Aftersun: A nostalgic, heart-breaking look at childhood memories
Charlotte Wells’ seemingly light-hearted holiday film poignantly deals with the topics of maturing and a bound-to-crumble father-daughter relationship.

Charlotte Wells’ debut feature film lets us peer into a family’s
past before the present-day reality unmasks itself.
Familiar, but in a way that is far behind us, Aftersun opens
with camcorder footage of just-turned eleven-year-old Sophie (Frankie Corio) on a resort holiday in Turkey with her dad,
Calum (Paul Mescal). This seemingly happy opening slowly
dissolves in front of us as clips start to cut together unsettlingly. I
saw Aftersun at the Seville European Film Festival and was
amazed at how poignantly a seemingly light-hearted holiday film could
deal with the topics of maturing and a bound-to-crumble parental
relationship, as seen through the lens of memories.
Calum is a young,
divorced father. From what we can gather, he and
Sophie don’t see each other very often. He clearly has
troubles of his own, never revealed, yet he truly loves his
daughter and is willing to do whatever it takes to make her happy.
Corio perfectly presents Sophie’s effervescent energy, which
greatly contrasts with the sombre guilt that looms over Calum, who
Mescal plays with wonderful conviction by showing us mere
glimpses of the issues he faces.
The film cuts from the past to
fragmented shots of present-day Sophie (Celia Rowlson-Hall) and Calum
to portray their current disjointed relationship. They're surrounded
by an overwhelming number of people amongst flashing lights, an unclear setting until the ending reveals the meaning of
this in a welcomingly abstract way that shatters the viewer.
We witness a sense of growth, both within the individual characters as
well as their relationship as a whole, following one night on which
Calum leaves Sophie to her own devices whilst he goes out to drink,
beginning to spiral as Sophie independently explores the resort. The
holiday comes to a close with a father-daughter dance scene, perhaps the last moment of true connection they’ll ever have,
as the lyrics “This is our last dance” from Queen’s 'Under
Pressure' echo above it, and we are thrown back into the vortex of the
fractured present day. We know the relationship we have just watched blossom will disappear
in front of our eyes, leaving us feeling empty.
In Aftersun Charlotte Wells has created a gorgeous depiction of the happiest memories we could have of our childhood – before we are ruined by our own adulthood.