Aftersun - 2022
Updated: Jul 2, 2023
This review may contain spoilers.
"Oh no," you say. "Tell me this isn't another 'memory is a faulty camera' picture."
Well, it is.
Then again it's the kind of exploration of memory the likes of which I've never seen before. There are really two (at least) readings of this film, which I feel exist in an eternal tension. Indeed, they tug and pull at us as we, like the leading lady Sophie, stumble around and hunt for clues, details, or even the faintest hints of meaning.
The ungenerous scrutiny of this picture sees it as a slow burn, bittersweet affair in which, let's face it, not a whole heck of a lot ever happens. Still, it is clear that it's a work of art which cuts across neat genre boxes and categorization. A film which is one part vacation movie, a healthy sprinkling of poignantly awkward coming-of-age moments for a preteen in her burgeoning adolescence, a dash of father-daughter heartstring pulling, and, in some emphatic instances, a genuine mystery. Aftersun is an exploration of that wafer-thin boundary between memories tactile (a Turkish rug, for instance) and ethereal and the gaps our imagination fills in to complete the picture.
This is to say that from the lofty heights of its thematic conception down to the brass tacks of execution in cinematography, lighting, shot staging and retroactive camcorder footage, Aftersun is stunningly artistic. What is not on hand, however, is a propulsive plot. In fact, much of the movie's runtime is spent watching these two, who obviously share a genuine connection and affection despite the layers of secrecy between them, lounge around, take a dip in the resort pool, or go scuba diving in the sea nearby. In other words, if small, intricate flourishes, shots posed with such minutiae as to almost be photographs, is not your "thing," then you'll want to run far from this picture.
In truth, one could accuse lovers of the film of being those who mistake style for substance. But I have to say, this time around, getting "lost in the sauce" is a truly delectable experience. From the outset, the film captures this experience in Turkey in such bright tones. Many shots are almost washed out with light. This aesthetic gives the whole excursion an air of memory.
My very favorite thing that first time director Charlotte Wells and cinematographer Gregory Oke did was this practice of capturing images within other images. At one point it is the reflection of a blank TV screen depicting the father (Calum) wrestling with his own demons as his daughter attempts to wrest from him a kind of off-the-cuff interview. At another, a reflection of one image in the glass on a table. The picture is chock full of period details tracing back to a specific moment in the 90's when this fictional trip may have occurred. But the entire effect is to create a reverie of a distinct moment in time which is nonetheless diaphanous.
Moving into spoilers, the enigma at the heart of Aftersun is what haunts Sophie's father, Calum. Here, Wells provides us with but a few clues of past neglect and signs of parental abuse. But the film's reveals are never overwrought. In fact, they are largely just the opposite, like passing through a cloud without comprehending its true form. See, in my reading, THIS is precisely why the film is never inert, despite its slow meditations. Charlotte Wells wisely chooses to capture the heartache of losing someone and trying to recall their past form as a series of impressions. Details which come together to form a picture of a man, but one who never "shows his cards." Everything with Calum is either out of focus or out of frame because these are the ruminations of an 11 year old mind. So, we continue to sift for meaning amidst the rubble left behind.
To briefly mention the principals, I am quickly becoming the head of the Paul Mescal fan club. Drawn into his orbit by his powerful work in Normal People I now bear witness to his ability to capture affection and misery together with remarkable subtlety. Calum's struggles are almost all internal, and thus require such a composed but oft-kilter delivery. Mescal completely nails it here.
Fortunately, his scene partner is up for every bit of the same challenge. Frankie Corio, in her first film role, has depicted something captivating in its own right, namely a preteen in that awkward moment where youth and devotion to parents is being infringed upon by desire, peer groups, and the unknowns of waiting adulthood. Again, these are just little quiet instances and episodes for Sophie's character, but they are punctiliously drawn and always empathetic.
We should say that some of these scenes between father and daughter are also fantastic on their own merits. The film features several needle drops which color the portrait we are receiving. The first is a karaoke version of R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion" (speaking of 90's moments), which shows us Sophie's guts while also depicting some of the things that may haunt Calum just under the surface. Then there is Mercury and Bowie, providing the soundtrack to that final dance outside the bar.
Yes, the ending of this film is where Aftersun really earns its salt. This is because it is only in reflecting back on these details and experiences, in the act of recontextualizing the memories with her own newfound parenthood in the present that deeper revelations unfold. Here again, Wells never offers us crystal clear images. Instead, it is these haunting yet mysterious interstitials of what appears to be a 30-ish female moving towards a male of about the same age in a dance club amidst strobing lights. This then leads to one of the more powerful concluding shots in recent memory. A real "full circle" moment that, like all that has gone before, leaves us with about as many queries as it does answers.
But what we are really left with is a kind of universal experience for adults: the poignantly wistful riddle of just who our parents were when we were young. Towards that end, Charlotte Wells has created a staggeringly gorgeous, always patient movie, full of pixelated home camera footage and plaintive reflection about the hidden life of adults. One which only reaches full disclosure long after the fact, in the realm where memory and soulful longing meet.
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