Aftersun

A woman in her early thirties sifts through camcorder footage from a Turkish resort holiday she took with her father when she was eleven, trying to assemble, from what the tape captured and what it missed, a picture of who he actually was. Charlotte Wells structures the film around that gap — between childhood perception and adult reckoning, between the footage that exists and the memories pressed against it — building a portrait less from event than from texture and accumulation. Paul Mescal and Frankie Corio play the pair with an ease that makes the distances between them legible without explanation. The formal method is ellipsis: what the film withholds does as much work as what it shows.