Andrew Haigh
Estranei

Is it possible for watching a film to hit a viewer internally enough to make them feel strong emotions? This can happen if the film in question proves to be rich in pathos and able to engage sensitive viewers. But, in particular, the greatest merit I assign to "Estranei" (original title "All of us strangers") by British director Andrew Haigh is its ability to stage, with the greatest possible effectiveness, a complex story that can be classified as mediumistic or paranormal, keeping the viewer's attention well awake.

Loosely inspired by the novel of the same name by Japanese author Taichi Yamada (from which "The Discarnates" was already adapted in 1988, more faithful to the text), director Haigh films a singular character like Adam (played by a measured Andrew Scott). He is a middle-aged screenwriter, residing in a modern and gloomy building in London, leading a somewhat solitary life. While he is in the grips of a creative crisis that does not allow him to get beyond an opening like "Exterior, suburban house, 1987," he hears a knock at the door and finds the other tenant (a certain Harry) in the building, who has come to offer him some company (he also feels lonely). But it is not an evening for Adam, and from this point on a series of events unfold in which the protagonist seems to live a waking dream, in the midst of a kind of time travel. He goes to the suburbs of London and precisely at the single-family villa where he lived until the age of 12, he sees his parents exactly as they were before their fatal car accident. Alive and well, therefore, and willing to let him into the ancestral home, where everything has remained as it once was. They welcome him with all the imaginable warmth towards a family member returning from a long journey, who has much to tell about his life and cannot hide that he is a gay bachelor (or queer as one might say), at peace with himself and others, and essentially a creative alone in the London metropolis. A heartfelt confession towards parents who are nonetheless tolerant, who in any case love their son and make him understand the necessity to free himself from the ghosts of the past and the right to relate more freely to others. Yes, but while Adam has these close and so-real encounters with his long-deceased parents, everything seems to be going well in the friendly and intimate relationship with his neighbor Harry. But how sure can one be that the events are real or merely dreamlike? In a disorienting finale, following other twists, the credits roll and to the notes of "The Power of Love" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood, tears easily well up.

It is easy to label such a film as fantastic and romantic. But the movie, eccentric compared to the average in circulation, has the gift of captivating attention, in this succession of encounters with such real ghosts, raising many themes that concern us. Meanwhile, there is the theme of metropolitan solitude that is felt in general and without the need to be sexually different. It is something that catches almost everyone even when finding themselves in crowded places, no matter how much they are deluded into being in company.

Then there is the typical disorientation of middle-aged people, beginning to take stock of their private, professional life, possibly feeling regret for the past (because going back and remedying is impossible).

But above all, the issue of the relationship between parents and children stands out, namely the expectations the former can have towards the latter, who nonetheless have every right to follow their own path once the growth and education phase is over. In particular, it is the relationship between father and son that is particularly delicate and important, both for what is said and done, and for what is unspoken and implicit. As in the film, in my case too there were not many words, nor declarations like "I love you." But I have always understood that paternal example and affection have always been there, solid as a rock, and I keep a grateful and luminous memory of my father.

And even in a filmic representation of a story where the distinction between reality and dream is supremely intangible, the fundamental question remains: what is life? Perhaps a breath between birth and death, constantly in motion while something unexpected and mysterious could happen just around the corner. Or perhaps what is called life is just a waking dream?