Aftersun [2022]

"I just feel a bit down or something. … I don't know. Don't you ever feel like: you've just done a whole amazing day, and then you come home and feel tired and down, and it feels like your bones don't work? They're just tired, and everything is tired—like you're sinking."

Written & Directed: Charlotte Wells

Composer: Oliver Coates
Cinematographer: Gregory Oke
Editor: Blair McClendon
Production Designer: Billur Turan 
Genre: Drama
MPAA Rating: R, for some language and brief sexual material
Starring: 

    Paul Mescal as Calum

    Frankie Corio as Sophie

An adult Sophie relives the childhood memory of her eleven-year-old birthday trip to tourist trap Turkey with her father Calum Aaron Patterson, also to celebrate his thirtieth-first birthday. At that stage in her life, Sophie's parents were separated, and Calum no longer lived in their hometown of Edinburgh, so this time together was so precious to her. Calum, however, has an entirely different reason to have planned this trip. 

A deeply personal film that I have heard described as subtle, and I get why: the story is very simple, its setting is mundane, there are a hundred little moments that you can easily miss, and the point of the film is never addressed by its characters directly. Except that for me, it hit me like a tidal wave and dragged me into its depths almost immediately. There is a scene about eight minutes in, where we see Calum go onto the balcony of his hotel room. It's nighttime, Sophie is asleep in bed, exhausted from the day of travel, and the only sound we hear is her breathing. Calum lights a discreet cigarette, and begins to dance in the still night air, ninety seconds swaying to the tempo of his own heart. That was the first moment I cried, because I knew then and there what was to come, and I watched with inescapable dread in my heart as it unfolded before me for the next ninety minutes. 

Over three years ago, I was diagnosed with Recurrent Major Depressive Disorder, which came as no real surprise to me since I had been feeling depressed for a good while before then. I bring this up only to say: never before has a piece of art ever spoken to that part of me more than this, and I'm not sure anything else ever will. I have now sobbed over this movie three times, so I feel ready to at least try and explain to you why I love this film so much. 

Soundtrack / Score

There is quite a bit of licensed music in the film, including Macarena and Tubthumping, but these songs are mostly in-universe background noise, invoking a feel for the decade the movie takes place. I found most of these songs to actually aid in the storytelling, considering much of the film centers on memory and a few stupid songs are exactly the sort of thing our brains latch onto.

However, there are a couple of songs I want to give praise to specifically for its placement in the movie: Losing My Religion by REM, and Under Pressure by Queen & David Bowie. I will not elaborate here as to why I love them so much, but will say that I've never seen these songs used better than they are right here. 10/10

A flawless blend of contemporary and classical music sets the perfect tone for the film: the soothing almost hopeful ebb and flow of a cello, pedal point beats from a keyboard, and haunting notes (something like birdsong, laughter, or the trill of insects but recreated with strings) as if distorted by being underwater. You don't need to feel the dread as early as I did, Coates builds it naturally as the film approaches its climax and the structure of the music starts to fall apart—sustained notes swelling into unsustainable & harsh crescendos. 10/10

Cinematography

Since the film is a meditation on the past from adult Sophie, much of the film is captured at odd angles to highlight her limited perspective—long zoomed-in still shots of moments her brain latched onto. Some of this isn't even useful to her recollection, such as shots of parasailers in the sky, construction by the poolside, a trill of insects as she sets clothes out to dry, the way mud swirls in water.  Other moments bring comfort, such as a clear picture of her father's smile, her small hands over his, and how it feels to be held by him. The entire thing is a masterclass on the exploration of the nature of memory. Most of the time, I—like the adult Sophie—wish that I could see a scene just a little bit more clearly. Oke makes it easy to step into Sophie's shoes, and feel the weight of her search for meaning. Beautiful vision, 10/10

Final Thoughts & Overall Rating

Mescal & Corio spent two weeks together getting to know each other and sorta doing loose rehearsals on their scenes, but mostly just hanging out. This familiarity shines brightly in their performances, and it is easy to believe they are a father and daughter who deeply love each other, albeit with a somewhat complicated dynamic due to their separation. 

As the birth of my son grows more and more imminent, the anxiety I feel about my depression and how it will affect him has morphed from something I wished to be mindful of so I can be a better father into something I fear I will curse him with. And if this does follow him like it does me, what sort of answer can I possibly give to questions I have never had the answer to?

Aftersun is introspective, beautiful, uncomfortable, brilliant, and deeply sad. 

10/10, A window into one of the darkest parts of my soul

Beaux Score: 10/10 "Movie that leaves you feeling heavy." 

¡Tierra de Aguafiestas!

(Land of Spoilers)

Rituals & Depression

There's a moment pretty early into the film when Calum is trying to check into their hotel but can't find a receptionist. He goes up the stairs to look for someone, but he stops, realizing Sophie hasn't said anything in a bit, only messing a few romance novels on a nearby table. Before he can even get the words out, Sophie gives a somewhat annoyed "I'm fine", sending him on his way. He is constantly checking in with her during their vacation, asking if she's having fun, if that was a good experience for her, if she's okay. A minute later, that scene I described earlier of him on the balcony plays out with him dancing on to no music. I imagine him performing a ritual of some kind. He mentions at the end of the film that he loves to dance, and judging by the smile on his face in that final scene, I imagine it is one of the few things that genuinely brings him joy. To me, this ritual is a desperate attempt to summon what is left of his spirit into just this one trip. God knows he can't have it every day, but is it too much to ask for these few days, for her sake? But of course he can't. If he could, I'd like to think he wouldn't have made the decision to take his own life in the first place. Inevitably the mask slips, and he lets her down, and no amount of delicate apologies and promises can ever make up for what she's lost, how she'll remember this time, or give her the father she wishes she could talk to. Perhaps I'm projecting, but I get the sense that Sophie suffers from depression just like her father did. In the quote I opened my review with, she asks him if he ever feels the same way, drained down to the bone, that sinking and tired feeling that we know he felt every day of his life. He brushes it off rather than talk to her and maybe helping her to feel less alone, dealing with her feelings the same way he does his own—shoving it down as deep as it can go and masking, spitting with disgust at the man in the mirror, hate for his very soul at the thought that any of this terrible abyss he carries could somehow infect the mind of his child. Suffice to say, that moment really struck me, because it's a fear I share with Calum. I wonder why adult Sophie is choosing to explore these memories now? We learn it's her birthday—her thirty-first, according to the script—and that she has a son. Again, I could very well be projecting, but I get the sense that she wishes she could explore these feelings with her father, because she is going through them too, and often the person we wish to discuss our grief with is the very person we lost.

Insights from the Script

When I really enjoy a movie, I'll usually end up reading the script, and this one gave me some decent insight into the film—specifically Calum's state of mind. One detail in particular that is cut completely from the film is the implication that they were supposed to have explored a lot more of Turkey than they ended up doing, but they missed their tour bus two days in a row. On the first day, Calum got the time difference wrong on his watch, and missed the bus by a single hour. On the second day, he was just a minute too late. Sophie is mostly ignorant of this, which is why it was probably cut, but it does explain why most of the film is spent in and around their hotel, though they do catch the bus on their final full day together to go to those mud baths. Speaking of, on that third day, another cut scene was the cold springs, a stop right before those baths. We would've seen a few grown men in a competition to see who could endure the freezing water the longest, one managing to last a whole two and a half minutes. Sophie decides to give it a try, and doesn't even wait for permission to do so, prompting her dad to give her until she makes it three minutes before quickly shedding her clothes and jumping in. As he wraps a towel around her, beaming with pride, he tells her "You're so much stronger than I am".

Romantic Curiosity & How We Want to be Remembered

Sophie is only eleven, but kids see more than we give them credit for. She spots romance novels in the reception area, she overhears two teens talking about a blowjob in the bathroom, wears her swimsuit out after seeing older girls underwear through their clothes in the pool, tries to apply her own sunscreen after witnessing a boy do it to his partner. I get the sense she understands some of these intellectually & feels other parts that she doesn't quite understand, but tries to cling to her innocence regardless. Even when she meets Michael, the boy her age at the motorcycle arcade, the interaction between them is very innocent. While they play the game, the camera focuses on their arms so closely you can see the hairs as they almost brush up against each other. Later in the film, after an upsetting evening with her dad, she goes off on her own, hanging with some teenagers who are clearly in that stage of their lives. In that rebellious state of mind, after Michael finds her again and invites her to join them, Sophie has her first kiss with him by the poolside. That same night, she also witnesses two men kissing each other with curiosity, as if it's the first time she's considered the idea that same sex couples can exist (maybe even what she wants for herself, considering she ends up with a female partner as an adult). I hesitate to call this a coming of age film, but it does add another layer on their complicated relationship as Sophie moves into her adolescence, putting that much more distance between the two of them. She does tell her father about her first kiss later, and he is very accepting of it, asking only if it was a boy her age. He also wants her to know that no matter what she goes through in life—parties, sex, drugs, etc—that he is someone she can trust. He wants her to remember him as that sort of person, but it fills her with this hope that he will be there for her. One promise amidst several he makes to her, like when he talked about his latest business venture. The girl and the cafe idea didn't work, but this new thing might even bring him closer to home perhaps, if it does work, and she'll get her own room with him—maybe even paint the walls yellow. I know exactly why he does this; he wants to spare her the pain of his departure, he wants her to remember a perfect trip, a perfect dad, as if anything he could say or do can prepare her for a life without him. There's also the scene where he tried to teach her how to "defend" herself in case she is ever grabbed. He is gravely serious, meanwhile she is less so before becoming irritated at being forced into it. Calum knows he won't be around to protect her, and the protection of your family is the quintessential responsibility of a father typically. He has no answers for her when she challenges him by asking what she should do if she's attacked in a different way. I wonder how much he had to confront himself there about the purpose of this trip. Or maybe he just disassociated. Neither the film or the script makes it totally clear he actually intended on committing suicide after this vaccation, and a part of me wants to believe that his depression got the best of him after the fact, but that doesn't take away the sting of all these ultimately empty gestures.

Calum's Poverty & Absence

At one point in the movie he offers to pay for singing lessons for her, which she gets angry at because she knows he doesn't have the money—another promise. His poverty comes up every now and then. You can tell this trip isn't the most fancy thing in the world; the hotel has only one bed, he's worried she'll get the camera wet, the live entertainment with dinner is nothing spectacular. In the script, he also remarks about her schooling & the idea of paying for a private school as well as putting thoughts of university into her head, and she responds with complete silence. The one scene in particular that really resonated with me was those goggles she loses in the sea. She seems genuinely grieved to have lost them and she wants him to know that it really was an accident and that she isn't careless—"I know it was expensive". He does seem bothered, but I get the sense it's not about the goggles, and he reassures her that it's okay and that he's just tired. Later in the film, he spends a lot of money on a very expensive Turkish rug (which we see briefly in the modern day as adult Sophie gets out of bed). I think there is a little bit of shame in fighting for every dollar you have, and your kids having that anxiety on your behalf. I don't know, it was strange to empathize so strongly with both of them at the exact same time.

"I think it's nice that we share the same sky"

There are a few delicate little moments where she tries to express how much she misses having him around, and how it affects her. I loved the scene where she makes light of a misunderstanding she made years ago when her mother was on the phone with her dad, thinking that they had gotten engaged again and how happy it made her. Later, she asks him if he'll ever move back to Edinburgh, and he jokes that there isn't enough sun before more seriously replying:

"That's all in the past for me, that's all. …And there's this feeling, once you leave where you're from, like when you grow up, that um, you don't really belong there again—not really. I never felt like I really belonged there."

Losing My Religion & Other Songs

Tender by Blur gets a feature during their conversation about why he won't ever come back home, another song about a separation. That edit of Under Pressure is such a tearjerking moment, and I don't think I need to go too deeply into the subtext of that. Mostly, I wanted to talk about the karaoke scene. The script gives a little bit more insight into this day, which was a rough one for Calum. He didn't sleep well the night prior—he never seems to sleep well—and woke up in a mood that Sophie couldn't seem to shake him from at breakfast. They missed their tour bus for the second day in a row, Sophie got a bloody nose in that game of water polo with a bunch of grown men (a game she didn't even want to be a part of in the first place), & we see she became a little distant at dinner. It is easy for me to imagine Calum interpreting the failures of the day as personal failures. But despite everything, Sophie honors a tradition for their vacations—a karaoke performance together, but he can't. He's paralyzed with fear that he's going to fuck this up too, that he's the problem and she'd be better off going at it alone. But she's her father's daughter, so she stubbornly struggles through the song without him; the lyrics about the death of the singer's faith in another despite their effort. Shame crosses his face as she stubbornly powers through , but I cannot imagine a world that it's directed at her—though I doubt she understood that at the time. The damage is done, his apology on their last day together is quietly dismissed. I guess he has to hope that these tapes, this trip, his gifts, and his love for her will somehow be enough.