‘The Summer Book’ Review: Glenn Close Takes a Healing, Very Hygge Holiday

As a movie reviewer who’s spent countless hours immersed in the celluloid world, I must say that “The Summer Book” is a cinematic journey that takes you to a remote island in the heart of the Gulf of Finland, much like how my life has taken me to the farthest corners of the film industry. This delicate adaptation of Tove Jansson’s novel beautifully captures the essence of a summer spent in quiet contemplation and healing, a stark contrast to the fast-paced world we often find ourselves in.

In 1972, Tove Jansson penned “The Summer Book”, a work that while not an autobiography, held elements of memoir. The storyline is sparse and focuses on understated sorrow and healing, all the while reflecting Jansson’s profound connection to the isolated island in the Gulf of Finland where she owned a simple summer home. It took over five decades for this cherished novel to be adapted into a movie, which isn’t surprising given its subtle authorial bond and understated narrative. In his fourth film, director Charlie McDowell attempts to do justice to this task, successfully capturing some of the wistful, sun-drenched charm from Jansson’s writing, even if it doesn’t quite reach the quiet, profound beauty of her prose.

The main attraction of “The Summer Book,” as it hits screens after its debut at the London Film Festival, is Glenn Close‘s moving portrayal as a weary yet benevolent grandmother during a family vacation, which could be emotionally challenging. However, this movie isn’t about celebrity or fancy film techniques. The most dramatic moment is a brief summer storm, which although threatening, doesn’t cause any significant damage. Screenwriter Robert Jones keeps the story understated in his adaptation of the original work. Some viewers might find the thin plot disappointing given its aim for a serene atmosphere instead of excitement. However, fans of Tove Jansson, the Finnish author famous for her Moomins books, will appreciate that the film hasn’t sensationalized her intimate and personal stories.

The journey starts with a transition into a different realm, where time seems to move more leisurely and days stretch longer. A small wooden motorboat, propelling purposefully through sparkling waters, carries us further away from the bustle of city life. On top of it, nine-year-old Sophia (Emily Matthews, making her debut), a thoughtful, creative girl with an insatiable curiosity about her evolving environment, takes in every moment. Alongside her father (Anders Danielsen Lie) and grandmother (Close), Sophia is heading towards a remote coastal cottage that has been owned by the family for generations, a place where she’s spent every summer of her young life so far. However, this time it feels strange and unfamiliar without her mother, who we understand has passed away in the last year, and whose absence no one knows quite how to acknowledge.

Sophia’s quiet, artistic father often immerses himself in his work, hiding his emotions so profoundly that Sophia worries he no longer cares for her. With little emotional support from him, Sophia’s grandmother steps up to play the role of both parents. She devises numerous activities to stimulate Sophia’s active mind and serves as a reliable sounding board for questions on topics ranging from mundane to imaginative to profound. The film takes place in an era before smartphones or computers, with their absence serving as a subtle indication of the period. The characters’ thick, textured Nordic clothing, even during summer, seems ever-present.

The grandmother is practical and independent; at one point she sharply scolds her son for wallowing in self-pity, yet she’s always compassionate towards Sophia – indulging her imaginative whims while steering her towards playful diversions. She also motivates the girl to tackle her own issues, openly acknowledging that she won’t be around for long. In a convincing portrayal of this complex character, Close masterfully plays the tough-yet-tender old bird without resorting to overly sentimental scenes, while maintaining a strong emotional bond with Matthews, who delivers an appealingly energetic and not excessively mature performance in her film debut.

In her quiet personal moments, such as smoking homemade cigarettes on the porch at sunset or slowly limping across landscapes she used to swiftly traverse as a child, the grandmother’s face subtly darkens with deeper worries – maybe fear for what her family will become now that only two members remain. However, as summer advances, these raw wounds gradually heal, and father and daughter start to truly understand each other again – although the film delays any overt displays of emotional release or reconciliation. Danielsen Lie, a consistently captivating presence on screen, is given less dialogue than his female counterparts, but the movie heavily relies on his understated, dignified acting skills.

Instead of maintaining the somber tones characteristic of his past films like “Windfall,” McDowell’s latest work strays from seeking spiritual resonance in physical elements as effectively as Jansson’s eerie novel does: For instance, a new poplar tree growing among the rocks symbolizing hope for the future can be overly sentimental. Notably, “The Summer Book” is a film that seems captivated by the rugged shorelines, pine-strewn floors, and faded skies of its setting, all beautifully captured by renowned Norwegian cinematographer Sturla Brandth Grøvlen (“Victoria,” “Another Round”) in frames emphasizing intimate details of light and texture rather than scenic grandeur, leaving an indelible mark on one’s recollections.

2024-10-17 18:46

‘The Summer Book’ Review: Glenn Close Takes a Healing, Very Hygge Holiday

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