Oh, Life is Bigger: ‘Aftersun’ Film Review
Written by Abbi Flaugher
Graphic by Abbi Flaugher
“Aftersun” is not your typical coming-of-age film: It is a true think piece, a gear turner. Charlotte Wells’s debut film follows a father and daughter duo on what we assume is their last holiday trip with one another to a run-down resort in Turkey. The opening scene is filmed by Sophie (Frankie Corio) who reveals that she has recently turned 11 years old. She asks her dad Calum (Paul Mescal) what he thought his life would be like today, days before his 31st birthday, at the ripe age of 11. The filming halts soon after, leaving us with no answer. Many clips in this film were recorded by the actors themselves on a 35mm MiniDV camera, giving a strong sense of intimacy and connection to viewers. When the recording stops, you can catch a faint reflection of a person on the screen, sending a chill down your spine upon the later realization that this is Sophie in her later adult years, played by Celia Rowlson-Hall.
We then get a first look at a recurring sequence of Sophie trapped by dancing bodies and blinded by flashing lights, conveying a strong sense of distress when suddenly we realize she is trying to get to her father, Calum, who seems just beyond reach. Calum looks the same here as he did on the trip, while Sophie is her adult, present-day self. This montage pops up a few more times as the film goes on, hinting at a theme of disconnect between the two.
It is pretty simple to pick up on the dynamic between the father-daughter duo. Sophie is beginning to crave more independence and is seeking individuality, especially after being exposed to older teens throughout the week at the resort. Unbeknownst to Sophie, Calum is in a state of mental misery. He puts on a happy face for his daughter with the help of meditation and spirituality books, tai chi, and the occasional cigarette, but as viewers we can see that he is visibly struggling to keep up the facade. He yearns to be a good father and not make the same mistakes his parents did, such as forgetting his 11th birthday.
With a little less than 30 minutes left of the film, another intense rave-like scene appears. This time, it is cut off with the sound of a crying child. As a woman gets up from bed to console the infant, she puts her feet on the ground. We are met with a familiar rug that Calum was captivated by during their summer trip, clicking immediately that this is present-day adult Sophie, who now has a partner, home, and child of her own.
As the film comes to an end, we realize that we were reflecting on this trip alongside Sophie, years later on her 31st birthday. With this in mind, it is evident that the puzzling scenes of Calum and Sophie being unable to reach one another are a reflection of her longing to reconnect with her father. Knowing what she knows now, she can understand what Calum was going through, regardless of the fact that she was blissfully unaware at the time. With Calum looking the same as he did on the trip in her memory, we speculate that is the last she knew of him.
In an interview with The Hollywood Reporter, Wells says, “I will never deny somebody’s experience of the film. I think the loss at the end resonates just as deeply for everyone, regardless of how you’re filling in the gaps in the story.”
What you take away as the message from this film is truly up for interpretation. Someday, we all come to the realization that other people have lives and feelings too — they are not just side characters in our story. We also realize that death is inevitable. Wells’ story gives comfort with the assertion that solace can be achieved even through times of distress.