MASSIVE SPOILERS AHEAD FOR BLUE HERON
Surrendering is a hard thing for people to do. I genuinely think that's the biggest barrier between many people and experiencing unorthodox art. We're conditioned to always treat the world with suspicion. Anything odd is to be feared and deemed potentially dangerous. Thus, when folks are watching films and things take a turn for the formally unexpected, there can be an impulse to throw one's hands up and submit to cynicism. "Why are they singing?" "Why is everything so weird?" "Why are the characters doing that? That isn't logical!" These are the phrases one can utilize when confronted with something new or initially inexplicable. I swear, I'm not saying any of this from a high horse, I've been guilty of that in the past, too.
However, art that dares to upend expectations and do something unexpected should be treasured, not react with aloofness. The sensation of not knowing what's going on or why things are happening can be scary. But relinquish yourself to the art. Do not react to the unprecedented with cynicism, but rather curiosity. Surrender to your lack of control or knowledge. You'll discover great art in the process, including Blue Heron.
In this miracle movie from writer/director Sophy Ramvari, Sasha (Amy Zimmer as an adult, Eylul Given as a child) is constantly looking for answers or clarity on her tormented older brother Jeremy (Edik Beddoes). Eventually, her quest leads her to take a ferry and then drive to her childhood home (where Blue Heron's first half took place). Utterly riveted in my Angelika Dallas seat, I was convinced I knew what was happening next. Sasha was about to pull a "The House That Built Me" and return to her adolescent domicile. She'd wander around the space, probably inhabited by a new family, and see if any answers come to her while wandering the familiar halls.
Instead, Sasha gets to her childhood home's door, rings the front doorbell...and is greeted by her Father (Ádám Tompa) as he looked in the sequences set in Sasha's childhood. Adult Sasha introduces herself as a social worker and asks if she can come in. In an unexpected turn, Romvari is recreating an earlier Blue Heron scene where a social worker talked with Sasha's family, but now grown-up Sasha is playing this outside visitor. It took me a moment to realize what was going on and what a glorious experience that was. Romvari doesn't use ham-fisted narration or expository dialogue to clarify what's happening. That would disrupt the realism of the characters. Instead, Blue Heron maintains its understated dialogue approach and lets audiences come to epiphanies over what's going on in their own time.
From here, Sasha's quiet exploration of yesteryear is magnificently realized. In one extended single-take, Sasha (only seen via her hands) sees and gently holds Miss Mousey, her favorite childhood stuffed animal. Then, grown-up Sasha comes into the room where her adolescent self is watching TV with her three siblings (including Jeremy). The two Sashas sit together for a moment before the older member of the duo whispers something into the child's ear. Much like Sasha's expression as she holds Miss Mousey again, what's whispered here is kept away from the audience. That ambiguity works on multiple levels, including mirroring how concrete answers are often elusive when navigating our memories of the past.
After that, the scene concludes with Father and Mother (Iringó Réti) sitting down to talk with Sasha/the social worker about Jeremy and their struggles as parents. Finally, in this segment, Sasha can converse with her parents, a moment she could only hear through a closed door as a child. As the sequence ends, the lines between the past and present blur. At the end of this exchange between parents and social worker, adult Sasha begins relaying to her parents what will happen in the future. They will try to help Jeremy, but "you will lose yourselves." Shortly after, the camera cuts to Sasha watching this conversation from afar, with recurring cuts between young and old Sasha, depending on the shots.
This fateful day, when a social worker first firmly urged Jeremy to live in another home, is so rooted in Sasha's mind that it feels like it's happening right now. The past is the present when it comes to trauma.
This reality is vividly and distinctively rendered through this mesmerizing sequence that collides two points in time. The way such tremendously tear-inducing material is executed through the quietest material (like a grown woman softly picking up a familiar stuffed animal) is staggering. Best of all, this unforgettable Blue Heron scene didn't hold my hand. Instead, it capsized my expectations and gave me imagery I could never have dreamed of. Huzzah for movies that show faith in audiences and exhibit such potent filmmaking. This is the sort of artistry that makes Blue Heron such a towering and achingly powerful work.
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