In the end, LE GRAND VOYAGE is a father and son story plain and simple. It starts out feeling as though it is going to offer us so much more. The world of French (Muslim) Arabs is never really fleshed out. The conflict between older generation Muslims and their younger, more modern offspring is never tapped into. Each viewer will have to judge whether the remaining virtues of this tasteful yet schizophrenic film are enough.
One byproduct of having an inquisitive mind and living in a turbulent world is that one wonders if a film like this might have something larger to say. This is the tale of an Arab son in France who lives with his devoutly religious (Muslim) father. Dad wants to make a pilgrammage to Mecca. The son becomes an unwitting participant and they drive together in a beat up old station wagon through multiple European countries of widely varying topography. In terms of a road trip movie, the scenic side is covered. But those lingering socio-political questions remain simply because the concept of the film is so ripe with possibility. What is it like to be a Muslim Arab living in France? How are the younger generations forging their own identities seperate from those of their Muslim elders? We never find out. In this movie kids are simply kids. And although I was frustrated that this movie never broke out and had anything to say, I did find myself caught of in the more than believable realtionship between father and son and I wanted to follow it to the end.
This film does mix tones and styles. There are dream sequences that stick out terribly, and they are blended with moments of near documentary coverage of the people father and son meet along the way. The best times of all are the simple quiet moments of narrative without much dialogue or exposition. There is also a moment when a seemingly friendly stranger turns out to be something more dangerous (this part of the journey reminded me of the excursion to the U.S. in Kazaan's "America America").
Director Ismael Ferroukhi has a patient hand and a flavor for realism but the blend of styles is a distraction. This film achieves a quiet observational zen at times but there are maudlin moments as well. Most of these pass quickly. One scene does flow into another with assurance. The subject matter is interesing although few truths are revealed. Somewhere this film got stuck between shooting for realism and wanting to say something about the generation gap and possibly religion as well. Ultimately its most assured pleasures can be found in showing the quiet differential between the behavior of a father and his son. If we recognize ourselves in these moments (which I did) then the film has done something that isn't easy to do. The lead actors (Nicolas Cazale, as Reda, and Mohammed Majd, as the father) do a fine job with their parts and when the director sticks to the father/son story (without becoming didactic) you can imagine yourself stranded in that old beat up car with your own dad in the snow. Or feel that you are trapped with him in some godforsaken hotel room when all you want to do is go out and find somebody to have sex with. This is the truth of what real father and son relationships are all about - the uneventful and uncomfortable silences, miscommunications, blow ups, and eventual reconciliations...at least for as long as your father is with you on this Earth.