There's something about a trailer that whispers instead of shouts, you know? The kind that creeps under your skin like a cool Scandinavian breeze, leaving you pondering long after the screen fades. That's ‘The Summer Book' for me—Charlie McDowell's latest, dropping that official US trailer via Music Box Films, and damn if it doesn't pull at the threads of loss and wonder in ways that echo those quiet horror moments in sci-fi isolation flicks, where the void isn't space but the heart. Glenn Close as the grandmother? She's not just acting; she's embodying this weathered soul guiding her granddaughter through life's tempests on a tiny uninhabited island in the Gulf of Finland. “I won't be here forever,” she says, and it lands like a gut punch—simple, inevitable.
Adapted from Tove Jansson's beloved novel—the same mind behind the Moomins, mind you, blending whimsy with that Nordic melancholy—this film's no blockbuster roar. Shot on 16mm under majestic natural light, it captures the island's raw beauty, all misty midsommar celebrations and stormy faith tests. McDowell, who's given us mind-benders like ‘The One I Love' and ‘The Discovery' (those sci-fi tinges of existential dread? Yeah, they linger here too, in the father's grief-numbed silence), directs with a delicacy that's almost tangible. Producers like Aleksi Bardy and Kevin Loader kept things intimate, filming in that Finnish archipelago where everyone probably sweated through unpredictable weather—was it a heatwave or just the emotional boil? Anders Danielsen Lie as the father, still shattered by his wife's death, and young Emily Matthews as Sophia, her curiosity blooming like wildflowers… it's a trio that feels lived-in, flawed, real.
Festival circuits lit up last year—premiering at the 2024 London Film Festival, then hitting AFI Fest, Stockholm, Camerimage, and more. Critics have been glowing; Variety called it a “healing, very hygge holiday” for Close's performance, resisting any twinkly nonsense. IndieWire noted how she lends depth to this slow-moving gem. Me? I felt a tug of awe mixed with that grating ache of recognition—gorgeous, then heavy, gorgeous again. It's not perfect; the pace might test some, like those endless summer days that drag until they don't… but that's the point, or maybe not. I'm still mulling it.
Anyway—where was I? Oh, the human side. Watching Sophia explore, her grandmother's guidance both tender and tough, it stirred up my own festival memories, those Berlinale nights debating loss in cinema. Conflicting, sure: one moment you're tearing up at the infinite possibility, the next groaning at how grief can numb everything else. But McDowell's touch, with screenplay by Robert Jones, honors Jansson's spirit without over-explaining—letting the natural world speak, storms and all.
Close's role here? A far cry from her villainous turns, yet that intensity simmers beneath, like a cult film's undercurrent. Loved the idea of her in this. Hated how it reminded me of personal voids. Still intrigued, though.
Glenn Close's Grizzled Wisdom
She nails the grandmother's blend of grit and gentleness, making every line feel earned in this intimate drama—no over-the-top dramatics, just quiet power that echoes across the island's waves.
The Island as Silent Character
Filmed in the Gulf of Finland's stark beauty, the setting isn't backdrop; it's the heartbeat, with 16mm capturing light that shifts from serene to stormy, mirroring the family's inner turmoil.
Adaptation's Delicate Balance
Drawing from Tove Jansson's novel, McDowell avoids heavy-handed symbolism, letting whimsy and melancholy coexist—like Moomin tales grown up, focused on growing old and young at once.
Festival Echoes and Buzz
From its 2024 London premiere to AFI and Camerimage stops, the film's earned praise for its poetic peacefulness, a sublime escape that's already got critics recommending it widely.
Grief's Subtle Sci-Fi Vibe
Though no aliens here, the isolation and existential questions nod to McDowell's past works—think ‘The Discovery' but earthbound, where loss feels as vast as any cosmic void.
Who wants to catch this in theaters starting September 19th, 2025? I do, flaws and all—because sometimes, a film's whispers say more than screams ever could. Let's talk after you've seen it… or the trailer, at least.
