Review: Supernova (2021)
Let’s face it: films regarding terminal illnesses are usually filled with tedious emotional manipulation. The illness in question is mostly used as a plot device instead of delving into a character exploration of the protagonist in question’s mortality. Gabriela Cowperthwaite’s Our Friend was a recent movie that used terminal cancer as a plot device, spectacularly manipulating their audience members through faux-emotional arcs. I’ll admit I was quite skeptical diving into Harry Macqueen’s Supernova, which tells the story of a couple traveling the United Kingdom to visit their friends. Tusker (Stanley Tucci) was diagnosed with dementia and is slowly losing his ability to remember, while Sam (Colin Firth) wants to share what remains of Tusker’s “memories” before he dies, which Sam isn’t ready to process. However, there’s never a moment where Supernova delves into cheesy, badly-written melodrama filled with cheap manipulation and clichés but is instead an incredibly heartbreaking portrait of a couple who is forced to slowly let themselves go featuring impeccable performances at its core.
There’s no way Supernova would’ve been as good as it is if not for its incredibly tight and human performances from Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci as Sam and Tusker, respectively. Both of them bring a raw sense of humanity to the characters, and many of the film’s most enticing sequences are conveyed through that “humanity.” Harry Macqueen understands that the audience doesn’t need to explicitly see that Tucci’s Tusker is ill with dementia, and his memory is slowly drifting away. Most of Tusker’s psychological anguish is told through micro facial expressions: a face turning bleak, one eye looking the other way, or a general feeling of unease through Tusker’s perception of his future with Sam gives the audience everything they need to know about Sam’s condition. Most of the film’s best acting moments are conveyed through Tucci and Firth’s facial expressions–and Macqueen’s preference to portray Tusker’s condition implicitly, rather than explicitly, makes the characters feel fantastically human, never using them as emotional plot devices.
Instead, the emotion arrives naturally, with one sequence being able to shift the entire direction of the film from a facile, romantic drama to a heartbreaking portrayal of loss and “letting go.” Macqueen introduces Sam and Tusker’s humanity during the first half of the movie. They are both well-liked and highly successful people among their friends and in England. Tusker is an author, while Sam is a piano player. Tusker can’t remember to read or write anymore, which makes the scene where Sam is forced to read his speech particularly heart-wrenching. During Supernova‘s first half, the film moves at a brisk pace but doesn’t quite hit the emotional level it should be aiming at. Everything changes, however, when Sam finds a hidden bottle of Pentobarbital and learns that the love of his life is planning to kill himself before his condition worsens even further. This is where Supernova soars and becomes something much deeper than the initial premise sets it out to be.
The conversation that precedes Sam’s learning of Tusker’s plans showcases Macqueen’s mastery of treating a dark theme like suicide with extreme care and emotion. It further develops Sam’s love for Tusker and is never used as a cheap plot device for pure manipulation. We, as humans, are all finite and will experience loss at some point in our lives. Mortality is part of the great circle of life and how we deal with our (or someone else’s) impending demise is something we don’t want to think about but eventually have to. Supernova brilliantly reminds the audience of our mortality–that we, as humans, aren’t permanent and must make the most of what we have to enjoy every breath of life while we’re healthy and strong before a severe illness or death takes a toll on us. Sam takes the last moments he’ll have with Tusker for granted, thinking his purpose is to take care of him until he dies. However, Tusker doesn’t want that. He wants to end his life on his terms and wants to be remembered as who he is and not what he is about to become.
This moment is the most heartbreaking part of Supernova. It reminds audiences that we aren’t in control of our lives and must focus on its most positive moments, even in the face of terrible adversity, or, in this case, knowledge that our individuality and lucidity are slowly being stripped away by an illness we are not in control of. The movie’s final scene, where Sam plays Edward Elgar’s Salut d’Amour in front of an audience, encompasses his entire love for Tusker in one musical performance. Tormented by an almost insurmountable amount of grief and guilt at how he was unaware of Tusker’s plans, Sam lays all of his emotions out through music in the most soul-crushing finale of any movie that has been released this year. Supernova might not be a film for everyone, as it deals with rather serious themes, such as suicide, death, and processing impending grief, but the film is a necessary viewing to remind everyone how finite we are and must appreciate every moment of our lives to the fullest before it’s too late. Do yourself a favor and rent this movie immediately. You will not regret it.
