“Memories are small islands in a sea of forgetting”, writes Astrid Erll in the introduction of Memory and Culture, a foundational reading on memory studies given to me in class just two weeks ago. We forget more than we remember. Blue Heron is a poignant film that explores the very limitations of one's memories through the story of a Hungarian-Canadian family coming to terms with their troubled teen. Directed by Sophy Romvari, it is also nominated in the Bright Horizons Competition at the Melbourne International Film Festival this year, which aims to celebrate up-and-coming first- and second-time filmmakers for their craft and achievements.

Blue Heron follows a young woman, Sasha, as she grapples with the gaps in her childhood memories, particularly the ones revolving around her oldest brother. In the first half of the movie, we enter the world of eight-year-old Sasha in her family’s new home in Canada in the 1990s. As we immersed ourselves in her hazy, almost rose-tinted memories of her parents and three brothers, we also observe through the eyes of the child the cracks forming within their seemingly idyllic home. Happy memories of blissful summers at the beach and cooking in the kitchen with her mother all appear to be interrupted and tainted by the erratic, disruptive behaviours of her oldest brother Jeremy. We are presented with a family hanging on to any semblance of normalcy, while their parents are completely out of their depth on how to deal with their son who is not only a danger to himself, but also to those around him. These scenes are reminiscent of old home videos one would find forgotten in storage units only to be unearthed again in the future. Laced with bittersweet nostalgia, it felt like we were stepping in memories that can never be totally relived or replicated again. 

In the second half of the film, we meet Sasha twenty years later as an adult, sifting through her childhood memories to make sense of the anger and grief she feels towards her brother. It is in this latter act that the purpose and drive behind the film becomes clear. In one of its most impactful scenes, Romvari skillfully blurs the lines between memory and reality as Sasha revisits the recollections of her childhood, returning to the momentous day when a social worker came into their home and advised their parents to give up Jeremy for foster care. Sasha combs through her memories to find answers and solace for what happened to her brother, travelling back in time only to be emotionally confronted by the unforgiving past.

Despite the antagonistic role the audience might’ve expected Jeremy’s character to play, Blue Heron’s depiction of the troubled teen was surprisingly empathetic. Edik Beddoes (who we learn in the post-screening Q&A with the director that he was street-casted with no prior experiences in acting!) plays Jeremy with a kind of quiet intensity, delivering a magnetic performance that attracts the attention of the audience even in scenes when his character wasn’t actively causing trouble. Rather than villainising his rebellious behaviour, the film presents him as a boy plagued by his internal struggles. We were allowed small glimpses of Jeremy's sweet and sensitive side; and the stark juxtaposition between heartwarming interactions with his siblings and moments of his distressing actions only makes the film the more bittersweet and devastating. 

Blue Heron first piqued my interest when I saw people’s comparisons of its exploration of the trickiness of memory with Charlotte Wells’s Aftersun (2022). However, my expectations for the film ultimately impeded on my enjoyment as I did not emotionally connect with the film as much as I thought I would. While I really liked the innocent and nostalgic cinematographic feel of the childhood memories in the first half, I wasn’t sure what to make of the adult timeline of the movie. As the film concludes, Sasha comes to accept the flaws and contradictions in her memory, coming to terms with how there is nothing she can do to mend the turmoil of her childhood. The ending of Blue Heron offers barely any catharsis or resolution, and I left the cinema feeling a bit frustrated by its lacklustre conclusion. But, in searching for a satisfying ending, I was missing the entire point of the film. Blue Heron boldly confronts the limitations of memory and shows that it may never fully answer our questions about the past. Perhaps the best way to honour those memories is to accept them as what they are, regardless of how slippery and imperfect they may be. 

With Blue Heron as her debut feature-length film, Sophy Romvari’s career is off to a promising start, and I am excited to see what introspective and provocative projects she will create next!

BLUE HERON will screen as part of the 74^th edition of the Melbourne International Film Festival on 18^th, 19^th and 20^th of August.