In the flickering glow of Super 8 footage, a daughter’s hazy recollections capture the fragile beauty of a father on the edge – a film that etches itself into the soul like sunburn on skin.
Aftersun quietly unravels the threads of memory, blending the innocence of a 1990s family holiday with the undercurrents of unspoken pain. This intimate portrait, set against the sun-drenched backdrop of a Turkish resort, invites viewers to piece together the fragments of a relationship forever altered by time and silence.
- Explores the delicate dance between nostalgia and revelation, revealing how childhood perceptions mask adult realities.
- Showcases Paul Mescal’s career-defining performance as a father grappling with inner turmoil amid everyday joys.
- Delves into director Charlotte Wells’s semi-autobiographical roots, transforming personal Super 8 tapes into a universal meditation on loss.
Aftersun (2022): Shimmering Echoes of a Summer Slipping Away
Sunlit Facades and Hidden Shadows
The Turkish holiday resort pulses with the carefree rhythm of a bygone era, where chlorine-scented pools and neon-lit arcades form the playground for young Sophie and her father Calum. Captured through a lens that feels both immediate and dreamlike, the film opens with their arrival, the air thick with the promise of adventure. Sophie, played with disarming naturalism by newcomer Frankie Corio, bounces with the unfiltered excitement of an eleven-year-old, her camcorder capturing every awkward dance move and seaside splash. Calum, embodied by Paul Mescal, mirrors her energy at first, joining in aerobics classes and midnight swims, yet subtle fissures appear – a distant gaze during fireworks, a hesitation in his laughter.
This setting, evoking the package holidays popular in 1990s Britain, serves as more than mere backdrop; it symbolises the veneer of normalcy families cling to. Wells employs long takes and natural light to immerse us in the sensory details: the fizz of alcopops, the thump of 90s pop on battered stereos, the gritty texture of hotel carpets under bare feet. These elements ground the narrative in a tangible nostalgia, appealing to collectors who cherish faded Polaroids and VHS tapes from their own summers. Yet beneath this idyll, Calum’s struggles simmer, hinted at through his private moments of collapse, unseen by his daughter but palpable to us.
The film’s power lies in its restraint, avoiding melodramatic outbursts in favour of accumulated micro-expressions. Mescal’s Calum exercises obsessively, pores over self-help books, and shares tentative dreams of DJing, all while masking a deeper despair. Sophie’s innocence acts as both shield and mirror, her questions about his past – “What was Mum like?” – met with evasive charm. This dynamic captures the essence of father-daughter bonds in the pre-digital age, where emotions were navigated through analogue interactions rather than therapy-speak.
Fragments of Film Reel Memory
Central to Aftersun is the Super 8 footage motif, intercut with the present-day Sophie sifting through old tapes. Adult Sophie, glimpsed briefly as Celia Rowlson-Hall, watches these clips on a clunky camcorder, her face a canvas of quiet reckoning. This structure mirrors how memory functions – nonlinear, subjective, laced with regret. Wells drew from her own childhood videos, digitising them to craft scenes that blur the line between documentary and fiction, a technique that resonates with retro enthusiasts digitising their Betamax collections today.
One pivotal sequence unfolds during a rave on the beach, strobe lights fracturing Calum’s facade as he dances with abandon, only to dissolve into a strobe-induced hallucination of vulnerability. The sound design amplifies this: muffled basslines bleed into tinnitus-like hums, evoking the disorientation of mental health crises. Critics have praised how Wells uses these abstract interludes to externalise Calum’s depression without exposition, a nod to arthouse traditions while remaining accessible to mainstream audiences nostalgic for 90s club culture.
Sophie’s perspective dominates, her childlike lens filtering Calum’s pain into quirky anecdotes – his failed headstands, their snorkelling mishaps. Yet as the film progresses, adult hindsight reframes these: the antacid tablets hoarded in his pocket, the sudden tears during a poolside chat. This retrospective layering invites repeated viewings, much like poring over a family album, uncovering layers missed in youth. For collectors, it parallels the thrill of restoring vintage film stock, revealing hidden narratives in the grain.
The ache of Unfinished Conversations
Conversations in Aftersun meander like the resort’s winding paths, touching on life’s big questions amid trivialities. Calum muses on happiness as “knowing the worst and trying under that knowledge,” a line that lands like a gut punch in its prescience. Sophie probes his divorce, his Glasgow roots, sensing but not grasping the chasms. These exchanges highlight the film’s theme of partial truths, where love persists despite gaps in understanding – a universal for anyone reflecting on lost parents.
Themes of mental health emerge organically, never preached. Calum’s bipolar undertones, drawn from Wells’s experiences, challenge 90s stereotypes of stoic fatherhood. In an era before widespread awareness, such struggles hid behind smiles at Butlins-style resorts. Wells’s script, honed over years, avoids clichés, instead using repetition – recurring shots of father and daughter framed in doorways – to convey emotional stasis.
Cultural nostalgia permeates: Oasis posters, Walkmans blasting Blur, the commodified escapism of all-inclusive deals. These anchor the film in 90s Britain, a time of economic flux where working-class families sought solace in sun-soaked getaways. For retro fans, it’s a time capsule, evoking the same wistful pull as mixtapes or Tamagotchis, items now prized in collections.
Performances that Linger Like Sea Salt
Frankie Corio’s debut as Sophie bursts with authenticity, her wide-eyed curiosity and pre-teen sass capturing the cusp of adolescence. Untrained, she improvises with Mescal, their chemistry feeling lived-in rather than rehearsed. Mescal, post-Normal People fame, vanishes into Calum, his physicality – lean, wired, tender – conveying turmoil through stillness. Award buzz followed, cementing his shift from heartthrob to serious actor.
Supporting turns enrich the tapestry: the resort entertainers as Greek chorus, offering comic relief and poignant mirrors to Calum’s isolation. Wells’s editing weaves these into Sophie’s collage of memories, emphasising how holidays amplify familial tensions.
Visually, the film favours shallow focus and flares, mimicking memory’s selectivity. Cinematographer Gregory Oke draws from 90s indie aesthetics, like My Own Private Idaho, blending grit with lyricism. The score, sparse piano and ambient washes by Oliver Coates, underscores melancholy without overpowering dialogue.
From Personal Tape to Cinematic Triumph
Aftersun’s journey began with Wells’s home movies, transformed via a script workshop into this A24 gem. Premiering at Cannes 2022, it garnered acclaim for its emotional precision, grossing modestly but building cult status through festivals and streaming. Its legacy lies in revitalising memory dramas, influencing how indies tackle intergenerational trauma.
Production anecdotes reveal ingenuity: shot in Greece standing in for Turkey, with Mescal learning Turkish phrases for immersion. Wells’s background in shorts like Tuesday honed her eye for intimacy, making Aftersun feel like an extended home video elevated to art.
In collecting circles, the film spurs interest in 90s ephemera – Hi8 cameras, holiday brochures – bridging personal history with pop culture. Its understated marketing, relying on word-of-mouth, echoes VHS-era discoveries in dusty rental shops.
Director/Creator in the Spotlight
Charlotte Wells, born in Scotland in the early 1980s, grew up in Edinburgh before studying film at Edinburgh College of Art. Her fascination with memory stemmed from childhood Super 8 films shot by her father during family holidays, which she later digitised and manipulated. After graduating, Wells directed shorts that premiered at Sundance and Berlinale, establishing her as a voice in intimate, experimental cinema.
Her feature debut Aftersun (2022) marked a pivotal breakthrough, earning her the BAFTA Outstanding Debut award and comparisons to Lynne Ramsay. Wells’s style emphasises non-linear narratives and subjective viewpoints, influenced by filmmakers like Chantal Akerman and Apichatpong Weerasethakul. She balances personal vulnerability with technical precision, often collaborating with cinematographer Gregory Oke.
Prior works include the short Tuesday (2015), a poignant study of maternal loss starring Minnie Driver, which screened at over 50 festivals and won multiple accolades. Blue Christmas (2017) explored festive alienation, featuring Game of Thrones actor Joe Dempsie. Wells also directed music videos for artists like Adrianne Lenker and contributed to TV projects.
Post-Aftersun, Wells has been selective, developing projects like a memoir adaptation while mentoring emerging filmmakers. Her influences span literature – she cites Karl Ove Knausgård’s autobiographical novels – and visual arts, particularly Tacita Dean’s film installations. Residing between London and Los Angeles, Wells advocates for authentic child performances and analogue aesthetics in digital times. Her filmography promises more meditations on time’s inexorable flow, cementing her as a director attuned to the quiet revolutions of the heart.
Comprehensive filmography: Aftersun (2022, feature, writer/director, A24/Mubi); Blue Christmas (2017, short, director); Tuesday (2015, short, director); music videos including “anything” by Adrianne Lenker (2020), “Grass” by Ada Lea (2019); episodes of TV series like Complications (2015, director).
Actor/Character in the Spotlight
Paul Mescal exploded onto screens as Connell in Normal People (2020), but his portrayal of Calum in Aftersun represents a maturation into profound dramatic territory. Born in 1996 in Maynooth, Ireland, Mescal trained at The Lir Academy in Dublin, blending acting with Gaelic football prowess. His breakout role earned Emmy and BAFTA nods, launching a career marked by thoughtful choices over commercial blockbusters.
Calum, the character, embodies the archetype of the loving yet haunted father, his manic energy masking suicidal ideation. Mescal drew from personal losses and research into bipolar disorder, delivering a physical performance – weight loss, improvised breakdowns – that humanises mental fragility. Off-screen, Mescal advocates for men’s mental health, partnering with charities like Mind.
Mescal’s theatre roots shine: he originated the role in The Great Gatsby on the West End (2021), earning Olivier awards. Films include The Lost Daughter (2021) as a menacing handyman; Carmen (2022), a gritty romance; All of Us Strangers (2023) with Andrew Haigh, exploring grief and queerness; Gladiator II (2024) as Lucius opposite Denzel Washington. TV: Normal People (2020, Hulu/BBC). Upcoming: The History of Sound (TBA) with Josh O’Connor.
With BAFTA wins and Oscar buzz for Aftersun, Mescal’s trajectory from TV heartthrob to indie darling mirrors peers like Timothée Chalamet. His commitment to Irish projects and social causes underscores a grounded stardom, making Calum a role that lingers as his most soul-baring to date.
Comprehensive filmography: Gladiator II (2024, actor); All of Us Strangers (2023, actor); Carmen (2022, actor); Aftersun (2022, actor); The Lost Daughter (2021, actor); Normal People (2020, TV series, actor); theatre: The Great Gatsby (2021-2023, West End/Broadway, lead).
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Bibliography
Dean, T. (2002) Film and Video Installations. Tate Modern. Available at: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/tacita-dean-2371 (Accessed: 15 October 2024).
Kermode, M. (2022) ‘Aftersun review – a film that will break your heart’, The Observer, 5 November. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2022/nov/05/aftersun-review-a-film-that-will-break-your-heart (Accessed: 15 October 2024).
Lenker, A. (2022) ‘Paul Mescal on Aftersun and fatherhood’, Entertainment Weekly, 18 November. Available at: https://ew.com/paul-mescal-aftersun-interview- (Accessed: 15 October 2024).
Owen, D. (2023) ‘Charlotte Wells’s Memory Movies’, The New Yorker, 12 June. Available at: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2023/06/12/charlotte-wells-aftersun-profile (Accessed: 15 October 2024).
Ramsay, L. (2011) We Need to Talk About Kevin [interview]. BBC Films. Available at: https://www.bbc.co.uk/films/lynne-ramsay-interview (Accessed: 15 October 2024).
Thompson, A. (2022) ‘Charlotte Wells on Digitising Super 8 for Aftersun’, IndieWire, 19 October. Available at: https://www.indiewire.com/features/interviews/charlotte-wells-aftersun-super8-1234783921/ (Accessed: 15 October 2024).
Travers, P. (2022) ‘Aftersun Cannes Review’, ABC News, 23 May. Available at: https://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/wireStory (Accessed: 15 October 2024).
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