Aftersun
Aftersun is like sand falling through an hourglass. As the time passes, as the sand falls, one side is emptied while the other is filled. And no matter how much you want to stop the sand, you can’t. Eventually, it will stop falling, and the slow, intimate journey will end.
Aftersun was not really on my radar until people had started praising it. And really I think my expectations for the film because of that praise might have diluted my viewing experience. I was expecting an emotional ballad of sorts, something powerful. And while I did get something powerful, it felt more like a guy softly singing an emotional song with his guitar than it did a ballad.
Something that you should know before going into Aftersun, and something I think adds to the charm, is the subtlety of the film. A lot of the movie’s themes, messages, and emotions are not presented at face value. You have to really sit back and live the experience in order to get what the film wants to tell you.
For instance, when watching the movie for what it is, you see the story of a girl reflecting on a vacation she took with her father 20 years ago. But if you soak in all the nuances, you will find that the story is really about a young girl blossoming into a newer stage of life, while a man wilts away from the one he has lived for so long. That concept alone is beautiful but what really makes the film go above and beyond is how raw it is. This is maybe the most stripped back and accurate portrait of a father-daughter, or maybe parent-child, relationship I have seen in film.
Not only is the story and growth presented in this film beautiful, but the visuals are just as gorgeous. With a mixture of both cinematic shots and shaky Camcorder footage, the cinematography, done by Gregory Oke, represents the contrasts of happiness and sadness, and father and daughter that appear in the film. Oke is able to make what may seem like the blandest of events look striking.
And he’s not the only one on his A game. The lead performances are both standout. While the performances from Paul Mescal and Frankie Corio (especially Mescal), may not seem that impressive, their acting is quite subtle. The emotions they have to betray are quiet therefore so is their acting. And you can really feel both the pain from Mescal and the worry from Corio, even if it is not shown on their faces.
Really, there’s just something special about Aftersun, something that I really can’t explain. It’s really something you have to witness yourself. Each moment, whether it be painstaking or patient, immerses you in a melancholy world of beginning and end.
I really am not sure how to articulate my feelings about this picture. It was so powerful in such a peaceful way. I really need more time to let this one sit with me and I’ll probably watch it again. But I did want to get my initial feelings out as soon as I could. I can’t recommend this enough, but I can also not promise that you’ll get depressed enough.
THIS WAS CHARLOTTE WELLES’ DIRECTORIAL DEBUT??? 9