Supernova (Harry Macqueen, 2020) follows Sam (Colin Firth) and Tusker (Stanley Tucci), partners of 20 years, as they travel in their campervan across England to the Lake District. On this trip, we see the couple process and adapt to Tusker’s early onset dementia.
I’ll be honest: I didn’t like the first half of this film. It felt strained and awkward, and the violin-laden soundtrack only emphasised the sheer amount of vacuous silences which occurred between Sam and Tusker’s lines. In the first 40-ish minutes of Supernova, there were countless narrative gaps which the viewer really didn’t have enough information to fill in – that is, without being acutely aware that they were watching a sequence of highly scripted and regulated actions performed by characters who didn’t really exist. This isn’t said to discredit the performances of Tucci and Firth, however. In my opinion, the actors work admirably to inspire empathy in the viewer against the disruptions and limitations produced by what feels like countless scene breaks, and a script which requires them to be predominantly sedentary. Ultimately, however, the Hollywood heavyweights can’t fully redeem the film’s opening vacuity: how could Tucci and Firth totally counteract the loaded tranquility of so many of the drama’s settings without talking so endlessly and senselessly as to spoil the film another way?
Fortunately, as the second half of the film progressed, it became easier to find some degree of spectatorial comfort through the introduction of an additional smattering of characters. The film’s secondary characters provided further insight into Sam and Tusker’s lives beyond the bounds of their relationship. We came increasingly to understand how Sam had found himself caught up in the duties of caring for his partner, and how Tusker’s awareness of this shift in their relationship’s dynamic had brought about further, radical change.
As I sat waiting for the film to start, I had thought about why the film is called Supernova. A tiny vestige of my knowledge from GCSE astronomy reminded me that, scientifically speaking, a supernova is an event which sees the final, brilliant decay of a star. About midway through the film, Tusker points out to his young niece-in-law (Nina Marlin) that all human beings are made of stardust. Whilst this scene is, when taken in context with the rest of the film’s lengthy presentation of stargazing, perhaps too unsubtle a reminder of the allegory unfolding in the action before us, it is, nevertheless, a powerful turning point in the drama which highlights the characters’ inability to prevent what seems to be tragically inevitable.
This dialogue between Tusker and his niece-in-law begins the film’s process of revealing what lay just beneath the silences of the first half. Others might see this revelation as beginning in Tusker’s assertion that: “You’re not supposed to mourn someone whilst they’re still alive.” Regardless of when you understand this watershed moment to take place however, I don’t think that it is possible to deny that there is one in this film.
The defining difference between the first and second halves of the film is the emergence of a new, more urgent form of honesty. It is precisely the lack of this honesty which produces the awkward silences in Sam and Tusker’s earlier interactions. Neither of the two men want to be the first to admit to the true desperation of Tusker’s situation to one another.
To elaborate further on the desperation of Tusker’s situation would be to ruin the film for you, and I don’t want to do that. Despite my initial assertions against the first half of the film, the second half had me silently weeping and renders the film more than worth a watch. All I will say, to whet your appetite further, is that Ruby, the couple’s dog, isn’t just there to look cute – though, she does do that well.
Supernova opens the Virgin Media Dublin International Film Festival on March 3. Coming soon to Irish cinemas.
