It took thirty minutes of watching 35 Shots of Rum to figure out that Lionel (Alex Descas) is Josephine’s (Mati Diop) father, not her lover. In the manner of the Taiwanese cinema with which she shares stylistic affinities, Claire Denis places considerable demands on the audience’s patience. What links her work with recent films by countrymen Olivier Assayas (Summer Hours) and André Téchiné (The Witnesses) is its puzzling over the composition of the family. In an era when immigration from former colonies has changed the molecular structure of nationhood, why define family as a unit that shares blood relations?
As fluid as the part of a story that in the memory erases the extraneous, 35 Shots of Rum suffers like most Denis films from a lack of tension; her camera tends to arrive at conflicts already resolved or before arguments erupt. Movement is her favorite subject. The second most erotic-touching moment between father and daughter occurs when Descas, ravaged by a hangover, allows his daughter to nurse him to health as if he were suffering from a disease. “Erotic” yes, sensual definitely, but not sexual. Diap’s long arms uncovering crock pots and pouring water suggest a woman very far from feeling indentured to her father; she’s accepted that this is the most fulfilling relationship in her life. The biker boy played by Gregoire Colin (playing a variation on his pouty-lipped cad from The Dream Life of Angels) merely satisfies bodily urges.
As for the film’s most erotic moment, it takes place after this makeshift family, all of whom live in the same apartment complex, suffer a tire blowout and takes refuge at a cozy dive a few minutes from closing time. They dry off and wait for their food by dancing to the Commodores’ “Nightshift.” The combination of water, the warming effect of one drink, and a spontaneous overflow of emotion lends both the pas de deux between Diap-Descas and the cybersoul elegy to Marvin Gaye a sense of unrealized possibilities; with this song, in this bar, at this moment, these characters can go anywhere, and it frightens them. To follow these people this far you have to trust Denis’ method, and what she does with these actors, who once again show that acting isn’t pretending so much as behaving. The wonder of Denis’ method is to satisfy despite ending the movie exactly where we expected. And yet — why is Descas’ final grin so enigmatic?
Humanizing The Vacuum 
This analysis is spot-on yet puzzling: You seem disappointed at the outset of this review and enamored at the finish. As we’ve discussed, I love the film, especially the “Nightshift” scene, which is one of the more quietly haunting love scenes I’ve seen in some time.
Really? Not at all my intention. I loved it. I’m watching it again this weekend.
One thing that really struck me was the movie’s warmth. Even the macabre subplot of the one employee who prematurely retires felt strangely appropriate within the tone of the film, and I loved the little dub flourishes up against the train lines. And the rice! Such a rich and simple device.