'Aftersun' (2022) Film Review

After sun. The cooling, calming, silky smooth ointment that soothes the skin after a long, tiresome day in the sun. Sold by the barrel to British holidayers once the clouds depart and the heat rises, after sun can be find in all good retailers and every prepared holiday bag.

Aftersun (2022) was the supposed remedy to a tense, rainy day in Birmingham, that began with a late start, sobbing into a leftover spaghetti lunch and a race to the bus stop (a bus which was 5ish minutes late anyway). Lead by the wonderful Paul Mescal and his lovely on-screen daughter Frankie Corio, this A24 film centres on a somewhat heart-breaking relationship between father and daughter. Aftersun is a film that you feel you should cry at, or at least feel a lump in your throat or a warming in your chest. Aftersun feels as though you should be hit with nostalgia and a distant longing for your parental figure, or something you have lost.

Cynically, those delicate feelings were lost on me as I assumed I’d feel them and was expecting more of an emotional burn. But alas, from the hand-held camera, 90s bops and 10p arcade games, the all-inclusive Turkish sun tried to relay a sense of nostalgia but didn’t quite scratch the itch for a need to cry or reflect.

Aftersun is subtle, that is its greatest strength, I suppose most hoity-toity film reviewers would argue that’s the point of film, that you must read into it or it’s not highbrow if you don’t have to work for understanding the narrative. But Aftersun doesn’t focus on a grandiose narrative, nor showcasing the dramas of a young father struggling with his own desired demise, rather he shows the anxiety for such a man to ensure his daughter enjoys her holiday, to ensure she doesn’t fixate on older boys that may get her into trouble, ensures that her birthday may not be forgotten like his. As a father, Calum not only protects, but teaches to defend, he dances and laughs, he mocks, he is quiet, but he tries to let Sophie in. He holds his daughter like he doesn’t want to let go, he helps her picture a future that is safe, that is full of possibilities, I suppose one that he lacks or won’t get to have.

Mescal’s portrayal of Calum may end up becoming a favourite case study of masculinity for film and media students of the future, the film focusing on his mental wellbeing or his mysteriously sad past. The tai chi, the dancing, the deep dark holes he finds himself in. He leaves Sophie at departures and enters back into his darkness, we can assume for good but how strangely calming it was to see his fight with living, or to put bluntly- stay alive or not to stay alive. It was more so realistic, like much of the script as many reviews have suggested. I suppose I am unsure upon first watch.

There was a sense of danger that kept reoccurring within Aftersun, Calum’s focus on Sophie being able to protect herself, her strange or potentially strange friendship with the older boys, Calum’s suggested attempt at a drunken late-night swim/suicide that had me literally arguing with myself upon how the plot would play out, how the director was thinking. There was a natural tension within the film, so for all its calmness, more quiet action, there was a sense of looming but uncertain danger throughout. I enjoyed that, I liked the aggression against the beautiful shots, friendly colours, etc…

The film has a general idea of grief throughout, according to its synopsis and marketing and other reviews and that is understandable. Grief isn’t just about death though, Sophie (in the present) may be grieving her father, or her innocence, or the simplicity of the summer holiday against being in her 30s with a partner and child. Calum grieves throughout Aftersun, for himself, for Sophie, for his youth, for his pain. You cannot claim a film is about grief, however, to be able to allude to death, it’s too complex a feeling. Just a pet peeve, because not everyone may feel or understand the alluded or desired emotion throughout the film.

Aftersun is a special type of film. A certain nothingness film. One with no set plot, no urgency but with short scenes, a true ‘slice-of-life’ narrative, just sadder or tilting towards depressing. It is not an overly or strenuously emotional film, perhaps this cynical reviewer just felt numb but there is a general numb feeling from this film. Perhaps the nostalgia of being the only child on a summer holiday, time goes slowly, and the sun just hurts after a while?

This film is a quiet and a peaceful type of reflection. It feels as though you are watching someone’s life go by for them, wondering how or if you, your parents, partner, or friends watching alongside you feel how Calum or Sophie may. Or, if they know that you feel like it. Watching this film, alongside only a few strangers, unsure if that woman blowing her nose is crying or if the posh looking couple think it’s a rubbish film, you are unsure if you should be a wreck, if a single tear should roll down your cheek. However, for those of us with a bit of a high emotional threshold sometimes, the feeling of watching this film is much like visiting somewhere spiritual, a church perhaps. You are unsure if you ‘should’ be feeling something and if so, what that ‘something’ is. That may just be the anxious feelings of expectations that come with watching an A24 film.

Aftersun is a film for when you’re unsure if you want to feel something or remain feeling nothing. Aftersun is not quite the burn I was expecting but I am happy to feel something, even if I’m not quite sure what it is.