Due to the increasingly capitalistic nature of the film industry, director Charlotte Wells’ Aftersun (2022) is perhaps the most significant film to emerge in Scottish cinema in decades. Its tenderness is particularly poignant considering Scotland’s historically underrepresented status in film; a realistic depiction of life, culture and experience here plays a vital role in portraying Scotland and Scots globally. (I for one would rather be recognisable as Paul Mescal’s Callum than William Wallace.)
Aftersun makes interesting use of some of the principles of ‘kitchen sink drama’ to portray the life of a Scot more realistically. Emerging from post-war Italian neo-realistic cinema, ‘kitchen sink drama’ is when “writers from a less privileged social stratum set out to write about their backgrounds.” This makes an interesting point about the idea of Scotland in modern cinema having become synonymous with the working class experience – a positive change considering this makes up the majority of its population. In spite of this, it is also important to note that Charlotte Wells herself cannot be put into this ‘working class’ category, as someone who attended private school, the University of Oxford and New York University in succession. Her Scottish sentiment and experience nonetheless bleeds through in Aftersun in a way we can all enjoy.
The entire film is packed with small references that support the intense deja-vu which Wells attempts to give us. She herself has mentioned the Fanta Lemon scene, saying that “I did assume other people would connect with that aspect of it and I chose those details not because they were incredibly specific to me, but because they are shared.” Wells must recognise the inherent need for an audience to connect to a film by relating to it. She provides the Scottish audience with points of similarity between their own lives and hers. Aftersun is a personal expression but also a communication between the ordinary people of the world, of Scotland, and the ‘film’ as a concept. Wells shows us that our real stories, our ‘common’ experiences are just as interesting as multi-million dollar explosions and special effects.
With only a handful of other well-known Scottish films to choose from, Trainspotting (1996) wins the race. I find that the ‘Fanta Lemon’ scene in Aftersun interacts with Trainspotting very well; an older girl approaches Sophie and gives her the all-inclusive wristband, telling her she can have whatever she wants. As part of Sophie’s story’s climax, this fits into the narrative that ‘all you can eat’ is an aspiration. ‘Born Slippy’ plays in my head very loudly here, as the ‘choose life’ motto of Trainspotting comes into view. The film is bookended by two ‘choose life’ sequences, to illustrate the same idea of aspiration, and a ‘selfish’ desire to abandon your roots and have it all. The disparity between the first and second makes Mark Renton’s journey apparent – he begins with “I chose not to choose life.”, and ends with “I’m going to be just like you; the job, the family the fucking big television…” This is obviously an addiction recovery story, a constant and prevalent issue in Scottish society today. More broadly though, both films are fighting against the directionless Scottish-junkie-loser stereotype; one more overtly than the other, but Well’s reference to this idea in Aftersun was impactful and certainly did not go unnoticed.
Another scene that cannot go undiscussed in the relationship between Trainspotting, Aftersun and Scotland is the ‘It’s Shite Being Scottish’ scene. Here, as Renton spews his monologue, we see that the group’s Scottishness is almost an allegory for the unfortunate. This idea is particularly poignant when considering that a lot of Scottish media does focus on hardship – particularly realist Scottish media (Aftersun is no exception). An interesting detail of the ‘it’s shite being Scottish’ scene can be found in the way it is shot; the camera switches from Tommy and the mountain to the group themselves who are arranged in an imitation the mountain in reverse. This introduces the idea of the ‘great highland landscape’ and focus on an unrealistic portrayal of Scotland (cough cough, Braveheart, Outlander) in contrast with the people of Scotland and their lives, which both Trainspotting and Aftersun focus upon.
The concept of ‘The Land’ and its relationship to identity thus underlines that ‘people make Scotland’ and are integral to the accurate representation of cultures and communities in film. The idea that people and place aren’t inherently intertwined is clear in Aftersun, as its setting is abroad, following Callum and Sophie on holiday in Turkey. A scene worth noting here is the ‘once you leave where you’re from’ scene, which is crucial to the exploration of Callum as a Scotsman. He talks about “this feeling, once you leave where you’re from…you don’t totally belong there again.” We infer throughout that he struggles with this feeling of displacement and lack of identity. This feeling is enhanced by the fact we never see Callum at home – his location is new and fleeting. Callum’s relationship with Scotland is strained, as many restless young people’s are. That sense of relatability is threaded through these complex ideas again, and in this way we can allow ourselves to separate Scotland and Scottish-ness, placing one above the other. There is no doubt that Aftersun’s release has raised thoughts and provoked conversations of Scotland in film for many. I can only hope for more Scottish smash hits so that I might think up more reasons why our films are the best on Earth.
“Paul mescal 2022 1” by Quinzaine des Réalisateurs is licensed under CC BY 3.0.