SXSW Review: ‘Magic Hour’ is a Familiar Exploration of Grief with a Strong Performance from Director Katie Aselton

Grief looks different for everyone. Some people may throw themselves into work or lean on family members for support after they’ve suffered a loss, while others will retreat into isolation and take time to process – or to refuse to acknowledge – the permanence of what has happened. A cinematic device frequently used to portray grief is the physical manifestation of a person who is gone, to show the externalization of that loneliness in a tangible and visible way. Magic Hour employs that concept in its familiar look at a woman working her through devastation.

Erin (Katie Aselton) and Charlie (Daveed Diggs) arrive to a beautiful home in the desert to get away from everything. Their time together indicates some disagreements and a harrowing event they’ve been through together, which it soon becomes clear is Charlie’s recent death. As friends and family notice that Erin doesn’t seem to be doing very well, she clings to every time Charlie appears next to her in bed or just outside the house, desperate to get whatever time with him she still can, even if, in moments of lucidity, she is aware that he’s gone and that whatever conversations she’s having with this figment of her imagination, however lovely and therapeutic they may be, are not real.

Aselton, best known as an actress, returns with her fourth feature film as director with something much more serious than The Freebie and Mack & Rita, and which doesn’t feature death as something to be afraid of like in Black Rock. Instead, this somber film, from a screenplay by Aselton and her husband, Mark Duplass, is all about a romantic relationship that audiences are simply getting to see only after it ends. There are a few flashbacks to recorded messages left by one for the other, but those are only part of the story. What Erin is getting to do after losing Charlie is to revisit all the things she wanted to talk about but never got a chance to, and to reassess different formative memories to see if they mean what she thought they did or if, maybe, she can find a new piece of Charlie she never previously discovered.

It’s established relatively early on in the film that Charlie is dead, and even though Erin doesn’t want to ignore him any time he appears, she does know that he’s gone. This is her way of dealing with that loss and of recreating fights and positive times they had together to not have to say goodbye. It’s a device that has been used countless times throughout the history of cinema, and there’s nothing about its function in this film that sets it apart. But it does still pack an emotional punch, especially since there is clearly unfinished business between them and, each time Erin seems to be tethering herself more to the present, she expresses tremendous elation when Charlie reappears to her, not truly absent as she had worried but still there to accompany her through a very difficult journey.

Even if the film’s setup isn’t new or refreshing, Aselton centers it with her layered performance, which has her navigating a range of emotions. The moments of joy she finds with Charlie – and occasionally with others who try to offer her support – are uplifting, but this film doesn’t try to paint a rosy picture of loss, spending time in the desolation and loneliness that Erin feels each time Charlie disappears and she’s doesn’t know when, or if, she’ll see him again. Diggs portrays Charlie as kind but opinionated, more three-dimensional than some idealized tribute to a saint and also having fun with the fact that he’s apparently privy to more information now that he’s dead. Aselton shows a solid vision for her latest film, which has something to say even if it doesn’t feel all that innovative or original.

Movie Rating: 6/10