Blue Heron

The ‘Blue Heron’ a bird native to North America, incubates its eggs in Canada during the summer. From the moment they hatch, the chicks begin to prepare for life in the wild and within the colony. These birds, lovingly fed and raised by their parents, join the heron colony; usually, there is only one of these herons in a colony. Once they are released into the wild by their parents, their paths likely part forever, although there is a chance they may meet again under certain circumstances. There is no guarantee of a reunion.‘Once they leave their colony, they will disappear’, says the debut film by Canadian director Sophy Romvari. The connection between the bird that gives the film its title and a Hungarian family in Canada is ever-present. The parents, who move to Vancouver Island with their children, lovingly care for their two sons and two daughters. Jeremy, the eldest son, is meanwhile labelled a problem child because of his behaviour. From the perspective of his siblings and parents, it is not clear exactly what is different about Jeremy and why he does certain things that get him into trouble. Even in the 1990s, when the first part of the film is set, social workers and psychologists are at a loss. On the one hand, there is the issue of the neighbours: what do they say about him? Do they see him as a problem?On the other hand, there is his behaviour, which could potentially endanger his younger siblings.Sophy Romvari refrains from speculating or making assumptions about the origins of Jeremy’s behaviour, instead leaving it up to the viewers to decide for themselves. She simply portrays his behavioural traits in specific situations, and the viewer becomes someone who tries to understand his behaviour. Statements such as ‘I don’t want to watch you eat’ suggest a mental illness that no one can diagnose. Out of desperation, the mother decides to place him in a foster family. She fears she herself is the cause of his excessive behaviour. Of course, she isn’t, because in truth she has poured all the love into him that she has for her other children. She also decides, out of love, to set him free, just like the mother of his grey heron. Jeremy subsequently disappears from the story; he remains merely part of a childhood memory.Fast forward to the present day, and we see an adult Sasha who has turned her passion – filming and photography, a love instilled in her by her father from birth – into her profession. Her main goal: to uncover the injustices that exacerbated Jeremy’s behaviour and to search for an answer as to why she was unable to spend her entire childhood with her brother. Through her project, she finds herself in a sea of memories, which are depicted visually in a blurred manner. When she visits her childhood home, now an old house, her memories become clearer, as they take on a more concrete form in a familiar setting. She imagines how things might have gone differently today during her conversation with the social worker, whilst at the same time recalling the happy moments she shared with her older brother.Sophy Romvari’s feature film debut is strongly reminiscent of Charlotte Wells’ approach in *Aftersun*. A manifesto of memory, shaped by the perspective of a child who did not understand why her brother suddenly had to leave the nest and is now searching for answers. The cinematography suits the theme of memory and remains restrained. At the same time, it is artistically creative and finds angles that make it easy to immerse oneself in this emotionally charged story, whilst simultaneously conveying a gentleness that touches one deeply.

Sometimes there are no easy answers in life. Such circumstances can be maddening, leaving us frustrated, perplexed and wanting for a lack of adequate explanation. Yet, as on point as that description may be, it doesn’t suffice. Nor does it necessarily translate into good storytelling or filmmaking, as is the case in this debut feature from director Sophy Romvari. When a family of Hungarian descent relocates to British Columbia’s Vancouver Island in the 1990s, they hope that the new environment will prove beneficial for their troubled teenage son, Jeremy (Edik Beddoes), who routinely engages in unexplained antisocial and sometimes-dangerous behavior, despite his apparent capacity for kindness and compassion. Jeremy is quite a handful for his stability-searching parents (Iringó Réti, Ádám Tompa), who have tried everything – to no avail – to understand him and to get him the help he needs. He’s also something of an enigma to his three younger siblings, his two brothers (Liam Serg, Preston Drabble) and, most notably, to his sister, Sasha (Eylul Guven), a sweet, sensitive girl who’s especially curious about her eldest brother’s erratic behavior. So what’s up with the unsettled young man? That’s where the elusive easy answers come into play. And it’s an issue that haunts Sasha from her youth and on into adulthood, where her elder self (Amy Zimmer) has become a filmmaker. When all grown up, she meets with a group of mental health professionals and social service workers for insight on a documentary she’s making about a “case” she’s chronicling, seeking advice on how to best handle the story of a patient whose profile is a virtually identical match to that of her brother. It’s at this point, however, when the film begins losing its way, blending the art of the elder Sasha with the memories of her younger self in an almost surrealistic (and, at times, incoherent) fashion. One can presume from this that Sasha’s adult self is likely a stand-in for filmmaker Romvari herself, adding another level of muddying ambiguity to the storytelling mix, making for an offering that becomes trying to fathom. It may provide a fitting parallel to the conditions faced by Jeremy’s parents themselves, but is this good filmmaking? Some might see this as a masterful work of cinema, an interplay of reality, biography and artistic interpretation, but I honestly found it somewhat confusing, despite an earnest, ambitious attempt at fusing the various aforementioned elements. In that sense, “Blue Heron” feels somewhat contrived and unclear about its intent, with a choppy, sometimes-distracting flow to its narrative. To its credit, this is a gorgeously filmed release gloriously depicting the landscape of western Canada, along with meticulous attention to its detailed production design, backed by a diverse and often-perfectly suited soundtrack. But the essential substance of this release could use some much-needed refinement and clarity, with a little more shoring up, a little less ethereal treatment and smoother transitions between sequences. It’s indeed true that this work effectively brings the lack of easy answers front and center for viewers, but that doesn’t mean we should be swallowed up by them in the process.