There’s a quieting, calming atmosphere to Supernova that is terribly immersive. Most of it is set in the English countryside, the Lake District specifically, and following two characters with a long and storied history together that requires no comment. So the restfulness of their environment and their tranquil journey sweeps over you, the mood downright elegiac. The Lake District is beautiful and seemingly ancient, it’s no wonder it inspired Wordsworth so. And it is the perfect setting for a story about lovers who do not have much time left.
The narrative itself is a bit on the shallow side, Stanley Tucci playing a famed astronomer and author Tusker, coping with early onset dementia that is tended to by his long-time partner Sam, a former concert pianist played by Colin Firth. The pair are on a camper van pilgrimage through the north of England to a final performance of Sams’, orchestrated by Tusker with the assistance of Sams’ family in the area. The film is the second contemplative English road movie from Harry Macqueen, after his previous indie debut Hinterland in 2015. Macqueen’s fondness for the pensiveness of the journey and the geography is palpable. It goes hand in hand with the melancholy following the two characters. Macqueens’ gift for atmosphere is inviting, as is his subdued approach to the central relationship, the longevity and depth of which is communicated through gestures and objective physical intimacy over dialogue and expository information. These do a lot more of the heavy lifting than the drama.
Supernova is a movie about love and accepting loss, particularly an impending loss, as is the case of Tusker’s mental faculties. It draws attention to Tuskers’ forgetfulness of words or stories, an early incident where he wanders off on his own with the dog scaring Sam a great deal –there are suggestions the once prodigious scientific writer is losing his ability to read. They are the kind of things movies about dementia often tend to fixate on, and so apart from a level of secrecy to its’ severity, the films’ image of the disease isn’t particularly striking –it’s only the conversation around it that is; one that is loaded with a kind of tempered misery, at least until the climax when it surfaces full on.
There are a lot of heavy and complex emotions at bay until then though, from both Tusker and Sam, though the former has come to terms with them and the latter (unsurprisingly the British of the two) has not. And Tucci and Firth are both quite good. Notwithstanding the fact that once again a movie has chosen to cast straight actors as its’ gay characters, in spite of there being equivalent gay performers who could have played the parts just as well if not better, both men here are very committed to conveying a long and loving relationship. They are in some ways representative of stereotypes of the privileged, cultured gay man in their social and occupational backgrounds -set in a metropolitan environment I think the film would have been less engaging. But there’s enough humanity in the writing and that the actors bring to the parts that it doesn’t make a difference their social class. Tucci’s thoughtfulness and dry humour is really charming, and the scenes where he encourages the intellectual curiosity of Sams’ niece are wonderful. Firth plays the more uptight partner, who’s not doing a good job hiding his trepidation over Tuskers’ mental health, and this emotionally overwrought performance is intense, even moving, as he’s made to confront uncomfortable truths and an uncertain future. He carries himself at times as though he’s already lost the love of his life, at least when he’s not in full nurturing mode. The movie and Tusker understand this isn’t healthy for the relationship, and especially for Sam, as dedicated as he may be to going to all this trouble to care for Tusker. And it’s a very powerful, very passionate conversation they ultimately have about it that I think is important for people dealing with a similar ailment in a loved one to hear.
Simplicity and minimalism I think help the film a lot. Supernova doesn’t necessarily have a lot of stretches of meditative silence or anything, but there’s an innate casual sensibility on display; from the little party Tusker throws for Sam and the interactions with the various folks there, to the routine recorded interviews Sam conducts with Tusker that seem to be an exercise in the latters’ cognitive treatment, to their subtle attitudes in the last act at a quaint B&B off the beaten path. It’s all got an air of if not exactly naturalism, than a believable unremarkable quintessence -a very humble state of living, both banal and alluring. But then the accountability of that aforementioned regional atmosphere can’t be understated. It provokes introspection, especially as a backdrop for such solitude as is seen at the end.
Supernova is not a title that terribly fits the film. It may have been a metaphor Tusker touched on with Sams’ niece while stargazing, but not a particularly memorable or cogent one. In more ways than this, its’ apparent this is a movie by a filmmaker still early into his career, convinced there may be more profundity to his film than it exhibits. And yet Supernova does have some of that, as it contemplates grief and loss pertaining to a meaningful romance set to a tone that richly encourages such deliberation; but it is also just a solemn, semi-tragic love story about a couple dealing with and sharing in the burden of an awful disease. That alone is in its’ own way exceptional.
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/JordanBosch
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Jordan_D_Bosch
Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/jbosch/
Comments
Post a Comment