Aftersun

Paul Mescal’s Calum in Aftersun, 2022

Paul Mescal isn’t finished breaking your heart.

★★★★★

Confession first. I’m part of the 1% that hasn’t, yet, been wrecked by Paul Mescal and Daisy Edgar-Jones in Normal People. It’s an embarrassing statement, of which little is softened by the fear of TV licence collectors.

Aftersun required me and two friends to drive to Southampton. As far as I’m aware, it was one of the first showings in the UK. That could be entirely wrong, just like my misjudgement that Southampton has great parking. Luckily, the shock contradiction to my parking-based naivety wasn’t enough to squander my first experience of Aftersun. Southampton City Council can consider Aftersun’s appearance at Harbour Lights Picturehouse as an accidental peace treaty.

2022’s Aftersun marks the directorial debut of Scot-born Charlotte Wells, retelling the semi-biographical story of a father (Calum) and daughter (Sophie) on holiday- set sometime in the 1990’s. The pair stay at a fading holiday resort in Portugal: a setting made up of cheap booze and even cheaper tribute acts. Oh, and there’s a pool table that’s almost always in demand. I’ve never understood how hotels never anticipate the number of people one drink away from believing themselves to be the next ‘Ronnie O’Sullivan’. Yet, by miracle, Calum and Sophie capitalise on a game of pairs, teamed against young jet-setters. Calum is mistaken as Sophie’s brother, of which he originally laughs off- although later correcting them. It’s an early review of his age-affiliated paranoia, initially played off with humour.

Paul Mescal (Left) and Frankie Corio (Right) in Aftersun, 2022.

As for the sound of Aftersun, it’s nostalgia-ridden soundtrack feels like a culmination of reminiscent 90’s music that echoes via memory. Tune into any curated 90’s playlist, and you could believe that the cheesier-half of it would drone out the film’s hotel speakers.

Admist the ‘Macarena’, the film also finds room for quiet- of which most of Mescal’s gut-wrenching scenes are highlighted. Of course, this is Sophie’s retelling of their last holiday, with these silent moments posing as a lack of clarity over his true persona. In fact, it becomes staggeringly plausible that the musical choices inhabit exaggerated metaphors of her father and his performative ‘easy-go’ perception. The film climaxes with Calum asking Sophie for a dance to ‘Under Pressure’, which contradicts with the isolated depression Calum exudes. Altogether, we begin to believe a tragedy is looming, but we remain unsure on its details.

It’s this unknown, paint-by-numbers, investigation that an older ‘present-day’ Sophie inducts that creates Aftersun’s biggest tragedy. Like Sophie, we’re left to fill the blanks- similar to how we are all left when someone close to us is gone. No matter how many memories remain, it’s impossible not to conjure unanswered questions- all of which are now to be left eternally blank.

The film’s credits roll in, accompanied by Oliver Coates’ as-of-yet unreleased score, and I’d just about managed to hold my emotions together in presentable fashion. Anyone who’s been to the cinema with friends will know the doomed feeling of speaking about it afterwards. The socially-acceptable time to do this, I’ve devised, seems to be when the first actor credit rolls in. And so, Paul Mescal’s name blared light onto our retinas, at the same time that my friend nudged my arm with a ‘what did you think?’

Unashamedly, this film broke me, subsequently hitting home as my arm was quite literally hit itself. I must reiterate that it was only a nudge, but a nudge, nonetheless, was enough to seep reality back into its course. Memories of my own family, videotaping me whilst I was bumbling around, flashed back. I remembered discovering discs-upon-discs of footage shot by my grandfather, all of which never contained himself. Occasionally, there’d be a shadow, or better, a voice. These tapes remain the last physicalisation of a man that contributed so much to who I am, and continue to become. Director Charlotte Wells brought me back to these tapes, and the selfless actions of parental figures. For that, Aftersun isn’t going to leave, I hope, ever.