A lovely and heart-breaking story about the intentional silence and unspoken truths, Ceres explores the well of love present when you can’t (or aren’t able to) talk about the problems in life between mother and daughter.
Hannah Morriah stars as the daughter, who is seeking refuge from her emotionally abusive partner. When her estranged mother (Juliet Stevenson) arrives, the pair attempt to reconnect without actually discussing what is happening. All the while, living in the knowledge their time together is bound to be short-lived.
The title, Ceres, comes from the Greek goddess whose counterpart had to watch as her daughter was forced to spend half of the year as the queen of the underworld. This follows a similar trajectory as the mother must sit idly by with little recourse to save her daughter from her partner and herself. But, that doesn’t mean this is a film of struggle and inevitable sadness. There are levels of hope and quiet grace filled in ever scene.
Stevenson and Morriah allow each other to play off the quiet emotions instead of taking charge and taking over any particular scene. They might have parts where their character is in the forefront, but they constantly exist in this delicate ballet. Even the silence speaks volume, particularly of a scene where the pair are working in the garden before the daughter sits back and stares at the sky. The mother lays next to her and holds her hand, only for the daughter to pull away, but look to her mother anyway.
Scenes like this tell years of backstory without actually needing to describe it. You can tell both women are emotionally damaged, probably from years of abuse, but can’t help but bond over the pain and distance. Even in the film’s waning moments, when the partner returns, you hope for some level of catharsis, only to be delivered the reality of what these women have put up with. Not only does this abuse have a real and lasting impact, it shows how impossible it is to leave.
An exceptionally subtle, quiet, beautiful, and heart-breaking piece.