All of Us Strangers (2023)

All of Us Strangers isn’t a film that throws a punch; it’s a slow burn, a poignant waltz with grief and the ghosts of what could have been. Andrew Scott, as the introverted screenwriter Adam, navigates a London shrouded in quiet melancholy, punctuated by chance encounters with his charismatic neighbor, Harry (Paul Mescal). Their connection sparks a journey back to Adam’s childhood home, where a chilling anomaly awaits: his parents, alive and well, as if frozen in time on the day they died thirty years ago.

The film’s historical context, nestled at the tail end of the 2020s, feels almost irrelevant. This is a story about universal emotions, about the lingering ache of loss and the desperate longing for closure. It’s a tapestry woven with threads of magical realism, but the true magic lies in the raw, unfiltered performances.

Scott is a master of conveying unspoken depths; his Adam is a man haunted by regrets and unspoken truths. He crumbles and rebuilds himself before our eyes, every scene tinged with a vulnerability that’s both heartbreaking and strangely magnetic. Mescal, on the other hand, is a whirlwind of energy, his Harry a foil to Adam’s introspective stillness. Their dynamic is a study in contrasts, but the chemistry between them is undeniable.

Director Andrew Haigh crafts a haunting atmosphere, using muted colour palettes and soft focus to create a dreamlike quality. The score, a minimalistic, melancholic blend of piano and strings, perfectly complements the film’s emotional tenor. The cinematography is understated, lingering on faces and capturing the quiet beauty of everyday moments.

But All of Us Strangers isn’t just about pretty visuals and poignant performances. The plot, while initially intriguing, falters in the second half. The explanation for the time anomaly feels rushed and somewhat unsatisfying, leaving some lingering questions unanswered. The pacing, too, becomes uneven, with some scenes dragging and others feeling rushed.

The dialogue, however, is often sharp and insightful, filled with lines that resonate. One scene, where Adam confronts his younger self, is a masterclass in emotional vulnerability, while another, where he finally opens up to Harry about his past, is both tender and heartbreaking.

This film won’t leave you with a clear-cut resolution or a tidy emotional payoff. Like life itself, it’s messy, ambiguous, and ultimately deeply human. It’s a film that lingers—a haunting half-light that invites contemplation and introspection.

If you’re looking for a cerebral, emotionally-charged film that delves into the depths of grief and the complexities of human relationships, then All of Us Strangers is worth a watch. Just be prepared to embrace the ambiguity and the lingering questions. It’s a film that won’t spoon-feed you answers, but one that might just leave you with a renewed appreciation for the precious fragility of life and the enduring power of love, even in the face of loss.

(In cinemas — check your local movie guide for show times.)