After snitching on one of his superiors in the mafia, Giovanni Manzoni (Robert De Niro), a certifiable sadist and budding memoir writer, finds himself on the run with his family, which consists of his equally crazy wife (Michelle Pfeiffer) and two devious children (Dianna Agron and John D'Leo). The family can't keep its violent tendencies to itself and is relocated to Normandy by the beleaguered case officer (Tommy Lee Jones), where they try their "best" to stay incognito from the hitmen who want them dead.
Much of the humor from "The Family" comes from putting four angry Brooklynites in a quiet French town and watching them wreck mayhem on a conservative, American-suspicious populace by doing things their own way. While the film builds up to its explosive climax, it follows the four family members through their own arcs, and the best one by far is Manzoni's attempt to find out why the water in his house is polluted, which culminates in him blowing up a fertilizer factory tank in true mob boss fashion.
Sound ridiculous? In a way, "The Family" seems to acknowledge its mob-movie heritage, particularly in casting De Niro. De Niro has his place secured as one of the best American actors, so he can afford to mess around and poke fun at his legacy. Most of this reputation comes from his career-defining roles as mob thugs, and in the most meta-movie reference since Julia Roberts masqueraded as herself in "Ocean's Twelve" (2004), there is a scene in "The Family" in which Manzoni watches "Goodfellas" (1990), considered by many to be one of the best mob movies ever, inferior only to perhaps "The Godfather" (1972) and "The Godfather Part II" (1974).
Yet its irreverent tone gives "The Family" too much confidence, and it messes it all up when it comes to a key point of the story: the violence. The Manzonis are shown to be doers of sorts who achieve their ends through treachery, deceit and, when those fail, violence. But there is a disconnect between the tone of the film and the level of violence it portrays on screen.
I personally have no problem with violence in film, as long as it is used in a way that complements the work and gives it some sort of artistic significance. For example, on my way back to campus, I watched Nicolas Winding Refn's "Only God Forgives" (2013), a brutally violent movie with numerous shootings, beatings and random acts of violence committed with a sword. And contrary to the glares of the girl sitting next to me, the violence was not exploitative, but rather, a way to further the story and give a glimpse into the world in which the characters.
But in "The Family", I found myself questioning the level and brutality of the violence being utilized for the first time in a long while. I believe the film meant to position itself as a comedy first and foremost, and as such, it is jarring to watch Agron's character beat a creepy French guy mercilessly with a tennis racket, or watch Manzoni drag a man chained to the back of his car until he is horribly bruised and bloodied. As such, the dramatic effect of the film's climax is reduced by this discordant and out-of-place violence. Rather than being something in the vein of Buster Keaton's slapstick, the violence comes off as something ripped from the first draft of a Quentin Tarantino screenplay.
Should we blame Besson? I'm not sure. On one hand, you feel awkward about laughing at the film's other intentional funny scenes after witnessing the violence, but on the other, Besson's body of work seems to suggest he deserves the benefit of the doubt. Early in "The Professional", the young Mathilda (Natalie Portman) arrives at home to find her family brutally massacred. It's a powerful scene showing the aftermath of horrific violence, but it is done in a way that is beneficial to the film. And while Besson has carried that sensibility to "The Family", it may have been for the best if he had handled it with a lighter touch.
