12/12 ForReel Score | 5/5

“That's me in the corner. That's me in the spot-light. Losing my religion. Trying to keep up with you. And I don't know if I can do it. Oh no I've said too much. I haven't said enough.” These are the lyrics that young Sophie sings at karaoke while her father sits in the crowd, lost in a dark void of depression. This scene most blatantly encapsulates the themes of writer/director Charlotte Wells feature film debut Aftersun. The film recounts a final family holiday, and much like the polaroids or old camcorder footage, Sophie’s memories can only capture a fraction of reality. There’s a struggle to leave behind a pivotal time in her life, especially with so much on the horizon. But later, newfound truths about her father add a weight of emotion that is difficult to shake, yet must be released in order to move forward.

As Sophie approaches her early 30s, she reflects on memories of her father during a similar period of his life. As a result, she recalls a Turkish vacation she took in the late 90s. Newcomer Frankie Corio portrays the explorative 11-year-old, and in his first feature film leading role, Paul Mescal (The Lost Daughter) plays her father, Calum. Through reliving that week at the rundown hotel, Sophie gains a greater understanding of who her father was beyond his role as a parent.

On the edge of 31, Calum can’t afford to give Sophie what she wants and seems to be mourning the loss of his own youth. As he observes other parents spoiling their children at the resort, struggling with the fact that he is unable to do the same. At the time, Sophie only catches glimpses of that. She sees a man who is always trying his best, never taking life too seriously, always performing funny dance moves or taking the time to practice Thai Chi. Knowing he can’t offer Sophie anything of material value, Calum focuses on how to feed her soul. Despite his attempts to teach Sophie how to defend herself, physically and emotionally, she pulls away. The only thing she wants is for him to be there, but for Calum, that is not enough.

Much of the film lies in confusion. In the beginning, I found it difficult to distinguish what was going on and what Wells was trying to convey. But when it clicked, it was like being caught in a tidal wave. Intense emotions crashed into me and I was left gasping for breath as I was brought back to feelings of pain and sorrow surrounding my own relationship with my father. Aftersun succeeds at being an emotionally moving feature, especially how intentional it is about restraint in its storytelling. It does not include any dramatic elements, nor is there any explicit expression; all is meant to be inferred and dissected, allowing us as an audience to lend our own lived experiences to fill in the blanks.

frankie corio and paul mescal aftersun production still

Being void of dramatic beats means the film instead puts much of its focus on this emotional component, particularly the happiness Calum and Sophie share together. However, as the film progresses, the melancholic undertones gradually overcome their joy. Mescal masterfully displays the depth of sorrow that can creep into one's person's life. The frustration Calum holds for himself is so palpable. He never quite presents himself in the manner that one would expect a father figure to, even when he is mistaken as an older brother. His performance is so effortless, largely due to his rapport with Corio. Their relationship is deeply sincere in the most subtle of ways that leave you completely enamored.

Corio is astonishing in the film. She physically expresses these soulful emotions so naturally as if she’s not acting at all. As she gazes at other teenagers at the resort, you can almost read her every thought. She curiously watches, deciding if this is a future she can see for herself. The expression on her face reflects every last emotion, which I find so interesting in comparison with the few scenes of Sophie as an adult, played by Celia Rowlson-Hall (Vox Lux). She’s hidden in darkness or distorted in a reflection. It’s hard to get a good look at her. Maybe it’s Wells' way of letting the audience decide what to feel, because if the audience could read adult Sophie’s expression, they’d crumble.

Intermixing MiniDV footage throughout the film gives it a distinct sense of the 90s as well as providing the best visual representation of what it means to capture a memory on film. Sophie has this footage to tell her the story of that holiday, but it also leaves so much room for her interpretation. Throughout the film, cinematographer Gregory Oke (Laps) conveys a compelling outsider perspective, while at the same time keeping the audience in the foreground. Deep conversations are witnessed through a reflection or great distance. The times we need to be closest with our characters, we’re denied it. One of the most striking elements of the film is Oke's process of filming the nightclub scenes. Backed by Queen and David Bowie’s Under Pressure, the scene acts as a primal scream, a release of pain.

Aftersun is like a slow peeling sunburn, essentially an anti-narrative in which nothing much happens, but gently over time a great deal is discovered. Sophie and Calum’s relationship is one of the most tender and deeply painful to ever be depicted on screen this year. Wells has a profound understanding of how impactful the pre pubescent years have on one’s development. It’s an honor to see a filmmaker be so vulnerable and open with a story that is so personal to themselves. By laying herself bare she is able to connect with the audience on the most basic human level. Aftersun brought me to my knees.

SSFF 2022 | MOVIE REVIEW: "Aftersun" Is A Poignant Discovery of Memory