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| As Alice (Gemma Arterton) grows more tolerant of Frank's (Lucas Bond) presence, she becomes willing to share her interest in the fascinating atmospheric phenomenon known as Fata Morgana mirages. |
Writer/director Jessica Swale’s engaging and clever scripted Summerland — available via Amazon Prime and other streaming platforms — focuses on this era through the lens of yet another fresh perspective. Her film is fueled by a richly nuanced performance from star Gemma Arterton, who — in turn — is surrounded by a talented ensemble cast that brings this drama to vibrant life.
The setting is a tiny community nestled along the seaside cliffs of Southern England’s Kent district; the story’s catalyst is “Operation Pied Piper,” the mass evacuations designed to keep children safe in outlying rural locations during the Blitz, while their parents remained behind in cities across Britain.
Alice Lamb (Arterton) is a reclusive researcher/writer who lives in a quaint home overlooking the ocean. She’s constantly tormented by local children: in part because they always get such a furious rise out of her; and also because much of the community suspects she might be a “Nazi spy.” (Not really. But tongues do wag…)
Her isolation is rudely interrupted when she’s assigned a young boy — Lucas Bond, as Frank — who arrives in the newest wave of displaced children. Alice is furious, wanting no part of such an intrusion; the townsfolk — led by genial school headmaster Mr. Sullivan (the quietly excellent Tom Courtenay) — are equally firm. She must do her part.
Fine, she replies waspishly, but only for one week: until you can find him another home.
We cringe during these early scenes, because Alice doesn’t even try to conceal her disgust over the situation in general, and poor Frank in particular; she couldn’t care less if his feelings get bruised. But — intriguingly — he’s a remarkably resilient boy, and he accepts her hostility with equanimity (although Bond ensures that we see the distress in his gaze, when Alice isn’t looking).
But the unrepentantly cruel Alice soon gains our sympathy, as we realize that her behavior is generated not by blunt selfishness, but by the hardened bitterness of one whose heart has been broken. Frank is a similarly wounded sparrow whose presence kindles memories of the circumstances that led her to such an isolated existence. Swale initially teases us, via fleeting flashbacks, of the “forbidden” affair that took place during Alice’s university years.
Details eventually emerge, of the incandescent love that ignited between her and fellow student Vera (Gugu Mbatha-Raw). Alice is luminescent in these scenes, Arterton’s expression suffused with the warm glow of soul-deep happiness. Swale depicts this relationship matter-of-factly, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world … which of course it is, on the most important level.
But not in the 1920s.
In the present, Alice — despite herself — can’t help bonding with Frank. He’s an inquisitive, intelligent and sensitive lad: eager to learn more about her scholarly interest in Fata Morgana mirages (complex images — full buildings, even — seen “hovering” above the ocean horizon, under specific weather conditions). She, in turn, helps him build wooden model airplanes, going so far as to paint decals on their wings.
(This is the point at which we know her heart is thawing.)
Bond makes Frank persuasively earnest, (mostly) cheerful and eager to please; one can’t help liking him. But he also has a serious, sober side, particularly when he talks about his parents.
In school, Frank befriends Edie (Dixie Egerickx), a feisty little girl who styles herself as a free spirit (much to the vexation of her teacher). It’s unclear whether she’s a good choice for Frank; her eyes are wily and untrustworthy, and she has a spiteful side wholly at odds with his gentle nature. She also reflexively dismisses Alice as “a witch,” which doesn’t endear her to him (or us).
And yet Swale coaxes a similarly subtle performance from Egerickx. Edie “acts out” because she’s a lonely and isolated child; we sense that even the smallest bit of kindness might soften her rougher edges.
We assume that the story’s dramatic tension will revolve solely on the question of whether Alice truly will send Frank packing, after the single week. Ah, but no: Swale has much more poignant fish to fry, along with a couple of narrative jolts.
We’re reminded of one of life’s harder lessons: Sometimes, when it’s necessary to do or say something, you’re damned if you do, and equally damned if you don’t. This plays out in calamitous fashion, Arterton delivering Alice’s mounting anguish with palpable physical pain; she once again becomes the deeply emotional woman she has tried to bury, for lo these many years.
I love all the surprises — large and small — that Swale packs into her script.
The bucolic countryside setting is captured brilliantly by cinematographer Laurie Rose, who often frames her establishing shots against the region’s imposing white cliffs. Production designer Christina Moore takes equal care with Alice’s home, which has the slightly disheveled look that results from a resident too frequently focused on her work, and laden with shelves that groan beneath the weight of books.
It should be mentioned, as well, that Arterton looks and behaves every inch the obsessed writer: furious typing, dangling cigarette, grimly focused expression, frequent dives into the half a dozen books and manuscripts that litter her workspace.
Summerland is wholly absorbing throughout, and it builds to a powerful conclusion (with an equally poignant epilogue). This is an impressive feature debut for Swale, and I can’t wait to see what she does next.
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