Aftersun

Structured enough to keep the viewer fully invested in the modicum of linear plot, vague enough so as not to lead any given viewer to a singular conclusion and instead insert their own emotional narratives overtop the film. Rather, it requires you through its haphazard reconstitution of the memories of a Turkish vacation between a young father and daughter to disengage from your own alienated and passive viewing experiences and demands your own memories to emerge in filling the gaps. That sort of ambiguous and open-ended structure can be polarizing and off-putting. It’s understandable. I entered it a little cynically and didn’t relent until at least halfway through. But even naysayers are likely to relish in the gorgeous cinematography and appreciate the recall of their own experiences as children. The ensuing result of Aftersun’s juxtaposition between the cloudy recollections of father-daughter bonds and the illumination of the literal Turkish aftersun itself is an emotionally destructive and cathartic collectively driven powerhouse. We do not process the repression and pain of our fathers (or mothers) as children. When it’s too late, we can only leap to assumptions with little to assuage the cyclical trauma of unanswered inquiries. The day your parents are just as fragile and broken as you are and no longer your heroes in any context…no matter how you’ve experienced childhood— is a difficult day. Every memory is recalled: neglectful, terrorizing, affectionate, loving, supportive, angry, blissful, confusing, or otherwise. Aftersun posits a mental call to action for its observers to relive the beauty of those complex memories, searching for answers we can frantically grasp at but know we’ll never completely have.