Aftersun

Our relationship to the past is never stagnant, in fact, it’s quite the opposite. Subjectivity throughout different stages of our lives almost enforces deep reflection, and rapid changes in perspective grant the deceptive gift of hindsight. Humanity remembers the past through memory, and despite its unrivalled beauty, memory can be extremely painful when retrospection works against it. Sometimes, the most painful thing about memory is the inability to identify its significance during that moment, so we inescapably undervalue moments as inconsequential; undoubtably due to humanities vulgar tendency to be ignorant. In Charlotte Wells’ directional debut ‘Aftersun’, the link between the past, memory and reflection is blurred, encompassing the audience with a non-linear showcase of a father and daughter during a summer vacation; demonstrating the fluidity of memory. The thematic sophistication of director Wells’ directional debut questions our relationship to memory, yet it also relies on the relationship between parent and child, highlighting how these relationships can be beautiful and loving, yet lack a sense of intimacy with identity. It is often stated that children are the most naive to their parents true nature, and part of maturing is learning the inherent flaws and weaknesses mothers and fathers have despite the rose-tinted, whimsical illusion that parenthood is the path to ultimate righteousness and intelligence. The inevitable realisation can often lead to a deeper familial connection, yet for some, it just means more questions for curiosity to conjure in the wake of enlightenment. Wells portrays this beautifully with stylistically delightful imperfections within camcorder footage, emulating the idea that time can fracture memories and corrode a sense of timelessness. A deceptively simple idea builds into a nuanced powerhouse of indie filmmaking; this subsequently shapes ‘Aftersun’ into a poetic reflection of human relationships. Both lead performances by Paul Mescal and newcomer Frankie Corio are masterful, beautifully depicting father and daughter with rawness and a sense of foreboding tension. Corio mixes elements of fiery precociousness with playful child-like whimsicality to deliver a performance that is at times mysterious, but always luminous. Mescal, however, is more subtle in his approach. His performance presents the twisted contrast between optimism and suffering; his idealistic nature towards his daughter feels like paternal love, yet abstractions in his character gives Mescal the opportunity to delve into deeper places of emotional turmoil. Frankie Corio and Paul Mescal play Calum and Sophie with paradoxical energy, that mirrors the internal journeys of each character. Calum hides himself from Sophie to protect her childlike innocence. Yet Sophie is also embarking on her own coming-of-age odyssey through her mostly innocent activities as a voyeur of teenagers at the resort, subsequently losing that innocence in the process. These sharp, almost ironic contrasts fill ‘Aftersun’ with interpretational bliss, with motifs of water and the blue sky meaning very different things for two very connected characters. ‘Aftersun’ could be frustratingly tenuous for some audiences, yet its allusive detail blended with sophisticated depictions of thematic elements solidify’s this film as my personal favourite of 2022. I can’t wait to see what Charlotte Wells does next.