Sandra Wollner's 'Everytime' is a hauntingly beautiful exploration of grief and recovery, but it's a film that leaves viewers with a bittersweet aftertaste. The movie, set in Berlin and the Canary Islands, follows a family of three women - a divorced mother, Ella, and her two daughters, Jessica and Melli - as they navigate the aftermath of Jessica's sudden death. The film is a subtle and delicate portrayal of human behavior in the wake of tragedy, but it's also a film that struggles to find its footing, leaving viewers with a sense of unease and a desire for more.
What makes 'Everytime' particularly fascinating is the way it plays with time and memory. The film uses ellipses to jump ahead and focus on how each character reacts to Jessica's death, creating a sense of disorientation and a feeling that the past is always present. This is particularly evident in the third act, where the family visits the same seaside resort in Tenerife where they had vacationed before Jessica's death. Here, the film takes a truly unexpected turn, as if the characters are unable to accept the reality of their loss and instead retreat into a world of surrealism and fantasy.
In my opinion, the film's strength lies in its ability to capture the subtle nuances of grief and recovery. The performances are excellent, with Birgit Minichmayr, Lotte Keiling, and Carla Hüttermann conveying the pain and confusion of their characters with great sensitivity. The film's cinematography is also impressive, with rich and detailed visuals that capture the beauty and the ugliness of everyday life. However, the film's two-hour runtime and lack of a sustained narrative make it feel a bit meandering at times, and the giant twist of an ending can feel like too much, too late.
One thing that immediately stands out is the film's rigorous aesthetic, which is reminiscent of the work of Angela Schanelec. The film's visual style is both elegant and unsettling, with a sense of unease that permeates every frame. However, the film's lack of a clear plot and its reliance on subtle symbolism can make it difficult to follow, and the film's ending can feel a bit forced and convenient.
From my perspective, 'Everytime' is a film that raises a deeper question about the nature of grief and the ways in which we cope with loss. The film suggests that the process of grieving is not linear or straightforward, but rather a complex and often confusing journey. It also suggests that the past is always present, and that our memories and experiences shape our present in ways that we may not always understand. What many people don't realize is that the film's ending is not a happy one, but rather a bittersweet conclusion that leaves viewers with a sense of hope and a sense of loss at the same time.
In conclusion, 'Everytime' is a film that is both hauntingly beautiful and deeply unsettling. It is a film that captures the subtle nuances of grief and recovery, but it is also a film that struggles to find its footing, leaving viewers with a sense of unease and a desire for more. If you take a step back and think about it, the film's ending is not a happy one, but rather a bittersweet conclusion that leaves viewers with a sense of hope and a sense of loss at the same time. Personally, I think that the film's strength lies in its ability to capture the complexity of human behavior in the wake of tragedy, and that its ending is a powerful and thought-provoking conclusion to a deeply moving film.
