Just in time for the start of the spring semester, Scottish director Charlotte Wells’ Aftersun offered me a new outlook on New Beginnings and adolescence. In this coming-of-age drama, eleven-year-old Sophie struggles to hold onto childhood while also rushing towards adolescence. She craves the best of both worlds: she wants a New Beginning with the comfort of her old one. The film is beautiful and simple on the surface, with no narration and many clips taken on her father, Calum’s, camcorder. However, its seemingly simple composition is confounded by its complex and emotional dynamics, beautiful enough that Paul Mescal (playing Calum) was recently nominated for an Oscar for his performance. The film, which takes place during a holiday vacation in Turkey, grants the audience a glimpse into the relationship between eleven-year-old Sophie and her father Calum.
Aftersun made me crave a New Beginning myself. It induces a nostalgia for the superficially uncomplicated nature of being eleven years old. Transitioning back to college from home after a long winter break reminds me to embrace a New Beginning and the unknown while I try to hold onto the comforts of home and the familiar.
In an interview with The Guardian, director Charlotte Wells credits the emotional connection viewers feel with the characters for pushing it “way beyond like an arthouse film legibility to something far more raw.” The film uses a common denominator, the parent-child relationship, to reach the audience’s hearts. Their vacation feels like a universal experience, one where getting older was a race and parents became complicated, real people.
When Paul Mescal’s surprise Best Actor nomination was announced, a mad rush arrived at The Brattle, a local movie theater located a block beyond the center of Harvard Square. When I arrived a few minutes before 7pm with my ticket, they announced the showing was sold out; those without tickets disappointedly dissipated.
Settling into my seat, I took in the small, packed theater; the screen with a small stage perched in front of it, and the red-painted arch hugged the border of the screen. Far from a commercial movie experience, watching Aftersun at the Brattle felt intimate. To me, this felt fitting for a low-budget movie that, before the Oscar nomination, largely flew under the radar.
In Aftersun, Wells portrays a child’s experience from an adult’s perspective. The flashback structure is not very obvious, as there are few scenes of Sophie’s current life. Sophie’s older self seeps through in the movie, and her childhood memories are colored by the twenty years that have passed. She picks up on comments and facial expressions made by her father Calum in a way eleven-year-old Sophie might not have. Wells does not rely on dialogue to tell her story; she relies much more on body language in the film.
Aftersun mastered the art of showing instead of telling. The film lacks narration: Sophie and Calum speak for themselves. At first, the clips feel disjointed or scattered. But each clip is purposeful and a key to decoding Sophie and Calum’s relationship. Their dynamic is comfortable, peppered with brief moments of unease or distance that speak volumes about both characters. Each shot feels careful but looks casual: the characters are at ease in each other’s presence.
Sophie clings to the idea of childhood and its simplicity, but pushes her way to adolescence. She changes superficially by switching from arcade games to pool and staying out late by herself. But, even after this, she longs to stay in the phase of her life that is quickly passing. Sophie feels a deep nostalgia as she feels herself moving away from her childhood. Though she may not realize it within the parameters of the film, these changes echo in her relationship with Calum. And to the audience, they echo beyond the theater, ultimately staying with them.
Sachi Laumas ’26 (slaumas@college.harvard.edu) did cry a little at the end of this movie.