A lightness of touch defines the quietly absorbing debut from writer-director Charlotte Wells. Her autofictional feature Aftersun takes us back to 11-year-old Sophie's (Frankie Corio) 90's package holiday to a Turkish resort with her father Calum (Paul Mescal).
You can see there's real affection between them as they mess about with the camcorder, lounge around by the pool and do touristy things like visiting a mud bath or enjoying the hotel cabaret.
But in his solitary moments and through pensive stares – props to cinematographer Gregory Oke for his tight shots here – it's clear that something is wrong.
One of my favourite frames from Aftersun is where Calum sits in a rug shop. It’s become his refuge, a hiding place, if only for a moment
Calum's a little too eager for them to have a good time together, to be the best version of himself when he's with her. Alone, he seems burdened and tormented, like he's coming undone. The clues are there on his bookshelf (meditation, self-help) and how he tries to find stillness and peace in the practice of tai chi.
Perhaps it is the weight of being a young father (he's about to turn 31 and separated from Sophie's mother), while still trying to find a foothold in his own life. Putting on a brave face for your daughter, being who you want to be for her (protector, provider, unshakeable presence), takes its toll.
As the minutes passed and Calum becomes increasingly withdrawn, I felt this mounting dread that something awful was about to happen. Wells uses that finely poised tension to raise the stakes, to create suspense, which draws us closer. Sophie hints at her own malaise at one point, talking about feeling "down" and how "your bones don't work, like you're sinking". It could be momentary but it troubles her father … and the rest of us.
While Calum retreats inwards, Sophie hangs out with the older teens who drink and fool around. A young boy in the arcade takes a shine to her. She's curious, precocious, a little rebellious even, and finding her own way in the world. It's a rights of passage many of us can relate to.
For those who came of age in the 90's, we can also appreciate the level of detail and specificity in how Wells and her team evoked this period – from hearing Catatonia's 'Road Rage' or 'Macarena' blasting out once again, to Sophie ordering a Fanta Orange or the choice of haircuts and sports casual wear. The odd Renault Toro whizzing around as well.
The function of memory is integral to Aftersun, Or rather, nostalgia and how formative feelings "can endure uncorrupted a little longer than the specifics of a memory,” as Wells says. A key construct of the film is to place an older Sophie (Celia Rowlson) on a strobed dancefloor as she imagines seeing her father there, eyes closed and euphoric, in a tangle of bodies. He's lost in the music but beyond her reach. Queen's 'Under Pressure' never fails to open me up in a rush of emotion, but the way it's harnessed and manipulated with sound design in one of the film's pivotal scenes is a deft piece of filmmaking.
Back at home and unable to sleep, older Sophie (now with her own child) plays some of the Mini DV camcorder footage we are watching and you begin to wonder if the movie is a larger echo of that experience. She is excavating a past, both recorded and recalled. Why? To find happy memories that make her feel closer to her father, of course, but also to look for clues. What was he going through? Why didn't she see the signs? Will history repeat itself?
As the main videographer, young Sophie's point of view is the prevailing one, angled up and in reverence, yet the wide shots also convey a distance she can't quite bridge. Corio is a revelation, a charming character I immediately invested in and cared for. Much of her work was off-script. Her rapport with Mescal feels real, alive, because they hung out and found their place in relation to one another in this story. This is her movie.
Mescal is the perfect choice as Calum. I can't think of many other actors who could embody the requisite duality of stature and vulnerability on screen. He has this rare ability to convey so much of what's felt but not spoken or understood with just a look or awkward pause. He can channel an innate sense of warmth and sincerity, then take a role into darker waters. Make sure you see him in God’s Creatures and briefly in Maggie Gyllenhaal's The Lost Daughter opposite a harrowed Olivia Coleman.
Aftersun is showing in cinemas right now and coming to Mubi among other streaming services very soon.