11.2.24
Paul Mescal? Impressive dance club scenes? A cripplingly sad film about dead parents? Haven’t we been here before?
All of Us Strangers displays the fragility of memories of the past and the tenderness of moments in the present. Writer-director Andrew Haigh impressed me massively with 45 Years, and here he is with another hauntingly tender drama about Andrew Scott’s Adam; a gay man stuck in a life of solitude, probably not by choice. Paul Mescal also delivers a mesmerising, chameleonic performance so different from his more true-to-self performances in Normal People and Aftersun.
Although the film is supernatural in places and uses devices to obscure reality, it still feels grounded in emotional truth through its meditation on life in London and the awkwardness of a new relationship. Yet it also feels otherworldly and surreal in its attempt to reflect the trauma of lost parents and living with mental health issues from unresolved discussions.
Haigh should be celebrated for producing something so powerful, breathing life into simple and mundane yet loving exchanges, such as eating takeaway with the person you love while watching crap television shows. Even the unpleasantness of life, such as the agony of feeling that you can’t come out to your parents, becomes something phantasmic and soul-reaching. The dream vignettes shine with nuanced detail, while the musical cues and pop culture clips starkly evoke nostalgia for simpler times.
But in retrospect and criticism of the film’s ending, All of Us Strangers’ pervasive sorrow borders on unbearable, nearly too crushing for me to consider enjoyable or rewatchable. Though undeniably well-crafted, the film falters with a trite ending that left me wanting. A poignant burst of emotion for lost chances and squandered confessions that I cannot help but admire, even if all I wanted to do in the film’s final moments was to push myself away from it rather than let it wash over me.