"Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them." – Oscar Wilde
The wounds of youth now scars. The inkling of feelings easily ignored fully bloomed. The hurt of things inherited and passed down. A parent's hold on a child vs. the chaos of the same as they grow into an adult. Hidden shame yelled aloud in anger. The naïveté assigned to young people, though they are often more observant than the mature ones around them. And the bitter, daily pill of trying to quell it all and live.
Calum lives under an insidious cloud that only grows by the day. He tries to hide the darkness, even bringing his daughter to the shine of a beach holiday. His hole dug deep and for such a period that it's now his safety. His heavily weighted blanket. He exits it to help his daughter, and guide her in ways that may protect her from the monster of inheritance. But Sophie is too observant, too smart, for this to last forever. The cracks grow with each birthday. She knows the pain in her father, and he knows he lost something he will never find.
A stunning achievement for a bushel of reasons. A remarkable technical effort from every angle: the patience of the camera, the painkiller-warmth of the score, the tonal excellence of the edit. But the most obvious champions here sit at the forefront: Wells, Mescal, and Corio. Wells, to write something so contained and personal, and yet never lose sight of its artistry when she switches chairs. Mescal, masterfully oscillating between nakedness and cloaked wounds. Corio, displaying every eye-roll and jealous glance with teenage brashness, while never getting lost in the weeds during moments of daughterly forgiveness.
Empathy is a scarce emotion today. But film — art in general — has the power to distribute. And to heal. Genuine moments of this type are not forgotten or easily shaken. And I can tell you with Sophie's brashness that the final stanza of this will stick with me for some time. The spellbinding and tragic beauty of a father and daughter on a dancefloor, and him simply holding a video camera before walking away.
The above was taken from my Letterboxd review.