Aftersun (2022)

Charlotte Wells’ quite exceptional debut feature is heavily autobiographical, drawing on her own relationship with her dad. The film begins with a grown up Sophie, watching old video footage of a holiday she took with her dad twelve years ago, and then morphs into the holiday itself, but not just from Sophie’s point of view. The film is very much a two-hander, with absolutely astonishing performances from its lead pair; Paul Mescal as Sophie’s dad Calum, and Frankie Coro as Sophie herself, in what is surely a major breakout role. You completely lose sight of the fact you’re watching two actors on screen, with the meticulously scripted film matching the acting, all tied beautifully together by Wells’ vision. Aftersun will hit especially hard for those who have been in familiar positions, whether it be a grown up child remembering this kind of interaction with a parent after a splitting marriage/relationship, or indeed a parent recalling their own memories of similar times; a seemingly ever more frequent passing of events in this increasingly and sadly normalised idea of children having (the quite horrifically titled) ‘additional parents’ post a parental break up.

Wells’ film can also be labeled a coming of age story of sorts, Sophie poses questions to her dad (“why do you still say ‘love you’ to mum on the phone?’”) and he offers her his guidance (“You know you can talk to me about these things? I’ve done it all, and you can too”) should she want it. The film is breathtakingly beautiful, set mainly in Turkey at a holiday resort in the nineties (Wells’ sublime music choices make it the summer of 1999 if you want to pinpoint it) and it’s no surprise to see Barry Jenkins’ name pop up as co-producer after his 2016 film Moonlight, of which Aftersun shares some DNA.

Wells’ creates a hallucinogenic feel to the film, Aftersun feels almost frozen in time for its duration, and that’s arguably the point as it opens and closes with Sophie remembering a key event in her life. There is an underlying sense of unease throughout the film, leaving the viewer on edge with no obvious answer as to why; we see Calum crying on the edge of his bed, along with his frequent use of Tai Chi. It’s obvious he’s carrying some baggage, things that he’s clearly working through and wants to put to one side as he spends some seemingly rare time with his daughter.

There’s no doubting Aftersun is one of 2022's best films; unless you’ve got a heart made from ice it’s hard to see how it wouldn’t speak to you on some level, even if you’re not a parent. Charlotte Wells’ first feature film ensures that we’ll be hearing her name repeatedly in the future. 8.6/10