One casualty of sorts of the sheer strength-in-depth of the films that have been released in the last couple of months is Andrew Haigh’s All of Us Strangers – it seems to be doing solid box office considering it could be considered a slightly niche-y arthouse take on a genre movie, but when it comes to the big awards the American academy have clearly been looking elsewhere, while at the BAFTAs it seems to have been squeezed out by The Zone of Interest, amongst others. For a movie which has received such rapturous reviews, this must be just a little bit disappointing.
The film is based on a Japanese novel from the 1980s by Taichi Yamada, which has in fact already been adapted in its home country. Andrew Scott gets what feels like a rare leading role as Adam, a screenwriter living a quiet life in present-day London. He seems withdrawn and cautious of other people – when Harry (Paul Mescal), the only other person living in his apartment building (it has recently been completed), makes overtures of friendship, he rejects him.
Adam’s current project is based on memories of his own childhood, which is clearly stirring up some deep emotions for him. One day he travels out to the suburbs where he lived as a child, tracking down his old house – it seems oddly unchanged from the photo he has brought with him. Haigh’s direction is in many ways a masterclass in subtlety and understatement and his handling of what follows is superbly done – living in the house are a couple (Jamie Bell and Claire Foy), who – it gradually becomes clear – are his parents, despite the fact they are visibly rather younger than he is. Clearly Adam is revisiting his past in more ways than one.
Strangers, Yamada’s original novel, is apparently much more of a traditional genre piece, with the protagonist facing jeopardy as his relationship with the phantoms of his parents develops. All of Us Strangers modulates this somewhat, using the fantastical premise as a way of exploring different ideas. I’m really not sure how much to say without spoiling the film – this is a story of character and emotion rather than plot and incident – and I suppose there is, on some level, a built-in ambiguity about what’s actually going on in the film – are the ghostly parents objectively real on some level (has Adam physically slipped back into the past somehow?) or is it all somehow happening in his imagination?
It’s deeply ambiguous and I imagine some people who like to have the details of plots firmly bolted down may take against the film for that reason – I went to see it with my co-spousal unit, who is very much from the firmly-bolted-plot school of thought, and she said the lack of clarity as what’s actually going on impeded her enjoyment of the film to a considerable degree. Personally I thought it wasn’t that big a deal; this is a personal, introspective piece of work, with the entire film essentially reflecting Adam’s subjective perception of events. The whole issue of whether what happens is ‘real’ or not thus doesn’t really matter – as far as he’s concerned it is real, and this is all that matters.
I imagine most people will accept the premise almost without noticing it, anyway, as the performances from Scott, Foy and Bell are so immediately convincing and credible. There are a lot of heavyweight emotional issues just waiting to be stirred up in any story dealing with these kinds of themes – childhood, one’s relationship with family, loneliness, grief and closure – and the film does them justice while still maintaining a fairly light touch.
At some points in the past one could probably have argued that some elements of the film – Adam is gay and eventually begins a relationship with Harry – render it something of a niche or ghetto concern. Perhaps that isn’t the case any more – the good reviews have probably helped, and the screening I attended was what I would describe as a general audience. And it does add something to the film, I think: changes in attitudes and lifestyle do inform the story, Adam discovering that coming out to his mum’s ghost isn’t appreciably easier than doing it while she was alive. The juxtaposition made possible by the fantasy conceit of the movie really does make the social changes of the last thirty years more tangible.
This isn’t what you’d call an issue movie, though – it feels first and foremost like a piece of storytelling and nothing else. I never really know just how to praise the work of actors without running the risk of coming across as precious or pretentious – what we’re really talking about is just the production of human behaviour not rooted in objective reality, so praise is essentially just saying that they convincingly appear to be someone they’re not. Well, all four members of the cast here do that, with the addendum that they often find ways to do so which are simultaneously authentic but also surprising and moving. This is one of the strongest films, in acting terms, that I can recall. This work occurs inside a notably well-directed film which manages to combine vividly beautiful imagery with an almost impressionistic approach to space and time. Here again the question of what is real arises, as Scott drifts from one scene to the next; the thread of the story remains intact throughout, however. Haigh makes intelligent use of the soundtrack, too – possible recipients of the same kind of boost which Saltburn gave to Murder on the Dancefloor could well be Frankie Goes To Hollywood’s The Power of Love and Blur’s Death of a Party, both of which are deployed to great effect.
Quite often a film comes along that’s a critical darling and I find myself watching it and going, hmm, yes, I can see why people have enjoyed this – without feeling any particular personal connection to it. All of Us Strangers, however, did touch me; it’s a profoundly moving and consistently beautiful film about, to be honest, all the important things in life. Films like this are precious and deserve to be celebrated.