Will Penn peels back the shroud in this review of aWake.
The trees sway against the backdrop of the heavy winter sky like nightmarish tendrils. I watch as though through a thick window, utterly separate from the outside world, the alarm blaring incessantly as if it were a dream. And just like that, I am in the confined back seat of a car, propelled into the narrative as it unfolds in the two front seats.
There are moments like these in aWake that are incredibly well crafted. Director, producer and writer Mark McAuley’s ambition shines throughout the whole project. With two 35-minute tracking shots as the basis for an ambitious yet contained film, it is certainly a stylish debut. McAuley names tasteful inspirations for the project—Kurosawa, Lynch and Ducournau—in an interview with our own Dev Murray. But the one that stands out is Sean Baker. His ability to create a unique cinematic experience on a budget grounds McAuley’s first feature (you can read the excellent interview here).
aWake examines the gathering of four tenuously related people in the aftermath of a tragedy. The suicide of Jimmy brings Anna (Kojii de Búrca) back to Ireland from New York. Right before the wake, she reveals to her girlfriend Kate (Lacy Moore) that he had raped her when she was younger. Siobhan (Sadhbh Larkin Coyle), the unhinged widow of Jimmy, welcomes the women into their home before insisting that they drink. After all, she remarks with sardonic back-handedness, they look like people who are fond of a drink. Michael, the on-screen face of McAuley, is a sharp-eyed and grating character, introduced as he bangs on the door demanding to be let in.
Floating between the characters and their interactions, the film holds the imperfect nature of human beings—the way they speak, stumble over their words, and ultimately fail to express what they truly feel. There is the struggle to articulate how a friend has changed, as well as the ineffable yearning for a time or person long gone. These poignant moments are propulsive in the development of story and character, explored using a dreamlike cinematography that deepens the emotional intensity of the narrative.
However, for every gentle distillation of this imperfection, aWake is indulgently misanthropic. Characters turn from nostalgic to almost incomprehensibly cruel at impossible speeds. Granted, people are complicated, and heavy subjects like suicide and rape are infinitely more so. But it does not feel very lifelike, and despite excellent performances from Lacy Moore, Kojii de Búrca, Sadhbh Larkin Coyle, and indeed McAuley, it all feels too… directed. The characters’ unkindness towards each other distracts from the central themes and ideas that the film sets itself up to explore; Kate verges on blaming Anna for her confession at the beginning of the film, there is endless dialogue about a refused drink and an unopened door, and Michael’s cruel turn towards Anna over a smoke does not feel particularly believable. To quote Kate to Siobhan after a homophobic rant: “This is getting a little boring.”
Which is a shame, because at its centre there is a difficult and interesting catharsis in relinquishing trauma. The film begins with a slingshot motion—Anna’s panic attack throws the viewer into the thick of the action. And while later panic attacks are filmed in similarly frantic style, it struggles to keep that momentum. Without anything to contrast the more cynical and dark tone, it feels a little one-note.
Still, there’s something admirable in McAuley’s commitment to making a film like this at all. The rough edges, the claustrophobia, and even the relentless bleakness are born from the DIY spirit that makes independent filmmaking so compelling. It is a debut that might falter in places, but its ambition and ruggedness make it a promising foundation for whatever McAuley attempts next.
aWake is available to stream online.
