There was an air of anticipation when I arrived at Watershed for the advanced screening of Aftersun. Many of the attendees had seen the rave reviews pour in from the London Film Festival; headlines touted a landmark directorial debut showcasing masterful acting. Upon exiting the cinema, anticipation transformed into hesitancy in trying to fully process such a unique experience. At face value, we had all just sat through an hour-thirty of Paul Mescal and Frankie Corio on holiday in Turkey. From lounging poolside to scuba diving, the sunny sights excellently shot by cinematographer Gregory Oke contrasted starkly against my grey cycle home. Some would be envious but, when considering the all-inclusive experience of cringy entertainment and disruptive building work also on display, I was reminded why I no longer travel away with my parents.
Prior to the film, I had been logging scores on my newly-created Letterboxd account – the latest obsession to exacerbate a crippling social media addiction. This task further exhibited my penchant for heavily story-driven pieces, which Aftersun is not. In fact, much of the movie’s true narrative occurs before and after the characters’ trip abroad; we are only truly present for the space in-between. Forgoing reliance on plot points creates a slower meditative pace, allowing the audience time to bask in pockets of 90s nostalgia such as motorbike racing arcade games – Spider Stompin’ is my personal favourite.
However, similar to Mescal’s character Calum, I have a frequent urge to be doing something after elongated periods of peaceful nothingness. These moments are when context clues alluding to the father-daughter duo pop up, forming pieces of the puzzle portraying their world outside this isolated window. The camera drifts inexplicably far off the subject before refocusing on an item they’ve packed, or lingers on a shot just long enough to capture the mask slipping. Even just showing both of their expressions when communicating between a partition adds blink-and-you’ll-miss-it nuances. Once I realised Aftersun’s true story is told in those half-spaces, it began to flood through along with my appreciation for director Charlotte Wells.
For this type of avant-garde storytelling to work requires heavy lifting from the cast, but Mescal and Corio take it in their stride. Sophie is on the precipice of adolescence but behaves like a grown-up; she is yearning towards independence and intimacy embodied by the young adults sharing the hotel. On the other hand, Calum has reached adulthood too fast, the pressure of being a single father and forging a career overwhelming. Balancing these responsibilities alongside rediscovering lost youth, the holiday acts as both protagonists’ coming of age story, mirroring each other from different points in time.
It wasn’t until later that evening, when trying to wind down after life administration, that I fully understood what had been haunting me since watching the film. The poetic symmetry of themes is matched by excellent, thought-provoking dialogue covering existential concepts in which Sophie is given space to express herself freely. Calum listens empathetically, but his guardian role necessitates keeping a lid on his truest emotions that are already boiling over. Keeping strong in front of your daughter, who’s questioning why it feels like her organs don’t work and she’s sinking after an amazing day, when you’re drowning in depression must be unbearable.
And then I wondered: well, how many times must my parents have shared this same feeling? In a world struggling to process its feelings, what was their response to questions they couldn’t answer or had to keep hidden for my own protection? Those off-hand comments about no longer wanting to travel with them pales in comparison against the immeasurable strength it must have taken to actually travel with me. Am I still the child refusing to go on long walks so I can play games in the caravan, and how long do they have left before I decide to actually grow up? Thus, the melancholic excellence of Aftersun: a landmark directorial debut showcasing masterful acting.