Mother, Couch!
Directed by Niclas Larsson
Starring Ewan McGregor, Ellen Burstyn, Taylor Russell, F. Murray Abraham
Runtime: 96 minutes
In theaters July 2024

by Billie Anderson, Staff Writer

“I can’t apologize, but can you forgive me?”

When I saw Mother, Couch! at TIFF last year, it really stuck with me. With the rise of more absurdist, existential movies such as I’m Thinking of Ending Things, Beau is Afraid, and Kinds of Kindness, Mother, Couch! still offers a uniquely creative storytelling device. Niclas Larsson states that this absurdity was purposeful in his creation process, noting that the descriptive scenes from the script were kept a secret from the cast, who were only allowed to see dialogue. This extends to the experience of seeing his feature debut for the first time: when you hear the premise “members of a family find themselves trapped in an antiquated furniture store when their mother suddenly refuses to get up from one of the display couches,” you aren’t prepared for the deeply unnerving production that Larsson offers. 

Mother, Couch! grapples with the grief of losing a parent through her unwillingness to leave a furniture store. Where Mother, Couch! differs from other similar films is that Ellen Burstyn’s matriarch was not a loving parent. A deep dive into the complications and confusions of aging - particularly when the relationship with the parent concerned is strained, abusive, or outright nonexistent - means that this film is a difficult watch. So often we are presented with stories of how difficult it is for families of those with dementia, seeing someone you love slowly disappear and regress over time. In contrast, perhaps watching someone who hurt and abandoned you slowly fall apart should leave you with a sense of catharsis. In reality, it is a complete mess - a whirlwind of justifications, half-apologies, finding out bits of pieces of your family’s life through arguments or mumbles, trying to explain yourself and your history to your friends and loved ones, and being forced to piece together a much fuller story than you’ll ever truly know. Realizing that your trauma was due to someone else’s trauma doesn’t just heal the years lost. Sometimes, you just have to let go.

The thing about life is that tragedy never happens tragically. Life is awkward, uncomfortable, and hard, but our experiences do not happen in isolation. Trying to piece together your own history feels like an experience in absurdity. When my grandma died, we thought the priest that led her funeral kept saying her name wrong. At the end of the ceremony, one of my cousins approached him to let him know, just out of courtesy. Instead, we learned that none of us actually knew her full name. It wasn’t Aurora, but rather Gabrielle, and her middle name was Aurore, not Aurora - we were wrong on all fronts. How absurd to learn your grandmother’s name for the first time out of the mouth of a stranger. When I think of this moment, a moment that should have been somber, or nostalgic, or outright devastating, I laugh. 

Mother, Couch! deceives audiences with a false sense of security through the comedic dialogue and awkward familial encounters before abruptly revealing its true, unsettling nature. Like my experience at the funeral, I left the theater after my first watch feeling emotions that were not anticipated. The premise of this film truly prepares you for a comedy. As a result, the reality of the story lingers long after the credits roll. While it’s not for everyone, there’s something really comforting to me about a movie that makes me uncomfortable. The pace forces you to let go and just take in the story, which means that the landing really sticks. 

This movie absorbed me from the off in the way usually only a stage production can. I found it very play-like in its dialogue and pacing. The setting amplifies this theatrical vibe, with an IKEA-like furniture store resembling elaborate stage sets in a warehouse. Cinematographer Chayse Irvin matches the film's eccentric setting with images of warm, melancholic sepia tones, lending a vintage comfort to the premise's light absurdism, akin to the well-worn couch nearby. Yet, there are poignant disruptions that reinforce the theatrics: scenes abruptly cut off mid-sentence, humor turning dark and a jittery jazz score mirroring the family’s anxiety as he grapples with the paradox that striving to be a good son makes him a flawed father. 

The cast really holds all the disjointed pieces together. Ellen Burstyn is incredible in this movie - Larsson notes that she was chosen for the role because she terrified him growing up in The Exorcist and Requiem for a Dream - and the dynamic between Ewan McGregor, Rhys Ifans, and Lara Flynn Boyle feels remarkably authentic. Taylor Russell and F. Murray Abraham are unique takes on comedic relief characters: strangers existing in a tragic family narrative. Rather than grounding the family in a reality like the priest from my grandma’s funeral, they reinforce the absurdity of the narrative, making it harder to tell what is happening and what is made up. 

In the ending, the metaphor of a "sinking ship" takes on a literal form: a downpour transforms the parking lot of the furniture store into an ocean, and the matriarch uses the couch as a makeshift boat, sending her off into the sea, never to return. Sometimes you say goodbye for the last time in a furniture store, with your mom begging you to let go. Mother, Couch! marks a truly remarkable directorial debut. While McGregor and Russell may draw many to seek out this film, its closing scenes will be what they remember. 

“I never intentionally tried to hurt you, but a mother’s gotta do what a mother’s gotta do.”