An hour into Tom at the Farm, a woman is delivered to an isolated rural homestead by a taxi driver who refuses to enter its long, dusty driveway. “I don’t do that house,” he says before dumping the woman and her luggage by the side of the road. The film’s titular protagonist could have used a similar warning before approaching the property, but he walks unknowingly into a psychosexual nightmare involving the home’s occupants in 26-year-old French-Canadian wunderkind Xavier Dolan’s impressive thriller.
For inexplicable reasons, Tom at the Farm was held up at the border after its release in 2013 and didn’t find a U.S. distributor until Amplify Releasing finally picked it up this year. The lack of interest was baffling because, before Dolan’s Mommy nabbed the 2014 Jury Prize at Cannes, Tom at the Farm was lauded as the writer/director/actor’s big leap into accessibility. Adapted from Michel Marc Bouchard’s play of the same name, the film reins in Dolan’s most indulgent tendencies. His trademark flamboyant dream sequences–which he resurrected to great effect in Mommy–have been replaced by the beautifully restrained cinematography of André Turpin. Also missing is the butt-numbing length that dulled 2012’s otherwise stunning Laurence Anyways, giving way to a taut and purposeful pace.
The film opens with Tom (Dolan) in his car, angrily scribbling notes on a napkin as he pushes stringy, bottle-blond hair from his face. He is mourning the sudden death of Guillaume, his lover and colleague at a Montreal ad agency. Parked among cornfields deep in the Québec countryside, he seems lost in all possible ways. Once he arrives at Guillaume’s family farm for the funeral, he finds his lover’s mother, Agathe (Lise Roy), has no idea who he is. Guillaume not only kept his relationship with Tom a secret, but told his mother he had a longtime girlfriend—a woman whose failure to show up for the funeral is bitterly noted by Agathe. Tom is hurt and confused, but plays along with the ruse. However, in the middle of the night, Guillaume’s older brother Francis (Pierre-Yves Cardinal) pounces on Tom’s sleeping form, covering his mouth and hissing threats. Francis knows exactly who Tom is and makes it frighteningly clear his mother is never to know of Guillaume’s secret life in the big city.
After the funeral, Francis assaults Tom in a bathroom stall, a kinky sexual tension oozing from beneath the cruelty. Tom speeds away in his car, only to remember he’s left his luggage at the farm. His return sets the stage for an increasingly dangerous game of homoerotic aggression between him and Francis. Against all sense, he is drawn into helping on the farm by Agathe’s desperate need for a connection to her dead son, and by small moments of civility and vulnerability shown to him by Francis. An awkward dance between the men among bales of hay–shot in gorgeous, golden hues by Turpin–momentarily hints there may be healing to be found in this sad, deceptive mess, but, alas, every instance of tenderness has a vicious counterpoint. Eventually, Sarah (Evelyne Brochu), Guillaume’s faux girlfriend, arrives via the ominous taxi driver, finding that Tom is now suffering from acute Stockholm Syndrome and setting in motion the film’s frantic final act.
All the performances are solid. Dolan, who was drawn to filmmaking by his desire to act, has found in Tom the perfect role for his brooding beauty, and Cardinal is fantastic as Francis, adding layers of sadness and complexity to an otherwise reprehensible character. The actresses, who were both lifted from the stage play, are also excellent. Roy makes Agathe’s grief as eerie as it is moving, projecting a subtle canniness that suggests she is more aware of the dark goings on at her farm than she lets on. Meanwhile, Brochu scene-steals her way through limited screen time, embodying Sarah with a droll, no-nonsense attitude that brings both levity and sanity to a deadly situation.
As usual, Dolan masterfully uses music to propel his story along. The soundtrack featuring Michel Legrand and Rufus Wainwright is achingly effective, and Gabriel Yared’s tense score rises up in sudden, bombastic cues that leave one expecting Hitchcock’s portly silhouette to pop up in a farmhouse window. While there are several uncomfortably violent sequences, Dolan wisely focuses on the psychological horror. He knows the dreadful anticipation of what a man like Francis is truly capable of—and how much a man like Tom will allow himself to be subjected to–is more terrifying than any act that can be captured on film. The final result is a hauntingly twisted gem that should push U.S. audiences to explore more of Dolan’s work.
Director: Xavier Dolan
Starring: Xavier Dolan, Pierre-Yves Cardinal, Lise Roy, and Evelyne Brochu
Details: French with English subtitles, 102 minutes, Not rated
Availability: Select U.S. theaters and digital platforms on August 14
