A brashly mature film about parent child relationships, after the sun takes its time to unfold. It centers on Sofia, a keen observer of the world who carries questions about family, memory, and self into every frame. Set roughly twenty years in the past, the narrative follows a summer spent with her father, weaving in reflective vignettes from Sofia in her thirties. The result is not a melodrama of sadness but a nuanced exploration of how memory collects details and how those details shape identity. The film invites viewers to watch closely as Sofia connects the dots between past and present, discovering what she heard, what she felt, and what she learned about herself during those quiet, sunlit days. The camera acts as a patient witness, tracing tiny moments that accumulate into a broader understanding of growing up and letting go.
The work speaks with a calm surface that hides a fearless curiosity about family dynamics and the delicate shifts a child experiences when parents separate. It treats memory as a living archive, where a single summer can define years of later reflection. The director crafts a pace that feels almost ritual, letting ordinary days—ranging from shared meals to simple walks—to accumulate into something quietly revealing. This approach makes the film feel intimate, almost like watching a family album come to life, with Sofia guiding the viewer through her early impressions and the subtle realizations that come with time. The storytelling rests on precise observations, small gestures, and carefully chosen pauses that linger long after the scene ends.
The film nods to its own archival impulse by revisiting a moment in time through a child’s innocent view of the world. In retrospect, the sequence of events reveals how a parent child bond is tested and redefined by circumstance. The soundscape and visuals work in tandem to evoke the texture of memory, presenting each scene as a fragment that, when placed together, forms a cohesive portrait of growth. The story does not rush toward a single revelation; instead it embraces ambiguity, inviting audiences to fill in the blanks with their own recollections. In doing so, the film becomes a meditation on how we recall our lives and how those memories shape the people we become.
The title mirrors a larger tradition of reflective cinema, echoing a year marked by exploratory, intimate work created without the noise of social media and constant sharing. The memory of that summer is captured with a simplicity that elevates its emotional truth, allowing the viewer to witness the process of recognizing one’s place in a family history. This approach to memory, seen through a child’s lens, resonates as a quiet, but powerful statement about time, belonging, and the formation of self. As noted in festival program notes, the film frames memory as a living thing, something that grows more vivid the longer it is revisited.