Ronny Sianturi
Lean, mean, and frequently terrifying, Léa Mysius’s third feature film, The Birthday Party (Histoires de la nuit), plunges audiences into a chilling home-invasion thriller that echoes the unsettling suspense of films like Michael Haneke’s Funny Games and Christian Tafdrup’s Speak No Evil. While it may not reach the same heights of explicit sadism as its cinematic predecessors, Mysius’s adaptation of Laurent Mauvignier’s French bestseller delivers a potent and psychologically driven narrative. The film shares a thematic and atmospheric kinship with Mysius’s 2022 fantasy drama, The Five Devils, particularly in its exploration of remote settings and an appetite for darkness. However, The Birthday Party demonstrates a more cohesive storytelling approach, even as its climactic act strains credulity with a series of improbable events. Despite this narrative wobble, the film stands as a taut, nail-biting experience bolstered by a strong ensemble cast.
The harrowing ordeal unfolds over one intensely long night for the Bergogne family, residents of a small dairy farm nestled in rural Western France. Thomas (Bastien Bouillon), the hardworking proprietor of the farm, and his wife, Nora (Hafsia Herzi), who has just received a significant career promotion as head of town-planning at her office job on her 40th birthday, are the central figures. Their intelligent preteen daughter, Ida (Tawba El Gharchi), rounds out their seemingly idyllic family unit.
Their closest neighbor is Cristina (Monica Bellucci), a well-heeled Italian artist who inhabits a distressed-chic studio, seemingly a converted barn, where Ida often stops to paint after school. This seemingly peaceful coexistence is subtly disrupted by early narrative signals. One such instance involves Nora’s strong reaction to a video Ida posted online of the family dancing. Despite Ida’s protests about losing a significant number of views, Nora insists on its removal, revealing a deep-seated aversion to public social media exposure. This early moment foreshadows a desire for privacy that will be violently violated.
Another significant omen arrives when a shifty individual, later identified as Flo (Paul Hamy), appears at the farmhouse while the family is out. He claims to Cristina that he is interested in purchasing the property. Cristina, aware of no such plans for the Bergognes to sell, immediately harbors suspicions, her intuition signaling danger. Her eagerness to dismiss Flo quickly is a testament to her perceptive nature.
Flo’s presence is not fleeting. He soon returns, accompanied by his seemingly less intelligent younger brother, Bègue (Alane Delhaye), who has a history of psychiatric treatment, and later, their older, more dominant sibling, Franck (Benoît Magimel). When Ida arrives at Cristina’s studio after school, the place appears deserted, even Cristina’s dog is absent. However, the brothers are merely hiding Ida to prevent her from warning Thomas upon his return, a calculated move to isolate the family and control information flow.
Beyond the palpable sense of encroaching dread and the imminent threat of violence, Mysius’s script delves into the insidious psychological violation that arises from intruders possessing intimate knowledge of their victims. The perpetrators are aware of Thomas’s financial precariousness, having bought the family farm during a challenging period for the agricultural sector, leaving him deeply in debt. This knowledge allows Franck and his accomplices to exploit Thomas’s vulnerabilities. They permit him to enter the farmhouse and begin decorating for Nora’s surprise birthday party, a cruel prelude to their true intentions.
Nora’s journey home is further delayed by a flat tire, a minor inconvenience that amplifies the growing tension. Upon her arrival, Franck greets her with an unsettling familiarity, addressing her as “Leïla.” Nora, naturally, insists he has the wrong person. However, Franck remains unswayed, escalating the confrontation and hinting at a shared past that casts a shadow of doubt over Thomas’s understanding of his wife. This revelation plants seeds of marital distrust, amplifying the familial strain already present.
Mysius masterfully sustains this chilling negotiation phase, allowing the tension to simmer. The characters are all compellingly drawn, but the director truly imbues the material with her distinct vision through her focus on the female characters. They are not depicted as passive victims cowering in fear; instead, they exhibit quiet strategizing, actively seeking out any vulnerabilities within Franck and his brothers.
The scenes involving Bègue, left to guard Cristina in her studio, are particularly compelling. He attempts to project an air of toughness, but Cristina skillfully uncovers his underlying vulnerability, offering sympathetic gestures and acknowledging the demeaning treatment he endures from his siblings. Bellucci delivers a nuanced performance as Cristina, who appears to be formulating a plan but exercises caution and restraint. Her conversations with Bègue about her art, coupled with shared wine and cannabis, create an almost serene interlude, highlighting Bègue’s unfamiliarity with being treated as an intelligent adult. This deceptive calm, however, is ultimately shattered.
Meanwhile, Nora is subjected to increasing psychological pressure regarding aspects of her past that she has kept hidden from her family. The forced acknowledgment of her history with Franck intertwines marital tensions and deep-seated trust issues with the unpredictable nature of volatile strangers who clearly possess a propensity for brutal violence.
Throughout this escalating crisis, Ida is ostensibly encouraged to remain in the living room, occupied with cartoons on television. However, the perceptive child is acutely aware of the unfolding events, even if she doesn’t fully grasp their gravity. Her silent observation adds another layer of unease to the narrative.
In addition to the compelling portrayals of the women, the trio of antagonists injects a potent dynamic into the film. Benoît Magimel, in what can be described as his "Brando phase," commands the screen with an imposing physical presence and menacing dialogue that is as unsettling as it is effective. Paul Hamy, as the magnetic Flo, is a livewire, embodying a potent mix of cocky charm and palpable danger. Alane Delhaye, as Bègue, offers a touchingly vulnerable portrayal of a character ill-suited for a life of crime, a realization he likely harbors himself.
However, the standout performance undoubtedly belongs to Hafsia Herzi. Already recognized for her memorable role in Abdellatif Kechiche’s The Secret of the Grain and for her directorial work on the exquisite queer coming-of-age drama The Little Sister at Cannes last year, Herzi solidifies her status as a major talent. Her performance in The Birthday Party is a tour de force, showcasing her profound depth and emotional range. She is a significant force in contemporary cinema, deserving of wider international recognition for her contributions both as an actress and a filmmaker.
Given the film’s efficient pacing through its setup and its compellingly uncomfortable middle act, where the sense of impending doom is almost unbearable, it is a lamentable missed opportunity that Mysius falters in the film’s conclusion. The abrupt shift towards implausibility in the final act can be jarring, pulling the viewer out of the immersive experience. Instances such as a character surviving a gunshot wound only to attend to matters of the heart, or another character displaying an improbable skill with a rifle reminiscent of the most clichéd Westerns, detract from the film’s otherwise grounded realism. These narrative contrivances feel like missed opportunities for nuanced storytelling, particularly within a genre that thrives on psychological tension and believable escalation.
The history of American remakes of European genre films is a mixed bag, with varying degrees of success. However, The Birthday Party presents a compelling case for a thoughtful adaptation. With judicious retooling of its somewhat wobbly third act, this film possesses the potential to evolve into a highly viable and impactful property for a wider audience, retaining its core strengths while addressing its narrative shortcomings. The underlying thematic resonance and strong performances offer a solid foundation for a more polished and impactful conclusion.
