurtling towards its destination. At the end of the film it reaches a manic conclusion, the camera twisting and turning. The final ten minutes of the film are what it has been building towards for hours, hints and half-remembered dreams that culminate in a twist that unsettles and disorientates.