Aftersun

The one thing you can say about the film Aftersun is that it's not afraid of subtlety. It's human realism at its core dealing with themes such as childhood, fatherhood, responsibility, class, and vulnerability. It's the opposite of dramatic yet it keeps you engaged and glued to the screen through out as you care about the characters despite the simplicity of their day to day interactions. Paul Mescal plays Callum, a young father to an 11 year-old somewhat precocious girl named Sophie. The film in my opinion is about a father who tries his best to maintain a rock like mask to convey strength and stability for his daughter while being emotionally vulnerable underneath. Occasionally throughout the film that mask slips a little bit as Callum struggles to bear the responsibility of being a dad at such a young age and while facing his own personal troubles. At the same time his daughter, getting older and wiser, starts to explore the world of adolescence while on holiday where she also begins to notice her father's vulnerabilities. It's a sensitive film and one that leaves you enthralled and attached to the characters on a deeply human level even if that dramatic colonel doesn't pop the way you might except.

Aftersun is a film that I wasn't sure I understood when the credits started rolling. Then, as I sat and thought about everything I had seen, I came to believe more and more that it's kind of genius.

What the movie lacks in overt substantive plot it more than makes up for in authenticity and subtle placement of character-building images and dialogue. In the moment, these often feel like tangents and the overall picture isn't clear.

While it can make for a frustrating first viewing, the clarity that comes with the film's final shot suddenly puts everything into perspective and I felt an overwhelming flood of emotion for the two central characters.

Suffering happen more often than not in silence, and it's the cumulative of this film's many quiet moments that drive home one of the most effective, nuanced messages of compassion that I've seen all year.

This is a masterpiece of subtlety, arguably slightly to a fault, but it's refreshing to see it in the age of "hammer over the head" messaging in movies that we're currently living in.

After watching this beautiful film and coming across a little note from the amazing storyteller Charlotte Wells:

(I cannot share URL apparently so please search "A note from Charlotte Wells from the site of A24.")

This was the word that broke me down. Hasret.

I just couldn't resist my tears. As a Turkish person, its just both amazing and heartbreaking from the point of view of the director that this word resonates with her feelings from a place she had this holiday with her late father. That it stuck with her...

Even though it is not the same case at all, I remember the times as a kid I closed the door on my dad because he would come home late from work. That because he would promise me to come home early.

Now, today I can't even imagine how saddening it was for him at those times and it wasn't even at his hands.

Hopefully I will be able to share my love and gratitude my parents as Charlotte did here with such elegance through some way. Since, it's not easy to recapture feeling this instant or in any...

Thank you for this film all in all, it surely made me reconsider a lot recently...

A moving film about a girl reminiscing on a holiday to Turkey taken with her estranged father 20 years prior. The use of music is terrific, the two central performances are very touchingly delivered (Paul Mescal and the young Frankie Corio). It is one of the films of 2022. The fact this is Charlotte Wells' debut feature is nothing more than astonishing. She delivers massive assurance and confidence in direction, which pushes the narrative forward very tenderly as the girl (Sophie) tries to reconcile her relationship with her father Callum in two separate timelines.

Along the way we are given snippets of her father's troubles. Wells' very cleverly weaves in a subtext that works to a crescendo in the last 10 minutes which includes one of the most brilliant transition shots in recent cinema (not hyperbole, it really is brilliant). The viewer is invited to join the dots on what has happened between the two timelines and there are several clues that help.

Wells' debut has a familiarity with the work of fellow Scottish director Lynne Ramsay, and in particular her film 'Morvern Callar'. This feels lie the birth of another great director.

This film crept up on me. I was worried it was a gimmicky art film (plus at the beginning the dialogue was hard to decipher) but as the film went on I was swept up in it - purely down to Paul Mescal's and Francesca Corio's performances. Achingly beautiful. I was crying without realising and also on the tube home - the tears just kept coming but it was nothing to do with me.

Alison Willmore from Vulture at New York Magazine perfectly articulated what I felt :' It's about wanting to reach across time, and to meet a loved one in an impossible space where, for once, you're both on the same level, and you can finally understand them for who they are - or who they were.'