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| Writer/director Sophy Romvari |
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| director on the set |
BLUE HERON B Hungary Canada (90 mi) 2025 d: Sophy Romvari
What drew me to this film, awarded the best debut feature at Locarno and best Canadian feature at the Toronto Film Fest, was the locale, having been to Vancouver Island in the Pacific Northwest, surprisingly at the exact same time frame in the late 90’s as the film, before the prevalence of cellphones and GPS, where one of the highlights was the abundance of indigenous art to be found, especially in the galleries of the small town of Tofino on the western coast, where the ruggedness of the terrain and the enormous Douglas Fir and cedar trees is nothing less than remarkable, growing three times faster near salmon rivers that enrich the soil, while also attracting thousands of eagles and grizzly bears, creating a harmonious blend of nature and wildlife. This film, however, ignores that entirely and takes place mostly in the urban environment of Nanaimo on the eastern coast overlooking the Georgia Straight, just a ferry’s ride away from Vancouver, though, as is often the case in films, much of it was actually shot in North Vancouver. Not to be confused with Miyazaki’s The Boy and the Heron (Kimitachi wa dô ikiru ka) (2022), this is actually more along the lines of Lynne Ramsay’s We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011), or Jane Campion’s Sweetie (1989), but without the artistic firepower, featuring a morose, acutely disturbed teenage boy wreaking emotional havoc on his family, yet initially he just seems like any other moody, disaffected, and self-absorbed teenage kid whose anti-social rebelliousness manifests itself by inappropriately acting out, creating chaos out of nothing, drawing attention to himself and those around him, straining the family dynamic, yet he’s never viewed as a villain, always perceived as just a kid who’s also capable of displaying moments of tenderness. Loosely diagnosed with “oppositional defiant disorder,” literally rebelling against authority, yet this barely scratches the surface, as intervention fails miserably, leaving the parents in despair, having to deal with an underlying anxiety that permeates their core existence, but leaving them feeling helpless by knowing so little about it, which is only magnified by the children’s inability to understand, knowing something is wrong but not knowing what to do about it, as there was limited knowledge and few available resources to address this kind of situation at the time, eventually recommending placement with a foster family, which lingers like a death in the family. In reality, Romvari lost two older brothers in early adulthood, both struggling with mental illness, tragedies that may have inspired this film, forged out of grief and love. Written by the director, shot by Maya Bankovic, subtly told from the point of view of a young 8-year old girl, Sasha (Eylul Guven), she is part of a Hungarian-Canadian family of six who move to British Columbia’s Vancouver Island in the late 90’s, where initially nothing out of the ordinary occurs, establishing a natural rhythm and flow, as characters move in and out of view as we get accustomed to the normal patterns of life, with an introverted photographer husband (Ádám Tompa) who mostly stays out of the fray by burying himself in work on his desktop computer, leaving a beleaguered mother (Iringó Réti) with way too much responsibility looking after the children on her own, leaving her frustrated, at her wit’s end, and emotionally exhausted. He notably does bring the children into the dark room to develop photographs, as they watch with wonderment at what feels like magic when the images suddenly appear out of nothing.
As we are lured into their familiar routines, going to the beach, watching cartoons or National Geographic animal episodes, making paper boats in the sink, playing in the sprinkler outside on the lawn, inflating water balloons, spraying one another with the garden hose, or jumping on the trampoline, no one personality stands out, but the oldest teenage boy Jeremy (Edik Beddoes), the only child born from the mother’s previous relationship, is much older and towers over the other children, consisting of two boys about the same age as Sasha, but as time goes on he gets to be a handful, never listening to his parents, ignoring them completely while acting suspiciously as his behavior grows more erratic, becoming increasingly dangerous, precariously walking on the roof, breaking windows with his hand, disappearing frequently for long periods of time, remaining aloof and isolated, barely ever uttering a word, with no interactions and no friends to speak of, mostly keeping to himself, viewed at the time as a “problem child,” a loaded expression from the 90’s. Loosely based on her own immigrant experience, drawing upon her own family life, as her parents and three brothers all moved from Hungary to British Columbia a year before she was born, the director has been making short documentaries since 2011 before making her first feature, which enlarges the canvas, yet there’s an understated quietness to the film, filled with distance and space between incidents, where it’s not about narrative coherence but establishing an interior mood in a diary-like series of reflections on childhood memories where she literally bears her soul, shining a light on what was the elephant in the room growing up. Featuring a “haze of a languid summer” atmosphere, reminiscent of Lucrecia Martel’s LA CIÉNAGA (2001), heavily emphasizing silence, ambient sound, and the emotional weight of memory, we follow the parents struggling to understand, not knowing what to do, yet we also get glimpses of reality through the eyes and ears of Sasha, whose own innocence is mixed with instability and uncertainty, where beauty and trauma exist side by side, as she starts to notice cracks in her family’s dynamics as they struggle to help their troubled teenage son, Clip Blue Heron subtitulado YouTube (1:21). While there’s an ominous undertone beneath the placid surface, what remains questionable is whether this film is too distanced, never really allowing viewers in, so the characters may feel too far away to become emotionally invested. Given that amount of personal intimacy, however, one of the scenes that stands out is a poignant, magical-realist epilogue toward the end of the film, a “last day” scenario within the childhood home for Jeremy, scored to the hauntingly elegant Adagio movement of Beethoven’s 5th piano concerto, Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-Flat Major, Op. 73: II. Adagio un ... YouTube (9:23), offering a sense of grandeur to the uncomfortable, allowing for a poetic reckoning with a family’s painful history, which elevates the moment, remaining imprinted in our imaginations, revealing art can provide additional perspectives, but not answers. Only late in the film do we learn that Jeremy is a unique artist, with precise, color-coded, architectural-detailed drawings that map city neighborhoods, literally exploring a subjective artistic world rarely, if ever, featured.
Thematically linked to Romvari’s short film Still Processing (2020), an extended artistic inquiry into her own family history, something she describes as “memory retrieval,” in this case concerning a brother with profound emotional and mental health problems, music is curated to reflect a haunting evocative score and personal nostalgia, as if sourced from her father’s home videos. Despite the personal nature of the film, it never feels forced, and instead reflects the fragmented memories of lived experiences, where it feels as if information is intentionally concealed from us, leaving only small snippets of a larger picture, where it’s easy to get caught up in the simple pleasures of growing up in the pre-cellphone, pre-internet 90’s, balancing the concerned viewpoints of the parents against the freewheeling style of the children, where playing with the sprinkler in the yard holds a certain nostalgic fascination, but then a more distressing situation occurs when Jeremy is brought home in handcuffs by the police for shoplifting, Clip 2 Blue Heron subtitulado YouTube (1:45), opening our eyes to a distress signal, a cry for help, which largely goes unanswered, as therapy sessions are unsuccessful. But then something radically strange occurs, as the entire movie gets re-contextualized, growing more experimental, knocking the audience off-balance, which is a daring move, with the film jumping ahead twenty years, where time literally collapses, without any hints or reveals other than the use of cellphones are prevalent. Suddenly we see Sasha as an adult (Amy Zimmer), though nothing informs us of this shift, as she’s taken an interest in exploring this earlier segment of her life that she couldn’t understand at the time, becoming both an observer and participant within her own memories, thoughtfully searching for a bridge between our experiences growing up and our reflections looking back on it, exploring her father’s photographs and videos, always filming what she discovers. Searching for a better understanding of her troubled brother, specifically interested in how treatment programs may have advanced in evaluating Jeremy’s condition, she films the opinions of actual psychologists and therapists, yet it remains ambiguous right to the end, revealing in an opening voiceover, “It’s true I spent most of my life being angry at him. The older I get, the more I feel like I never even knew him at all. My image of him now, I know, falls flat compared to reality.” Clearly wrestling with something that cannot be fully understood, never providing any clear answers, yet always remaining empathetic, Romvari uses a pseudo-documentary style of filmmaking to pay an elegiac tribute to her brother’s life, veering into Terrence Malick 2011 Top Ten Films of the Year #1 The Tree of Life realms with the expansive music of Brian Eno, Brian Eno - An Ending (Ascent) (Remastered 2019) YouTube (4:21), which plays as an adult Sasha is seen walking along the water with the Jeremy of her youth, literally becoming the filmmaker the director has become before our eyes, but never directly making that connection, instead it’s merely hinted at through poetic imagery. In this sense, the film bears a remarkable resemblance to the visual language and evocative time shift at the end of Charlotte Wells’ 2023 Top Ten List #7 Aftersun, as both films weave memory and imagination into attempts to understand a family member that remains forever outside our grasp. The director, on Letterboxd, listed a number of films of influence, Films that influenced Sophy Romvari's 'Blue Heron', many of which reflect a 1970’s naturalism, home movie aesthetics, and intimate family dramas, citing the performance-driven focus of John Cassavetes, the zoom lens usage of Robert Altman, and personal, nostalgic memory-focused work, with her parents’ own creative backgrounds and home videos deeply shaping her style. Interestingly, after each night of production she’d read at least one chapter of Ray Carney’s 2001 book Cassavetes On Cassavetes. There’s also an Éric Rohmer Le Rayon Vert (Summer) (1986) magical moment with a flashing light image seen near the end (purely unintentional, it seems) that adds a mysterious presence, like a call from beyond, or a land of twilight, as if part of the netherworld of Carl Theodor Dreyer’s VAMPYR (1932).
Sophy Romvari's Closet Picks Criterion YouTube (3:43)
