Waves
Directed by: Trey Edward Shults
Written by: Trey Edward Shults
Starring: Kelvin Harrison Jr., Taylor Russell, Sterling K. Brown, Renée Elise Goldsberry, Alexa Demie, Lucas Hedges, Clifton Collins Jr., Neal Huff
Drama/Romance/Sport - 135 min Reviewed by Charlie Juhl on 18 Nov 2019
Written by: Trey Edward Shults
Starring: Kelvin Harrison Jr., Taylor Russell, Sterling K. Brown, Renée Elise Goldsberry, Alexa Demie, Lucas Hedges, Clifton Collins Jr., Neal Huff
Drama/Romance/Sport - 135 min Reviewed by Charlie Juhl on 18 Nov 2019

Writer/director Trey Edward Shults knows family drama. His first film, Krisha, watched as the family black sheep attempted, quite unsuccessfully, to integrate back into the fold over Thanksgiving dinner. It Comes at Night was an after the apocalypse horror film, yet family dynamics still led the way with family vs. family tension. Waves feels like a horror film in its own right even though there are no monsters, axe murderers, or supernatural spooks. The horror arises from the bubbling tension, the screws ratcheting up the suspense, and knowing some sort of emotional outburst is coming, but we don’t know when. Impulses take over, a family is shattered, and Shults carries on after the big bang as the family attempts to piece itself back together or float apart into disparate islands.
Immediately commanding our attention is the hyper close-up, spinning camera work by cinematographer Drew Daniels. Tyler (Kelvin Harrison Jr., The Birth of a Nation) is on top of the world. He is an elite high school wrestler, loves joyriding with his girlfriend, Alexis (Alexa Demie) around Miami’s South Beach, and sees a bright future full of love and status just around the corner. The camera literally spins in excitement. Inside Tyler’s SUV blasting dance tunes to fit the perfect weather and life is good atmosphere, the camera slides up front between the love birds and slides to the rear without losing the subjectivity of the kids. In the film’s second half, the camera employs the same techniques, yet it amplifies a different feeling as two different kids morosely accomplish an altogether different road trip.
Immediately commanding our attention is the hyper close-up, spinning camera work by cinematographer Drew Daniels. Tyler (Kelvin Harrison Jr., The Birth of a Nation) is on top of the world. He is an elite high school wrestler, loves joyriding with his girlfriend, Alexis (Alexa Demie) around Miami’s South Beach, and sees a bright future full of love and status just around the corner. The camera literally spins in excitement. Inside Tyler’s SUV blasting dance tunes to fit the perfect weather and life is good atmosphere, the camera slides up front between the love birds and slides to the rear without losing the subjectivity of the kids. In the film’s second half, the camera employs the same techniques, yet it amplifies a different feeling as two different kids morosely accomplish an altogether different road trip.

Tyler’s father, Ronald (Sterling K. Brown, The Predator), preaches body, church, and community. He is strict with Tyler instilling in his son the knowledge he must work that much harder in life to achieve anything because of his skin color and pre-judgements when he enters a room. There is a hyper-masculinity between the two as they compete in weightlifting and discuss the mind games involved on the wrestling mat. Ronald believes he arms Tyler with the weapons a man needs in life, both physical and intellectual. He wields a sharp tongue and is quick to admonish, but the audience knows he has Tyler’s best intentions at heart. Tyler’s sister, Emily (Taylor Russell, Before I Fall), receives a far different level of attention. She enjoys sensitivity bordering on anonymity in Tyler’s shadow.

The camera continues to probe, never stepping back to watch. It is in your face, on the table during dinner, and biting at everyone’s heels in the hallway. As Tyler’s world begins to spiral and systematically come apart at the seams, as he falls from top of the world to bottom of the barrel faster than he thought possible, the camera ensures we feels his pressure too. An ignored sports injury, a level of emotional responsibility no teenager has the toolkit to sort through by himself, and the haphazard affects of pills, immaturity, and impulsivity sets Tyler up for catastrophe.

Shults made a particularly bold filmmaking choice. His film has a distinct Part A and Part B. He puts the climax smack in the middle. Audiences are used to a final event and a brief falling action before the credits roll. After Waves’s climax, we still have another hour to digest, ponder, and try to make sense of life - just like the family does. After calamity, what do you do? Do you get up and go to work in the morning? Does the next day’s homework still have to get done? What does conversation sound like at the family dinner, if there even is still a family dinner? Even Shults’s soundtrack choices skip tracks. What used to be throbbing pop and hard hip-hop in the first hour are now more forlorn and introspective Radiohead and Frank Ocean songs - the opposite of a former toxic masculinity.

Waves is a dramatic ensemble where all the characters have heavy lifting to do, even supporting players like the family’s mom (Renée Elise Goldsberry, The House With a Clock in Its Walls) and Tyler and Emily’s fellow high school student (Lucas Hedges, Ben Is Back). Waves is also a film of balance - for every hard charging, overdrive element, there is a later corresponding hushed moment where things are left unsaid. Even though ensemble is the best cast descriptor, Kelvin Harrison Jr.’s performance shines brightest not because he has the showiest role, but he is undeniable as a high school student buckling under the pressure and lacking the outlets and intuition to piece it all together. The majority of teenagers may experience one or two of Tyler’s dilemmas in their hormonal years, and but for the grace of God, most do not succumb to the impulses and temporary rage. The spinning camera feels like the most apt way in for the audience to try and recall how hard those teenaged highs and lows knocked us about.
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