PicoBlog

Aftersun received four nominations at the Baftas, and writer-director Charlotte Wells won in the catagory for Outstanding Debut by a British Writer, Director or Producer. It is a father-daughter film, and as such, one might be expected to describe it as poignant and moving. What is different about it is that it is infused with sadness, since the doting father, Callum, played by Paul Mescal, is clearly struggling with depression. Writer/director  Wells says it is based on real people - she lost her father aged 16.

The film begins and ends with a clip of a home movie from a holiday Callum and his daughter Sophie took together when Sophie - played with sensitivity and aplomb by Frankie Corio - was just eleven.

Callum clearly loves his daughter and is dedicated to her. He is tender and nurturing, and on good terms with Sophie’s mother despite them no longer being together. They arrive late at a holiday resort which will be familiar to many in its heartsink qualities - the package holiday that didn’t tell you that noisy building work was going on, or that the ‘twin’ room contained only one single bed.

Sophie barely notices, or if she does, she doesn’t say anything. She is ecstatic to be spending time with her father. The two of them have an easy companionship, bantering light-heartedly or sitting in contented silence. There are a lot of the latter; something you don’t see much of in films, these days where every minute has to count towards the plot. And yet silences can say so much.

Here, they suggest to us that Callum is pre-occupied and that although he wears a smiley face for his child, he feels turmoil inside. We receive hints about the causes of that discontent - a neglected childhood, a recent break-up. And of course it can’t help that the person he loves the most in the world, Sophie, is no longer living with him, since he is separated from her mother.

Their holiday is in Turkey, and they take day trips with other people from their tour. Although Sophie chats to some of the other children and young people there, Callum is reserved but polite, quietly drinking lager on his own.

Nothing very much happens for much of the film, to the extent where the viewer wonders if we are building up to a catastrophe - will Sophie fall in with the much older heavily drinking teens at the resort? Will one of them make a sexual move on the child? Could she be abducted when she is wandering around alone? But this is not an action thriller. It’s far too nuanced for that. The closest we get to disaster is when Callum retires to their room early one night after a minor disagreement. We feel the danger of the resort as the diminutive girl wanders around the resort looking lost. But the threat, when it comes, is from a different direction. Thankfully disaster is averted, but the viewer is left far from reassured. We know that there is a ticking time bomb which will eventually go off.

There is a depth and resonance to this film which is greater than the sum of its parts. Partly this is down to great casting - Paul Mescal is an adoring father, but away from his daughter, he is revealed in his fragility, wracked by the devastation that often accompanies a childhood devoid of love; lonely; unable to connect in a meaningful way with other adults and have the relationship endure. It’s as if he is always carrying the secret of his abuse with him; it stops him from liking or being his true self. Because it’s true, if you have been made to feel unlovable, you do carry that around with you forever unless someone else makes you realise you are indeed deserving of love.

Frankie Corio is excellent as a child on the verge of pubescence, catching glimpses into the adult world. She is spirited and funny, but she has also seen things that have made her grow up too quickly, as with all children whose parents have separated, and beneath her easy volubility she appraises everything. Thankfully, we are given hints that her core stability will keep her safe. When an older holidaymaker gives her her yellow bracelet, which allows free access to everything at the resort including alcohol, Sophie simply orders a Fanta.

The tacky resort is depicted with wry humour. Awful performers croon old favourites on stage at night. The pool is overlooked by the building works. Professional conmen wander the restaurant offering to take a Polaroid of customers for extortionate fees. Sophie puts in a tuneless performance at a karaoke. We feel a pang when Callum offers to pay for singing lessons for her and she tells him he can’t afford it. It’s at this point that he retires to his room, probably feeling inadequate. It’s easy to see how a chance comment can rip at the shreds of self esteem left.

We are given hints about Callum’s younger days. We know he took drugs and went clubbing. The former can of course screw with the brains of those pre-disposed to mental illness. Nowadays Callum leads a calmer life; he has brought a stack of books on meditation and tai chi. And yet, he is still troubled.

In one harrowing scene, he writes a postcard to Sophie for her to receive after she arrives home, telling her how much he loves her. It’s a shocking reminder that even being a loving parent cannot stop those with severe depression from contemplating suicide.

We realise at the end that Sophie has been watching this home holiday movie many yeas later, as an adult, reminiscing about her father. Perhaps she is looking for signs as to his mental state.

It’s a shocking, searing film that haunts you way after you’ve stopped watching. The toxic legacy of a loveless childhood is laid bare.  I wanted desperately for Callum to receive effective professional health, but we know that life is not a fairy story, and most of us know of beautiful individuals who could not cope with the empty desolation they felt.

The film is all the stronger for not giving us definite outcomes. It lodged in my brain and made me feel melancholy and gratitude. A stunning understated mini masterpiece.

Aftersun is available on the BBC iplayer.

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