In the wide gamut of human experience, there is probably nothing so devastating as to lose a child. And if that child had disappeared a decade prior to his eight-year-old body being found following the confession of a pedophile to his murder? It's an incomprehensible level of pain, one that no one would wish on a living soul. But it's pain summoned by Francois Delisle's "Chorus," which unblinkingly, in austere and beautiful black-and-white imagery, examines this precise situation from the point of view of the emotionally shattered parents. With its considered pace, and some extraordinary performances that never feel less than utterly authentic to whichever extended moment is being picked apart in magnified detail, it's a film that feels entirely, envelopingly truthful. And therefore it feels absolutely terrible.
Opening with the aforementioned confession, the film could, at the outset, be a more procedural or mystery-based story. An inmate unburdens himself to a...
