All Those Lonely, Lonely Times
Film
One night, screenwriter Adam, in his near-empty tower block in contemporary London, has a chance encounter with his mysterious neighbor Harry that punctures the rhythm of his everyday life. As Adam and Harry get closer, Adam is pulled back to his childhood home where he discovers that his long-dead parents are both living and look the same age as the day they died over 30 years ago.
My screening of All of Us Strangers can be included within a small cohort of films where it felt like everyone around me was crying as the credits rolled. And not just 'crying' crying, but that 'slow to get up from your chair' kind of crying. The kind of crying where you just need to sit there for a few more minutes as your soul gradually re-enters your body after it thinks about leaving and never coming back. The kind of cinematic emotional overdose that cuts a little too deep and you start to wonder why you feel like you're trying to recover from a real-life wound. It's a rare gift to watch something that affects you and those around you so profoundly.
In my movie-going life, I can only remember that happening a few times. Well, to be fair, I'm not necessarily one to go see emotionally-triggering and cut-your-heart-out-in-the-middle-of-the-theater films in a public space (I prefer to cry in the privacy of my home on the comfort of my own couch while housing an entire tube of Sour Cream and Onion Pringles thank you very much). I remember (brace yourselves for what will certainly be an extreme exaggeration) every theatre kid who I went to Les Misérables with back in 2012 ugly-crying without any guardrails or sense of one's self (I'm talking feverish nose-blowing, excessive hiccupping, and breathless hyperventilating) during the "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables" sequence (and during "I Dreamed a Dream" and during "One Day More" and during the "Epilogue," so you know the whole movie). That was a memorable if not still strange experience. Another time I remember the entire theater weeping was throughout Manchester by the Sea, but particularly those few brutal scenes in the middle and the gut-wrenching scene near the end (if you've seen the film, you know which ones I'm talking about). Seeing that with a crowd full of retirees for a Thursday afternoon matinee made for another unforgettable showing. There was a similar vibe in the audience by the end of The Iron Claw, another 2023 movie that ironically I also watched at Music Box just one week or two ago (my goodness, that is a bit of masochistic post-holiday programming that I fully support).
Maybe even more so than these other films, All of Us Strangers affected me on that same sort of chemical and biological level. Written and directed by the severely underknown filmmaker Andrew Haigh, this British romantic fantasy film (as characterized by Wikipedia is adapted from the 1987 novel Strangers by Taichi Yamada. Calling it a romantic fantasy film is something of a misnomer considering the melancholic depths the film explores, but I'm not giving anything way by saying the film has fantastical elements that formally shapes its storytelling mechanics.
Which tees up my "there's no need for a spoilers aplenty" plug for this write-up, as there is no reason to discuss of the story whatsoever. Dissecting the details would only ruin the opportunity for someone else to go in with as little information as possible. And I am not about to be the 'he gave it away guy.' It's not necessarily a film dependent on its reveals and subsequent spoilers, but it is carefully assembled and deliberate in its delivery ways that knowing too much might unintentionally undermine or underwhelm how things are received. The narrative and character decisions Haigh makes aren't necessarily groundbreaking but the way he handles the storytelling is undoubtedly revelatory. There's a simplicity and briskness in the way the screenplay flows, but the material never feels rushed or exploitative. Everything is carefully rendered and technically impressive. Every heartstring that is plucked is intentional and in service to the overall look and feel of the film. Despite it being a somewhat airy and minimalist script, there is a distinct visual palette and mode of camerawork that is additive to the audience's understanding of the emotional stakes. I'm always impressed when a film this small can feel that massive in a way, and that is a credit to the conceptualization of the story and composition of the filmmaking.
The caliber of performances match the quality of filmmaking at work. Paul Mescal, Claire Foy, Jamie Bell, and Andrew Scott are all excellent. I'm hoping this film gets some real buzz during this year's awards circuit – not just so it picks up some accolades but for the exposure so people seek it out. Maybe this isn't great film analysis, but I believe All of Us Strangers is an important film with something meaningful to say, particularly because it is an LGBTQ middle-aged coming of age story about accumulated grief and loneliness as a destructive force. But still, nothing about it is overwrought, nor does it build in any caveats for its subjects or subject matter. The film is about someone saying goodbye or really, its about what happens to a person when they don't have a chance to say goodbye. It's about the would have, could have, should have moments in our lives and how difficult it can be to live with the burden of buried regrets and what-ifs. This is a tender, humanist lullaby told for those with broken hearts. Like I mentioned early, films like this are rare gifts.
