Movies are best when they take you inside their illusions and make it feel like a memory of your own. Our greatest directors use the form to show us the true, non-linear nature of time. The past intruding on the future - drawing us back ceaselessly. The future interrogating and interrupting the “truth” of the past. Always tied to those we loved and those who loved us. Those who are no longer with us or who have changed beyond recognition.
Like physical memorials, these are tied to specific places and times and smells and tastes. A cold rush of metallic water from a hose. The slippery rocks beneath your feet as waves crash down. The primal fear and terror of seeing your parents anxious and scared.
Blue Heron is a transportive masterpiece. As the director and her avatar traverse time to feel and live the sweetness and terror of her childhood, it feels as if these are your own memories. And perhaps they are.
A devastating work of empathy and grace.