– Charlie McDowell transposes Tove Jansson’s 1972 novel composed of 22 vignettes into a gentle portrait of ephemerality, childhood and passing grief
Emily Matthews and Glenn Close in The Summer Book
Tove Jansson, the Finnish multi-hyphenate author, artist and painter known internationally for her Moomin books and illustrations, was also a short-story author and acclaimed novelist in her own right. Outside of her semi-autobiographical book Sculptor’s Daughter, Jansson’s most popular novel is The Summer Book, based loosely on her niece Sophia and Sophia’s grandmother – Jansson’s mother. Now on his fourth feature, US director Charlie McDowell brings to life Jansson’s quietly brilliant book with a script by Robert Jones, taking on the spirit of the novel, which is presented in 22 warm vignettes. McDowell’s interpretation of The Summer Book recently world-premiered in the Special Presentations section of the BFI London Film Festival.
Taking on the drifting narrative simplicity of Jansson’s novel, The Summer Book tracks a season with young Sophia, her father and her grandmother at their holiday home in the Gulf of Finland. Underlying this tranquil time is the lingering absence of Sophia’s mother, who the audience learns, through inference, has recently passed away. While still vignette-based, the film adds a very loose plot arc to the book’s extremely slice-of-life tale. Nine-year-old Sophia, whom newcomer Emily Matthews plays with truly joyous bursts of innocence, is slightly older than Jansson’s protagonist, who is six. Rounding off the cast is Lars von Trier favourite Anders Danielsen Lie in his scruffy father era and Glenn Close as Sophia’s elderly but nimble grandmother, her face crinkling with character at every laugh.
Ephemerality and simplicity are key in McDowell’s film, where gently floating, twinkly melodic lines by composer Hania Rani seem to respond to the dialogue spoken. At the same time, arpeggiated piano and forward-pushing chord progressions respond to the rushing sounds of the environment (by sound designer Micke Nyström), most evident in a scene involving a thunderstorm, as Sophia looks out of a window at the downpour and Father, in a boat, fiercely fights the tumultuous waves. Costume designer Tiina Kaukanen, too, keeps to effective basics in order to keep us concentrated on the film’s overall simplicity: Sophia is almost always seen in a brighter-coloured striped or plaid top, while Father and Grandmother make do in earth-toned clothing.
From its first moments, the film sweeps you back to a childhood you never had as McDowell cultivates, with vintage-inspired lensing by DoP Sturla Brandth Grøvlen, a distinct feeling of anemoia – a perfectly constructed neologism for the feeling of nostalgia for a time one has never personally experienced. Taking place almost exclusively among the three main characters, McDowell’s feature moves between beautiful landscapes with a quaint pastoral feel, highlighting the Arcadian environment in which grief inevitability still settles. The Summer Book also thus becomes an interesting counterpoint to the anticipatory grief of the recent San Sebastián premiere My Eternal Summer [+see also:
film review
trailer
interview: Sylvia Le Fanu
film profile], which adopts an entirely different angle on the intersection of Nordic idyllicism and bereavement through a girl’s (in this case, a teenage girl’s) bright, bold summer filled with outbursts of sadness and floods of emotion.
The Summer Book is a Finnish-UK-US production by Helsinki Filmi, Stille Production, Free Range Films and High Frequency Entertainment, while Charades is steering its international sales.
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