'Aftersun' Review: One Of The Best—and Most Affecting—movies Of The Year
Inside, a semi-outside man stands on the porch in front of a small television, bathed in sunlight, faintly bathed in video footage. Behind his left shoulder, he reappeared like a ghost reflected in a glass door. And the video camera he had put on the TV appeared a third time as it went off, reflecting in the dark mirror of the screen. Is the imperfect representation of how we imagine the people we once knew, the imperfect memories they struggle with, no matter how slow the camera zooms in on them? One of the fascinating aspects of the film is that they see the past as a house of mirrors that captures dreams from every angle.
That man is Calum (Paul Mescal of Normal People ), a 32-year-old hitman, handsome in a swing, handsome in plaster, with plaster hands and a big smile that can't hide his sadness from eating more than his joy. Filming her behind the camera is her 11-year-old daughter Sophie (newcomer Frankie Carriot), who, though frail, is on a similarly dramatic beat. He was young enough, he was mature enough, and the two were ridiculously close—in the way they communicated so easily and honestly—that it was close to being mistaken for brothers.
It was the late 90s and the two were on holiday from Edinburgh, where Sophie lived with her mother, to a Turkish seaside resort. Club Med #: There was only one bed in the room (a mistake the hotel politely corrected) and the builders were having fun banging on the wall while looking at the property. Over the next few days, lazy poolside lounges, casual dining at one of the local restaurants, and late-night viewing and karaoke, will have their share of challenges. Still, it's an effervescent, unforgettable experience, remembered to the point of personal legend.
From the beginning, Aftersun was known to be in the past. The film's first shot of a conversation between father and daughter suddenly freezes when someone pauses and replays the footage, accelerating what we see later from a more "neutral", omniscient perspective. It's a memory, so who? They could be the novel of writer-director Charlotte Wells. It doesn't shy away from the autobiographical tendencies of the first film, making it a true downer. But if this is a childhood version, it dramatizes it with emotion and restraint, collecting moments like photos in a shoebox. Unlike Steven Spielberg or James Grey, he is not burdened with the need to connect the events described with a larger career.
Focus on the little things. This is not a wild awakening story; The most exciting thing that happened to Sophie during the trip was a quick kiss from the cute boy down the hall. (As a teenager, he was interested in older boys, but the hormonal pressure around them had yet to catch up with him.) Wells often made the list. The hotel staff performs the macarena; In the evening, he talks about adulthood with his father - he always admired the young hero. Too young to parasail, Sophie still remembers the kites dotting the sky above the resort like leaves floating on the reflection of a pond - one of many strange images that evoke the same spirit in Lynn Ramsey's memory pieces. . (Actually, a heavy Scottish accent compares well.)
Aftersun is almost the definition of a "small" film , but it sneaks up on you. As the story progresses, the increasingly flashback setting brings everything with a strong grimness and even fatality. Our brains do this by reinterpreting sometimes seemingly small events in hindsight. Although Wells is vague, there is evidence that Calum was divorced, struggling with money and suffering from depression. I wonder how this relates to the subject of watching a film. Was the scene of him crying alone in the hotel room, far from Sophie's eyes and ears, a hypothetical revelation to fill the void the journey had created in his mind? Is the Calem we have here actually a version of the father remembered by his knowledge (as suggested) of the tragedy that awaits them both?
Once upon a time, that happy beach vacation seemed like a father's attempt to create fond memories for his daughter — perhaps fond memories of her. Aftersun 's complex beauty is about fulfilling a dream, showing how the future can pollute the past and new experiences and insights become lenses for understanding a person or a time. The film's strengths are cumulative; It finally ends with an emotional pop crescendo and then delivers a truly haunting finale. In the end, truth emerges as a reflection: memories eventually become illusions designed to haunt us in the same place we all occupy.
Aftersun is showing in select theaters now .
