Mark Reviews Movies: SUNDOWN (2022)

Sundown, Bleecker Street

Follow on Facebook | Follow on Twitter | Become a Patron

Review by Mark Dujsik | January 27, 2022

Neil (Tim Roth), the protagonist of Sundown, begins as an entirely blank slate. We know little to nothing about him, and there's a reason. Writer/director Michel Franco uses this mystery as a way to play with our assumptions.

There are things we think we learn about Neil, as he and his family vacation in Acapulco, and our feelings about this man and his decisions seem wholly reasonable. When those are proven incorrect and/or unjustified, it's not our fault for not knowing, but it is, perhaps, our error for judging.

What we first see in this story seems pretty straightforward. Neil is on a boat, staring down at caught fish with a vacant stare. Is that look boredom? Is it simply a complete lack of emotion? In the aftermath of the character's most significant choice, we might start to think that, maybe, there's a bit of sympathy for the fish in that gaze. They were caught, and now, they're slowly suffocating. Neil understands that, and even if Franco only toys with and teases at the underlying reasons for the main character's own feelings of suffocation, he possesses them, regardless.

Anyway, Neil is in Acapulco, staying at a fancy resort with all of the amenities, entertainment, food, and booze that anyone could want. With him are Alice (Charlotte Gainsbourg), as well as two teenagers—Alexa (Albertine Kotting McMillan) and Colin (Samuel Bottomley). They are wealthy, to be sure, given the boat and the accommodations and their general attitude. The two teens refer to Alice as their mother, and the paternal way Neil has with the kids certainly makes a very specific impression. At least, that's how it seems.

Alice receives a phone call that, back home in London, her mother is ill and heading to the hospital. The family packs and gets in a shuttle from the hotel to the airport. On the way, Alice receives another call: Her mother has died.

Preparing to board the plane, Neil says he has left his passport at the hotel. Alice and the children head to the terminal, and Neil gets in a cab, goes to a different hotel, and has a vacation all to himself.

How much can and should one divulge about the reality of these characters, this situation, and what happens? This is the most significant peril of discussing the movie beyond its surface level, and even in terms of things we take for granted as superficial about characters and relationships, Franco takes his time to solidify the truth of this scenario. How does one talk about a story when an important point of that story is how much the audience has to assume about it?

This is the review's problem, of course. On a certain level, though, it's also one with the movie, since the screenplay has to dance around so many foundational elements in order to pull off the trick. Can we care about a character, simply as a person and, eventually, because we realize how wrong we've been about who he is, what he has done, and why he has done it?

To be fair, Roth is quite good as the enigmatic figure—not saying much and communicating so many potential emotions within his stoic attitude and visage. What we think about this man, though, is entirely determinant on the limited information and intentional misdirection Franco puts forth. He lies to Alice about looking for his passport and eventually starts ignoring her calls entirely. He also starts a hastily established romantic relationship with a local shopkeeper named Bernice (Iazua Larios), and when Neil explains his life to her, we can't even believe the truth when it's put in such straightforward terms. That's not on him. It's simply the intrinsic strength of one's own beliefs, as well as, to a certain degree, prejudices about the little we see from and know of Neil.

That's Franco's game here—withholding vital information and forcing us to fill in the gaps as we suppose they should be filled. If it seems like a leap to even assume that intention, the filmmaker more or less makes it clear later, when other assumptions about Neil's life, relationships, and possible motives for his actions get him into some legal trouble. This time, at least, we know the truth, and isn't it terrible how guessing about another person's behavior can spiral out of control in such extreme ways?

The point is gradually made clear, but obviously, Franco's game does have its unavoidable downsides. The little we do know about Neil's circumstances isn't enough to make him sympathetic. When the filmmaker does offer a pair of reasons to take pity on the man (some unspecified trauma and a clearly stated health issue), the move feels sudden, over-the-top, and on-the-nose compared to the subtle—or unnecessarily cryptic—and relaxed—or frustratingly aimless—storytelling until that point.

Sundown is an intriguing experiment in perception. As a narrative, though, it's as ultimately shallow as it is initially misleading.

Back to Home

Buy Related Products