AMANDA (2020) FILM REVIEW

**

15, 107 Mins

Cutesy familial bonding and Islamic terrorism don't gel.

Believe it or not, despite my love of all things dark and gothic, I'm actually a softie for schmaltz. There's nothing wrong with the odd dapple of syrupy sunshine, Sigur Ros songs getting the tears trickling or mushy moments of wayward rogues realising their true calling due to a sweet child's voice.

The problem is when these mushy moments soften and sentimentalize real-world woes. It's what made me feel sickly sweetened during 'Marriage Story's otherwise bitter commentary upon the psychological impact of divorce, but, believe me, any of that film's indulgence in father-son treacle is nothing compared with the gooeyness that turns this tale of terror attack bereavement into a nutmeg and honeyed spoonful of mum's apple pie cinema.

It centres around an aimless 20 year old Parisian (Vincent Lacoste) who is forced to question everything he ever stood for when his sister (Ophelia Kolb) is killed in the 2015 Paris terror attack. And yet this is a film oddly shy of exploring the traumatic toll such an atrocity has upon the victim's family. Instead it chooses to spend time watching Wimbledon games and playing in children's parks as if the world of the central character's motherless neice - the titular Amanda (Isaure Multrier) - is all poppies and roses.

Call me a cynic, but I was greatly reminded of Marc Webb's 'Gifted' (2017) - another slice of syruped child prodigy bonding that failed to scratch the surface of its young star's psyche beyond manipulative tear-jerking. The chemistry between Lacoste and Multrier is unquestionably lovely, but that's not enough to balance out the necessary grit treatments of terror attacks need to function successfully and sensitively.

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