In "Les Invasions barbares (Barbarian Invasions)," a dying father pulls his grown-up son to his chest and says, "When you have a son, make sure he turns out just like you." For the son, these words bring a sense of closure and something changes in his expression. He is liberated. For the first time in his life, he feels a love for his father that's unencumbered by bad family history and resentment. And he's compelled to tell his father quite simply, "I love you."
The difference between this and thousands of other deathbed scenes is the sincerity of the story that led up to it. Father and son had not spoken in years and extreme illness was what finally got them in the same room. But there, gradually, they begin to view and then to value each other, as individuals. The process is like the slow blossoming of a desert rose and even though the whole scene is defined by the father's imminent death, the moment comes off as an ultimate celebration of life.
"Invasions barbares" has been described as a story of dying and euthanasia, but it's more about valuing the demands of the mind as well as the body, in the final days of life. This is much more difficult than it sounds, as the film shows us in bleak sketches how the average medical institution is equipped to repair bodies, but not to listen to or recognize their needs. (While watching this, you can't help but believe there is such a thing as death by hospitalization.)
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