Blue Heron (2026) Review

 There’s a quiet magic at work in Sophy Romvari’s feature-length debut. Fresh off an incredible run on the festival circuit, this indie darling has been hailed by many respected critics as the best film of the year. Romvari has made no bones about how personal this film is to her, and I think that brings up a lot of interesting questions about autofiction. Centered around a young girl whose brother is struggling with his mental health, it’s a tender film that is full of beautifully-composed shots, but there is also a certain distance that, at times, detracts from the emotional weight of those very images.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JeWg8wUlQVo

              This distance is certainly baked into the very DNA of the film. Romvari is not just trying to recreate her past, but is instead exploring the gaps between memories, embracing how the past is something always elusive and impossible to recreate with exact precision. This could be why it’s a collection of fragments, with most of the important information communicated through shards of overheard conversations. That said, the limits the film imposes on itself—Sasha’s brother being as unknowable to us as he was to her and the narrative’s priority of memory over experience—creates a strange tension between the hyper-restricted narrative and the stylish photography. For many critics, this seems to have really worked, creating a haunting effect where viewers are shown something that’s always just out of reach; personally, I think it resulted in my being able to observe the beauty in this film, but having a hard time really feeling its emotional weight. This distance also contributes to the discourse around autofiction and the ethics of filmmaking.

              Jeremy, Sasha’s brother, is portrayed with some warmth; we see him engaged in family activities and interacting with his little siblings, but in general we never really learn a lot about him. His hobbies, interests, humor, etc. all remain elusive. We know he makes maps, we don't know why. This is obviously done because, despite Jeremy’s mental health being a core engine for the movie, it is firmly grounded in Sasha’s POV; but because of that, it turns into a kind of negative space portrait where the character can easily become defined more for his struggles than his whole self. The fact that there is a narratively sound reason for this doesn’t negate the fact that he feels underdeveloped, and that’s a serious issue when dealing with a mentally ill character. Sure, we get some more about him when the film takes an interesting jump in time as contemporary psychologists discuss how someone with Jeremy’s condition would’ve been failed by the healthcare system of 1990s America (this critic would argue that even now there’s no real services in the US for people like this), but I would have liked his character to have more agency instead of us always learning about him vicariously. The ending captures my issues with the film perfectly (spoilers ahead!) In a slightly surreal moment, memory and filmmaking and time itself all collapse, and older Sasha is walking in a field with her still-teenage older brother, who has been presumed dead for a while by this point in the film. She reads a letter someone wrote about him and his ghostly character smiles, not doing anything but sitting there. There’s a long tradition of turning the dead or suffering into symbols or muses, more emotional anchors for the protagonist’s journey than anything else. It’s an aestheticization of something that perhaps shouldn’t feel as neat or clean as it does. This is a common problem with autofiction in general, but especially when the text is being pushed forward by mental health issues that aren’t the author’s. When presenting topics like this as personal truth, I believe artists take on a different level of authority and accountability. I do think the intention was kind, and the empathy of the camera is clear. We never see Jeremy at his worst or doing anything particularly dangerous, but his lack of agency, inner life, and voice remains an issue. It feels as though that ending is serving the filmmaker/protagonist’s need for closure more than the Jeremy as a person.

              I do think it’s a beautifully rendered film, though! The lush lighting and intimate handheld camerawork of DP Maya Bankovic creates a sense of a living memory, bathing each scene in a deep warmth. This is a film about stillness, but the camera does a lot of very elegant movements that do a lot to slowly reveal narrative tensions. This also speaks to how strongly the film is edited thanks to some great work by Kurt Walker.  There’s very little music, and I actually appreciate the restraint shown in a lot of moments on that front. What music is present is perfectly placed and beautifully composed. I do think this movie is worth watching, but maybe not for the price of admission in this economy. I know I’m outvoted by my fellow critics, but it feels like Romvari just barely fails to hit the mark she was going for. Blue Heron is now in theaters, but consider catching it on the Criterion Channel once its brief theatrical run is over.