What is to be done?
You have a 15 year old son in an institution. And he was committed to this institution in part because he was subject to “violent outbursts”. Indeed, he has been kicked out of a number of facilities already precisely because he is unable to keep a leash on the demons that compel these outbursts.
So, you decide to “deinstitutionalize” him. You decide to bring him back into your home and take care of him yourself. If for no other reason than to keep him out of jail.
On top of that, you are what some folks might refer to as “poor white trash”. And let’s be particularly blunt: in any number of ways she can be really, really disagreeable to live around.
The bottom line then is this: That any number of folks will just cross her off the list and move on to those they are considerably more comfortable sympathizing with. Still, for those who are willing to persevere there are the other parts of her. The parts worth waiting for.
As for the son…
His own mom calls him “a piece of work”. Volatile? Like a stick of dynamite. Or a bottle of nitroglycerine. Every time he’s on the screen the plot just bristles. Anything can happen. And there is no way in hell that I would ever have the patience that she displays here in dealing with it. In dealing with him. Sure, we are made to understand [up to a point] why he acts [and acts out] the way he does…but few of us would be willing to take on the sort of commitment that she is clearly saddled with.
And then the “mysterious neighbor” Kyla. The part behind the stuttering.
IMDb
[b]The film is presented in an unheard-of 1:1 aspect ratio; the “viewing area” of the screen is a perfect square.
Received a 9 minute standing ovation at the Cannes film festival.
When Diane, Steve, and Kyla are having dinner, Steve tells a story about how when he was little and his parents didn’t want him to understand their conversations, they would speak in English. Steve says that most conversations ended with either “shut up” or “fuck off.” He then says that he tried to befriend a little girl who spoke English by telling her to “shut up” and “fuck off,” because those were the only English phrases he knew, and he didn’t know what that meant. In the DVD commentary, Anne Dorval actually admits that this is her own personal experience from when she was little, and that she told a neighborhood child to “shut up.” Xavier Dolan thought her story was funny and decided to put it into the movie. [/b]
at wiki: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mommy_(2014_film
trailer: youtu.be/d7rtSqI0ZeA
MOMMY [2014]
Written and directed by Xavier Dolan
[b]Facility director: We gave Steve a chance. If you can’t take care of him, we’ll have to send him to our security department.
Die: Excuse me?
Facility director: Come on! Don’t act surprised! Your son is on the fast track to jail.
Die: Are you insane? My boy ain’t going to jail. I know the drill. Once they’re in they’re done for.
…
Facility director: Listen, Diane, I’ve seen tons of kids in and out of here. We save some, we lose some. That’s just the way it is. We’ve tried to help Steve, as have the special schools, and the youth centers. We’ve done what we can. Your turn.
Die: What am I going to do with him all day? I can’t drag him to work. I got a job. I can’t dump everything and go party with my kid. I’m broke. I’m this close to welfare and welfare’s a fucking no.
…
Facility director: [to Die]: Don’t consider him or yourself to be invincible. That’s the worst thing you could do. Loving people doesn’t save them. Love’s not enought. Unfortunately.
…
Die [to facility director]: At least you fixed his bad language.
…
Die: You’ve been back 24 hours and this place is a slum! Tidy the hell up!
Steve: Mind if I jerk-off in peace?!
Die: The bunched up tissues, not so classy. All right, get your jizz together and we’ll be in business.
Steve: Gonna hold my dick when I piss, too?!
Die: If it helps you to shoot straight.
…
Steve [to the cab driver]: What did you call my mom, you big monkey?! Motherfucking nigger!
Die: Steve! Stop it!
Steve: Shut your mouth bitch!
Die: I think he got your point!
Steve [to the cab driver]: Go back to the jungle mixing coconut drinks! Not in my country!
Die: Steve! Stop being racist!
Steve: I’m not being racist! He’s a nigger!
…
Steve: It ain’t our first ride, Diane, is it?
Die: No, no…
Steve: Come on, look at me. We’re gonna be a team. The two of us! I’m gonna contol myself and I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you.
Die: Number one priority, school, ok? I was your age when I dropped out. And look at me now, I’m a wreck! No diploma, no education, nada! A fucking loser!
…
Die [trying to stay calm while Steve is exploding]: You’re gonna calm down, breathe nicely…and you’re gonna take your pill…
Steve [enraged]: Don’r give me that!
[he grabs her, pins her to the wall and starts choking her]
Steve: You give me that shit and I’m a fucking finish ya! I’m a kill you and all your fucking meds!
…
Kyla [stuttering]: We…we…we should really get him to a hospital.
Die: No…no hospital.
…
Die [to Kyla]: Steve has ADHD. Disruptive, confrontational. And apparently some attachment disorder, or whatever it’s called. He was okay when he was little, we thought it was just hyperactivity. But then his dad died three years ago…
…
Die [to Kyla]: I wonder if you might do me a teeny-weeny favor…
…
Steve [on full throttle yanks a necklace off Kyla]: Cute girly necklace…
[he starts to slap her and she lunges at him]
Steve: Get off me bitch!
[Kyla drags him to the floor]
Kyla: Shut your mouth! Shut your fucking mouth! Get your hands off me! And give me that necklace back before I crush your skull! You got it? You got it now?!! That’s what you want, eh? You love it that way, right?..huh?..huh?..Do I bring up your dead father? Do I fucking bring up that? So shut it tight, sit your ass on the sofa, and hold it fucking together![/b]
An absolutely riviting scene. It’ll blow you away.
[b]Die: Is the kid that set the cafeteria on fire a shithead? The kid whose mom is meeting with the neighbor who’s helping him for free so you don’t end up in juvenile hall?
Steve: I’m not going back!
Die: I know you dumbass! But for fuck’s sake, we gotta lawyer our asses up. We can’t just sit and wait for God to come down on a fucking cloud!
…
Die [to Steve]: We gotta put some water in our wine. Ever hear that expression? It means we gotta put on a good show tonight.
…
Paul: Your mother is going through hell for you! Because of you! She gives you everything, her cash, her time, her whole life! And how do you thank her tonight? You spit in my face and start a brawl!
Steve: Go fuck yourself, bitch, with your lame-ass shitty lawyer job! Come on! You just want my mom to suck your cock…
[Paul slaps his face…then Die slaps Paul]
Paul [to Die]: Fuck you. Choke on your fucking loser problems.
…
Die: He was gonna help us. Help you.
Steve: No one can help us. They’re all the same!! It’s just the two of us, fuck the rest of them!!
Die: You know what my big problem is? You. No more job because of you. No money! No life! Meds, bail, correctional centers, and now a fucking lawsuit! Will someone give me a fucking break?! No! Steve-o ladies and gentlemen! A break? Hell no! Dream on, Die, dream on! Daddy dug the grave, sonny keeps digging! And I’m singing in the rain! And it just goes on and on and on 'cause you always find a fucking brilliant way so the shit hits the fan full fucking blast! And I just keep cleaning the shit off the walls! Come on, wipe the retard’s ass. Just wipe the fucking retard’s ass!
…
Steve [to Kyla after he has slit his wrist]: You can do it. Just say the fucking words.
…
Steve: We still love each other, right?
Die: That’s what we’re best at, buddy.
…
Steve: How can you do this to me?
Die: It’s for your own good, sweetie!
Steve: My own good, you fucking traitor! You dump me here like goddamn trash! You got sick of me! You’re done with me![/b]
Jesus, I didn’t see that coming.
Die: He hit him! He hit him!
Man from the institution: You signed the form! Let us do our job!
Die: I didn’t sign for you to hit my son!
Man from the institution: Withdrawal clause specifies 24 hour notice!
Die: Fuck your clause! I’m his mother. I decide.
Man from the institution: Not anymore.