What is Aftersun? A Comprehensive Explanation of the Film’s Themes and Ending
Is Aftersun a Film or a Secret Society of Nostalgia Wizards?
Let’s get this straight: *Aftersun* isn’t just a movie. It’s a time-traveling emotional carwash disguised as a father-daughter vacation. Directed by Charlotte Wells, this film wraps existential dread in the cozy aesthetic of a ‘90s home video. The plot? A woman named Sophie reminisces about a holiday with her dad, Calum, when she was 11. But here’s the twist: it’s less about sunscreen and karaoke, and more about memory’s unreliable Wi-Fi signal. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll question if that poolside scene was a metaphor or just a really artsy way to film chlorine.
Themes: Like a Rubik’s Cube Soaked in Melancholy
The film juggles themes like:
- Parental Limbo: Calum isn’t just a dad—he’s a human shrug in cargo shorts, oscillating between “cool parent” and “I might cry into this piña colada.”
- Memory’s Blurry VHS Tape: Sophie’s recollections are less “HD documentary” and more “a camcorder haunted by the ghost of unresolved feelings.”
- The Elephant in the Resort: Mental health, but it’s wearing sunglasses and pretending to read a magazine by the pool.
It’s like if *The Shining* took a Xanax and went to a karaoke bar.
The Ending: Did I Miss the Memo or Was That a Metaphor?
Without spoilers (we’re not monsters), the ending is the cinematic equivalent of a Magic 8-Ball answering in interpretive dance. Flashbacks, strobe lights, and a haunting use of Queen’s *Under Pressure* collide to ask: *Can we ever truly know our parents—or ourselves?* The film leaves you with more questions than a toddler at a quantum physics lecture, but in a way that feels…weirdly satisfying. Like eating a popsicle made of tears and ’90s Europop.
Aftersun Explained: Breaking Down the Hidden Meanings, Symbolism, and Emotional Impact
The Sunburned Subtext: SPF 50 for Your Soul
Let’s start with the obvious: the title. Aftersun isn’t just a lotion you slap on after forgetting to reapply sunscreen (we’ve all been there). It’s a metaphor for soothing the emotional burns we collect over time. The film’s vacation setting? A masterclass in juxtaposition—turquoise pools vs. murky emotional depths, pineapple cocktails vs. the bitter aftertaste of unresolved dad issues. Even the TV in their hotel room becomes a silent character, flickering with grainy home videos that whisper, “Hey, remember when life was simpler? No? Cool, cool.”
Karaoke, Catharsis, and the Art of Repressing Feelings
The film’s “fun” moments are Trojan horses for existential dread. Take the karaoke scene: Calum (Paul Mescal) belts out *R.E.M.*’s “Losing My Religion” like a man who’s also losing his grip on fatherhood, midlife, and the ability to adult. Meanwhile, young Sophie (Frankie Corio) watches, blissfully unaware she’s starring in a future therapy session. The symbolism here is thicker than sunscreen on a toddler:
- The camcorder: A relic of the ‘90s, capturing memories while subtly asking, “But what’s the point of remembering?”
- The empty pool: A metaphor for emotional availability (or lack thereof). Dive in, the water’s *fine*—if “fine” means “existential jet lag.”
That Ending: David Bowie and the Strobe Light of Existential Clarity
The final scene—a strobe-lit, slow-motion dance to “Under Pressure”—is either a profound meditation on generational trauma or the result of someone asking, “What if we made a film feel like a 3 a.m. existential crisis?” The flashing lights aren’t just a rave throwback; they’re the chaotic flicker of memory itself, illuminating Calum’s smile like a pool floatie you cling to before realizing it’s deflating. It’s the kind of emotional gut-punch that leaves you Googling “how to process art” while humming Bowie in the shower.
And there you have it: a film that’s less about a holiday and more about the baggage we never unpack. Pass the aloe vera.
