As Isaac and I prepared for our Academy Award podcast episode, I decided to check out a few of the acting nominations, with Paul Mescal’s intriguing me the most since I’ve never seen anything he’s starred in. This meant I had to watch Aftersun, which has been described as a “coming-of-age drama” but is actually much harder to pin down. If I had to describe it, I’d call Aftersun a watercolor painting of childhood naiveté, or a snapshot that captures and evokes the emotions that emerge when musing on one’s memories. It’s a parable about the human spirit and how it inevitably evolves as we age. What it is not, though, is entertainment, and that’s perfectly fine.

Best actor nominee Paul Mescal plays Calum, a thirty-year-old father who takes his eleven-year-old daughter, Sophie (Frankie Corio) on a summer vacation to Turkey. That’s the framework of the story, but as I already hinted at, the story is merely a vessel for the art. In actuality, Aftersun is a series of ingeniously shot vignettes that mainly serve to encapsulate specific emotions. The easier ones, like happiness and sadness, are effortlessly captured. But so are the complicated ones, like guilt, love, resentment, and shame. I would love to go into detail about how Mescal, Corio, the cinematographer, and the director all work together to summon up such emotions, but then I’d run the risk of influencing your viewing experience. I’d rather you just watch it and feel whatever it makes you feel, good or bad.

Writer-director Charlotte Wells has expressed that her film is “emotionally autobiographical,” something that I wholeheartedly believe after watching it. You see, I basically experienced the same emotional journey being shown in Aftersun, enduring something similar when I was twelve, only one year older than the protagonist, Sophie. I know exactly what it’s like to go on a family vacation where everything’s beautiful and everyone around is happy, but there’s an unshakeable feeling that something is off. I’ve been the joyful child drifting through and occasionally colliding with the grim reality of our existence, the one that adults know so well about that they endeavor to shield their children from it for as long as possible. So yes, I understood Aftersun, and that’s certainly why it moved me to tears. But that doesn’t mean those unfamiliar with that experience won’t enjoy it, because there’s so much to enjoy here.

For instance, Frankie Corio is amazing as Sophie, who personifies happiness most of the time. Corio’s talent shines through in every scene, skillfully portraying a precocious girl whose adoration for her father is immense, but doesn’t prevent her from seeing his pain. It’s a performance that belies her age. Of course, there’s also Mescal, who’s actually 1B to Corio’s 1A, but just as important since he personifies sadness. At first, I didn’t understand all the hype surrounding his performance, but then I began to focus on his eyes and how they never fail to express his overriding emotion. Not once. The prowess it must’ve taken to stay so measured while in character… yes, he earned his nomination.

Also, you can’t discuss Aftersun without highlighting Gregory Oke’s incredible work as the cinematographer. He and Wells positioned the cameras in very imaginative ways, crafting shots that constantly surprised me in their boldness but also in how they amplified the emotion. Normally filmmakers use their cameras to trick viewers into looking where they want them to look, but that’s not always the case here. In fact, I found that the more I examined the fringes, the more I understood the picture. And as I said before, the whole film is like a painting, with mild but stunning colors that bolster the sustained shots of nature. This is a movie that takes full advantage of the “pictures” part of “motion pictures.” It reminded me of the visual power of this art form, and how it’s possible for images alone, separate from actors and everything else, to have a lasting impact. As much as Mescal deserved his Oscar nomination, Oke might’ve deserved one more.

Another thing to savor is the film’s soundtrack, which cleverly utilizes a number of classic singles to clarify unsaid moments of the narrative. When Sophia sings R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion” during karaoke night, or when Calum and Sophia share a dance to Queen and David Bowie’s “Under Pressure,” it all means something. What exactly? Well, I encourage you to watch the film and ponder it yourself. In any case, the way they incorporate music into Aftersun is another example of deft filmmaking.

All this being said, I wouldn’t blame someone who finds little of value in this movie. The “coming-of-age” story is there, but it’s sandwiched between stretches of artful reflection. Wells doesn’t mind just letting the camera linger while someone sleeps or smokes a cigarette, so much so that even I, a fan of Aftersun, found myself thinking “get on with it” on occasion. In addition to that, a lot of what’s shown is meant to portray how memories are often augmented with fabrications of the mind. When we don’t remember something, we fill in the gaps. I appreciated this aspect of the film, but I still found it fairly jarring. Essentially, I’m saying that by design, Aftersun is not a piece of entertainment; it’s art. Was I bored at times? Sure, but one can be bored and moved at the same time. Those things are not mutually exclusive, but I understand why many filmgoers think they are.

As I wrap up, I find myself asking this question: would I watch Aftersun again anytime soon? As I previously pointed out, it hit home for me in a big way, so I’m not exactly giddy at the prospect of a rewatch. But now, after truly dwelling on it, I do intend to watch it again soon. Sure, maybe I’ll find it suffocatingly poignant again, but I’m willing to risk that because it’s just so damn well-made. And I’m certain that I’ll pick up on things that I may have missed during my first viewing, a prospect that excites the film buff in me. In many ways, it seems as if Aftersun was made specifically for me, but that’s a side effect of ambiguous, emotional art like this. I encourage you to watch it and allow yourself to feel and consider whatever arises inside you. If you do, then you might walk away thinking it was made for you too.

If I had to score it, I’d give Aftersun a 9/10.