AFTER SUN
One of the most surprisingly intimate NYFF60 films centering on a father-daughter relationship, Charlotte Wells‘ AFTER SUN, hits you square in the chest, over and over. Eleven-year-old Sophie and her father, Calum, go on their annual holiday. A resort in Turkey is the backdrop of a screenplay that has three distinct narratives playing out simultaneously. And by that, I mean AFTERSUN is a coming-of-age film, a story of depression and the unbreakable bond between a parent and their child.
It is quickly apparent Calum is struggling with his mental health but attempts to make the most of his time with Sophie. Like most kids, she is keenly aware of her father’s tendency to please, regardless of his financial circumstance. Their vacation, while average to Sophie, proves to be their last.
The film utilizes camcorder footage. Sophie is behind the camera. The film’s cinematography also lends to the intimacy, with close-ups of hands and faces, as well as the use of reflections, in everything from mirrors to glass doors and television sets. Besides the fantastic costumes marking the 90s, the soundtrack makes it loud and clear while subtly enhancing the story. Carefully chosen tracks like “Under Pressure,” even though it’s from 1981, speak volumes.
There are moments in the film that appear unusual until you realize the larger picture. Calum frustratingly attempts to teach Sophie a self-defense technique that feels inappropriate for her age. He is unbothered by her confession of a first kiss and more focused on the fact that she felt comfortable sharing about her life. He offers her a sip of beer. What draws us into the screenplay is an intoxicating mix of awkward moments juxtaposed by a relationship one strives to have with their offspring. The care Calum expresses, the time feels weighted and invested.
Paul Mescal is extraordinary. The emotional highs and lows draw you into the film. If you’re a parent, they also cause concern for Sophie’s well-being. Frankie Corio is a revelation as Sophie. She is funny, spontaneous, observant, and fearless. Mescal and Corio share an onscreen bond that feels genuinely familial. If you didn’t know better, you would swear this film was a documentary. Charlotte Wells has given audiences an exquisite gem in AFTERSUN. You must seek it out.
Tora the Trucker Cat, truck driver David, and girlfriend Destiny travel together from state to state for months. Tora has a leash to explore national parks and a seat in David’s backpack when she needs a break. Tora has become the focus of David’s newfound photography skills. She’s a bit of a celebrity that’s allowed David to express himself in ways he never thought possible.
Sir Anthony Hopkins plays Paul’s grandfather, Aaron. Hopkins nails the role with charm and grace. He is a crucial moral compass for Paul but is also part of the broader problem. Gray explains how this microcosm of one family is just as relevant today, stating that one can be oppressed and still be an oppressor. This idea is never more true as we watch Paul begin to understand white privilege while simultaneously wrestling with his desire to be an artist and feeling unsupported, behavioral acting out, and the subsequent physical discipline.
Let me explain why the cast’s explanations became of great significance. The most successful aspect of Gray’s script is the nuance in character building. These are not sugar-coated versions of people, but characters in volatile times, racially and economically. Their flaws are exponentially recognizable, regardless of the year. Armageddon Time could be happening right now. The cynical nature of history and generational trauma will have audiences’ hearts in their throats, shaking their heads in shame for much of the film. Therein lies the film’s strongest achievement.
With a little bit of The Blair Witch Project vibe, writer-director Scott Sloane takes on exploitation in a unique and relevant way. Performances are solid across the board. The first half of the film is tightly structured. While the second half is a touch predictable, it is still fun, filled with gore and revenge. If you’re a ghost hunter/paranormal/ true crime/ horror nerd like me, you will appreciate the legit editing. Special shout out to the incessantly creepy contortionist work. Bravo.
Justin P. Lange‘s The Visitor is an immensely enjoyable horror film populated by a protagonist who has certainly never heard this joke. Things pretty quickly go amiss when Robert (Finn Jones) relocates from London to his wife’s small town. While settling into her childhood home, Robert finds a mysterious portrait in her attic. It is of a man referred to only as “The Visitor”, and he bears a striking resemblance to Robert.
There is still much to like in The Visitor. The core performances are uniformly strong. Jones and McNamee have nice unforced chemistry, and I wished the film had given us more time with them. It is effectively paced (86 minutes!) and contains several genuinely frightful and inventive scares. I especially loved the way the film leveraged the biblical plagues without feeling the need for too much supporting exposition.
2D charcoal and pen animation and an ominous score (in fact, my six-year-old son heard it in the background and exclaimed, “That’s so scary!”) 
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[MUBI Spotlight] 
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This Halloween, MUBI presents 
Legendary horror master George A. Romero returns to MUBI with a gruesome double feature with a generous amount of blood, guts, and sociopolitical allegory to satisfy any zombie movie cravings. From the final two chapters of Romero’s epic five-decade long Dead series: the “found-footage” shot 
This October, as the days grow shorter and the air grows colder, MUBI presents a double feature celebrating some of the very best of contemporary Icelandic cinema, which has recently experienced a resurgence of sorts in the international festival circuit. In 
To celebrate the Halloween spirit, this October MUBI presents Michio Yamanto’s aptly titled 
British experimental artist, critic, and writer Morgan Quaintance explores cinema as collective memory. Through his texturally rich short films, Quaintance focuses on hidden or forgotten history through the reconstruction of archival materials, moving image, photographs, written text and disconnected sounds. This month MUBI presents a double bill of his most recent work: 
To celebrate the release of 
This month, MUBI continues its ongoing retrospective of misunderstood French master Maurice Pialat with 
The script is relentlessly chilling. Because the audience has more information than anyone else, it feels as though the characters are sitting ducks. We are right alongside Sara as she witnesses her tormentors thrown into the back of a serial killer’s van. She says nothing, both out of fear and perhaps relief. Those that have ever been on the receiving end of horrible words and despicable actions will undoubtedly wince throughout the film.
PIGGY also speaks to the weight of parental support. We find Sara’s mother to be a nagging, uncaring shrew, while her father pays attention to her with genuine love. Her woes are exacerbated by her parents owning the local butcher shop, leading vile peers to dub her “Piggy.” One of the girls, Claudia, has a deeper connection to Sara based on her delay tactics in teasing and a matching bracelet with Sara.
The ending of the film is a double twist. The first had me yelling at the screen. The second was so shocking I audibly exclaimed, “Okay, that’s AWESOME.” Writer-director-producers 
You immediately fantasize about all the fun things you would do together. There’s an undeniably brilliant poker scene. But things get weird, and Clay has second thoughts about helping Whit for eternity. The chemistry between Whitmer Thomas and director Clay Tatum is otherworldly. Pun intended. They make awkward endearing.
The script, penned by our two leads, might seem straightforward at first but do not get comfortable with the buddy comedy genre. The Civil Dead goes in a direction I did not see coming, though, in retrospect, I should have. From hilarious to shockingly dark, the film tackles loneliness in a brutally honest way. This one is going to haunt you in the best way possible.
It’s the summer of 1948 in Redhook, Brooklyn, and the Trouth family exists in quiet peace until Louis Jr. appears after years away. Old wounds have festered, and now he’s back for revenge. Guilt is his weapon. Well, that and a unique knife with a Turkish inscription belonging to younger brother Charles. BRUTAL SEASON is like an immersive theater experience on film. This slow-burn thriller is not what I expected, in all the right ways.
Performances across the board are stellar. One is particularly inescapable. The subtle manipulation Houston Settle brings into the fray, you know he’s up to no good. Jr.’s bitterness is palpable. His passive-aggressive nature turns vicious. 
There’s no denying that BRUTALSEASON has a similar energy to 
The townspeople are religious fanatics, believing María José triggered the apocalypse years ago with the birth of her son. Exacerbated by nosy neighbors, weak church figureheads, and zealots with a modicum of power, fear takes hold when little Lucía appears to use supernatural powers in gruesome acts of revenge. Everyone Will Burn culminates in a violent confrontation that’s intensely rewarding as a genre fan. Do not move a muscle when the credits roll. The best moment is yet to come.
Macarena Gómez brings a manic energy to the films. Warranted by the emotional torture of everyone in her life, her deliberate descent into pure red hot chaos is glorious. As Lucía, Sofía García skillfully walks the line between vulnerable and terrifying. She is nothing short of captivating. Her chemistry with Macarena Gómez is perfection.
Bravo to the costume and lighting teams. The no holds bar fight choreography is shocking and applause-worthy. EVERYONE WILL BURN harkens back to classic European horror and still manages to remain fresh and fantastic.
The script tackles guilt, a longing for acceptance, prejudice, and a willingness to take a chance. The otherworldly score by Sebastián Zeluta is hypnotic. It’s a touch transcendent. The handheld camera work, particularly during emotionally wrought scenes between our two leads, is a specific and keenly impactful choice. It also highlights the progressing surreal chaos occurring along Peter’s journey.
Alone in a cruel near-future world, 13-year-old Vesper experiments with what’s left of her surroundings to nourish her and her paralyzed father. Abandoned by her mother, Vesper keeps Darius’ body alive with her bio-hacking skills and uploads his full consciousness into a small droid. While she and others suffer immensely, the wealthy exist in private, enclosed spaces called “Citadels.” They produce seeds that the remaining poor vie for to survive in the harsh environment. After someone sabotages their generator, she reaches out to her Uncle, the leader of a group that cultivates children’s blood for seed trade. When Vesper discovers a young woman from the nearby Citadel passed out in the woods, she imagines a way out. VESPER is a gorgeous film about control and climate change wrapped in a glorious sci-fi narrative. 
Rosy McEwan plays Camellia with a complex mix of yearning and practicality. She is a slick foil for Vesper. McEwan’s grace and control are all the more stunning when given the opportunity to break. Our titular role comes to life with the sensational performance of Raffiella Chapman. Her raw vulnerability jumps off the screen. There is no denying she is a star. Her ability to carry this film from beginning to end is a wonder. 
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