Blue Heron Review

Sophy Romvari’s Blue Heron tackles a familiar question: If I could go back and work out exactly why and how a bad event in my life happened, would it make it hurt less? Would it make moving on easier? Set in Vancouver in 1995, Blue Heron follows Sasha- first as a child (Eylul Guven) and then as a young woman (Amy Zimmer)—as she experiences and then processes the behaviour of her oldest brother Jeremy (Edik Beddoes).

What’s especially interesting about Blue Heron is the way Romvari plays with the structure and points of view within the film. The first two acts unfold with a conventional narrative approach, showing events through young Sasha’s eyes as she lurks in doorways and outside windows, gradually giving the audience an understanding of Jeremy. We witness his abnormal behaviour – lying on the front porch pretending to be dead, and hear Sasha’s mother and father (beautifully played by Iringó Réti and Adam Tompa, respectively) plead for assistance in supporting their son. Even so, we also experience candid moments of joy and warmth among the four siblings. Romvari’s direction and her choice of scenes do a spectacular job building a three-dimensional picture of Sasha’s childhood. 

The film really becomes extraordinary with a structural shift at its centre. Part of the film’s beauty lies in experiencing this moment and letting the ramifications wash over you, so I won’t go too deeply into specifics. Amy Zimmer’s performance in the latter half is absolutely stunning and anchors the viewer, deftly displaying Sasha’s emotions and reasoning, leading up to a stupendous climax that has me fighting back tears just recalling it as I write this.

The themes of Blue Heron are universal, which makes it so enjoyable and impactful. The film reflects on the use of art as an outlet for understanding yourself and your past, showing how making something physical can help you comprehend experiences that seem unfathomable. But it also reminds us that while you can unpick and examine every aspect of what happened to you, you cannot go back and change it, creating a beautiful reflection on what it feels like to live in a complicated and sometimes uncaring world.

This article first appeared in Late Nite Picture Show #1