The best-timed premiere of the year reminds us that reuniting with family is, at the very least, strange.

The little teachers who enjoy detecting correspondences, rhymes and easter eggs among the different titles in Jim Jarmusch's filmography they will chat with Father, mother, sister, brotherThe film is full of resonances. From the outset, it connects three stories through a common thread, both thematic and formal, much like several of Jarmusch's previous anthologies. A great admirer of the short story format (an adult, impressionistic, and open-ended short story, in the tradition of certain 20th-century American literature), the filmmaker had previously directed films such as Mystery train (also with three stories), Night on Earth (also contrasting self-contained plots in different parts of the world) or Coffee and cigarettesA collection of black and white short films that always included an iconic overhead shot of a table with an ashtray and cups, which reappears here as a nod to the original. Furthermore, the film revives the visual style of depicting conversations between acquaintances who seem like strangers, and the poetry of earthly matters so prevalent throughout the director's work and style. Paterson

Put that way, it might seem that Father, mother, sister, brother It requires this prior knowledge from the viewer, and that would not be the case. The latest Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival Anyone who has to reunite with family members this holiday season can decode it (very good) timing (Premiere). That is to say, almost everyone. These three short stories, so similar and yet so different, show how these reunions are always, at the very least, strange. And also potentially comical and absurd. What do we know about our parents when we haven't lived together for a long time? And about our children? In the third story, the tale of the twins, an unbreakable emotional bond between siblings is hinted at, much stronger than that between parents and offspring. It's good that Jarmusch changes course at the end, because that's when the film breathes and demonstrates that cinema, like life, is much better without a rigid script.