A daughter and son sit by the waves that always seem to crash at just the right time as they look out into the water, taking in the smell of the moist sea air and the last glimpse of sunlight. In the water lies endless possibilities and the opportunity for self-reflection with the rest of the world left behind. But like the very subjective nature of memory itself, what we see in the water can merely be a subconscious reflection of what we want to see. Charlotte Wells’ debut feature-length film, Aftersun (2022), is a beautiful and heartbreaking tale of bridging the gap between what we remember about our past and what we need to know in order to move on.

Set over the course of a holiday that 11-year-old Sophie (Frankie Corio) takes with her father, Calum (Paul Mescal), Aftersun sees an older Sophie (Celia Rowlson Hall) look back on this time as she tries to figure out who her father really was. Throughout the course of the story, with the true crux of the story’s conflict not being clear right from the start, we start to slowly see Calum’s struggle with depression bubble to the surface. With home video footage that Sophie took during the trip being shown along with older Sophie reliving her own memories, we are involved in putting the narrative pieces together just as Sophie tries to understand the full weight of how her father suffered.

One of the film’s most effective scenes is also one of its quietest. One night early on in their trip, when Sophie is sleeping in bed, the camera slowly starts to focus and zoom in on Calum smoking outside on the patio — a rare moment without the two shown together. While there is no dialogue, we immediately start to become aware that something is going on with Calum through Mescal’s brilliant, subtle performance as we stay with him for an uncomfortably long time. This moment is clearly an escape for Calum as he seems to be given some relief, but his sorrowful eyes seem to remind him of everything going on underneath him that he cannot escape, the night air enveloping him.

The slow, quiet nature of the film works in service of the story by showing how people like Calum often battle their demons behind closed doors. Calum is a father who, despite his financial shortcomings, tries to give everything that he can to his daughter and make her dreams come true, which immediately connects us to him as a character. Many films that tackle mental health issues can end up feeling exploitative or giving too easily simplified versions of these stories: thankfully, Wells is a filmmaker that understands restraint and allows us to sit with human moments, taking everything in just as Sophie does. All of the emotion in the story ends up feeling earned as a result.

At the forefront of the story is Sophie, and the film is arguably just as much (if not more) about her coming-of-age than it is about Calum. At the resort, Sophie is seen interacting with older kids and wanting to understand them on a deeper level. Something as simple as a wristband that an older teenager has, allowing her to get unlimited drinks, ends up being a place of envy for her. The contrast between both Sophie and Calum’s stories and their differing world views, with Sophie having her whole life ahead of her while Calum feels lost in place, creates an engaging dynamic between the two characters as they interact.

Once Aftersun reaches its breathtaking and heart-wrenching conclusion, it immediately becomes clear what everything before it was really building up to. Using Under Pressure by Queen has to be up there as one of the best needle drops of all time, conveying the major gut-punch of Wells’ ending in a perfectly tragic way. The abstract visual image, briefly seen a few times throughout the film, of an older Sophie trying to reach for her father at a club with strobing lights only exemplifies the tension. Subsequent viewings are bound to only make the film’s emotional beats hit on an even deeper level.

While Aftersun, unfortunately, hasn’t seemed to be getting the same promotion and attention as other A24 films, it absolutely deserves to be in the conversation as one of the best films of the year. Not since Paris, Texas has a film harnessed and understood the power of memory and recollection, and reconciling the image we have of the people that we love with who they really are. Whatever story Wells decides to tell next, I’ll be there for it — with just her first major film, she has cemented herself as one of our best modern directors.

Review Courtesy of Matt Minton