Charlotte Wells' feature-length debut is a serene drama, luminous in tone and free of toxicity, but its depths are emotionally powerful. 


tony malik

Jan 4, 2023, 20.45



Aftersun, a colorful and empathetic coming-of-age drama, —and a film I personally consider the antithesis of Taken— astonished critics, especially in independent and arthouse quarters, as 2022 drew to a close. It's universal acclaim may surprise viewers accustomed to more intense features à la  12 Years A Slave, or Requiem For A Dream, but make no mistake, Aftersun is as confident in itself as any major production, and under Charlotte Wells' direction, the storytelling is sharp and concise. 

We begin from the end, although we don't know it. The camera whirs, rewinding footage until we join Calum (Paul Mescal) and his daughter, Sophie (Frankie Corio), in Turkey for the holidays. There's an apparent awkwardness between father and daughter, as they struggle with the process of booking a hotel room and settling in. Details, one would imagine, a mother's organizational instinct would have sorted out. This is accounted for when a short dialogue reveals that Sophie's parents are divorced — even though, and to Sophie's surprise, they still say "I love you" to each other on the phone. 



Calum is a loving, idealistic father, but underneath his calm exterior, troubling demons lurk. His troubles are only hinted at; self-loathing, emotional and financial difficulties perhaps. His affection for his daughter is undeniable, but I could notice signs of general detachment, which he tried to hide from Sophie by keeping up a façade of contentment during their holiday. To battle his feelings of self-hatred and depression, he tries to immerse himself in Tai-Chi and self-help books. 


Sophie, on the other hand, is a bright and perceptive 11-year old who senses the distance between herself and her father. She's also dealing with growing up around older, sexually active teenagers on a "finding themselves" spree, and their coercive influences on her. In addition to these, Sophie observes the fact that her father is in a bad place emotionally and financially. She can't understand everything Calum is dealing with but she empathizes and tries to make him feel better. Her attempts to get her Calum to take part in fun activities are futile though, because he resists, preferring to sit alone and brood in sadness. When Sophie gets a group of tourists to sing "Happy Birthday" to her father on his birthday, he immediately withdraws, breaking down in tears alone in the hotel room. The manner in which this emotional turmoil is depicted borders on the heartbreaking. 



Perhaps the most piercing detail of Aftersun is in it's measured juxtaposition of Calum's descent into deeper, silent depression, with caring for his daughter and trying to make her life a happy one. But Sophie's understanding and empathy surprises and embarrasses Calum, making him even more depressed. As the holiday draws to a close, they both share a rare joyful moment, dancing together to "Under Pressure", a foreshadowing of father and daughter spending their final moments in a loving embrace. This scene is poignant in it's bittersweet after effects. 


Grainy DVD-cam footage shows real evidence of the memories created between Sophie and Calum. Yet Aftersun is presented as a very personal recollection of memories by Sophie as an adult, looking back on things she didn’t really understand at the age of 11. This mystery between recorded and remembered events is what made me invested in the film. I found myself watching almost every frame as if searching for clues to a devastating truth. A truth that remained elusive. Furthermore, the surrealist interspersions between the vacation and rave-like sequences with 31-year old Sophie standing on a dance floor gave Aftersun an otherworldly, euphoric vibe which deepened it's mysterious quality. 



As the camera slowly panned away in the final scene, I heard Aftersun's wistful whisper: that the heart is aware of moments leading to heartbreaks but doesn't see the omens. In this sense, Aftersun is the same story about the relationship between parents and children; a relationship always wired for heartbreak —children grow up and flee the nest, parents wither and pass away. In essence, Charlotte Wells' film is at home in the same conversations as Richard Linklater's Boyhood, and Majid Majidi's Children of Heaven.

Often times, our minds mould prophecies from memories. Memories become colours of blue, yellow, green, etc. and the colours dial up emotions. It's a difficult experience to visualize. Yet Aftersun captures this phenomenon in a way that "almost reinvents film language", while impressing on its viewers some of the deepest emotions ever evoked on screen. As Sophie waves her father a final goodbye the camera lingers, and in the space between, hangs all the words left unsaid.