A meandering story, one that goes off on tangents here and there, would normally make for a bad film. Except here. As viewers, it’s William Bloom that we relate to most. We want to know what’s real and what’s not. We want things to make sense, to be told straight through. But stories like that, as his father says at one point, “won’t be complicated, but won’t be interesting either.”

At some point in the story, it no longer matters what’s real and what isn’t. After all, isn’t the truth just another story? It’s the stories that connect us. I remember watching this when I was younger, and not understanding the ending. Rewatching it now that I’m older, as a father myself, I get it. It doesn’t matter what’s being said, but that the bond is made by saying it. After being estranged for so long, that the last part of story is told by William, is cathartic. A bond made.