Pawlikowski, the youngish director who caught the festival circuit's attention with 2000's Last Resort, here spends a languorous 83 minutes with two young girls in the Yorkshire countryside, which he shoots with a warm, sun-flared palette rather than the usual rainy greens and greys.
Mona (Nathalie Press) is a twitchy working-class teenager. She has just been dumped by her boyfriend, a married thick-as-bricks hooligan who shags like a jackhammer. Left in the lurch, she feels her inevitable future, married with kids in her drab Yorkshire valley, stabbing her like an awl; her parents have died and she lives with her brother, Phil, upstairs from the family pub. Phil (Paddy Considine), a former bad seed with brawling and a jail term in his recent past, has gotten the Jesus bug bad; he's turned the pub into a centre for born-again Christians and is endeavouring to erect a giant iron-and-wood cross on the hill above their town.
One day, out for a ride on her engineless moped, Mona meets Tamsin (Emily Blunt), a dark and heavy-lidded upper-class seductress out for a ride in the countryside astride her thoroughbred. Tamsin is left alone for the summer in her family's sprawling mansion, and soon the girls are inseparable - they
In the paean of teenage-girl-love art movies, My Summer of Love fits in rather temperamentally. Pawlikowski, who is Polish, has a strange sidelong interest in British culture; you can almost see him trying to reinvent naturalism out of the hands of other British masters. His Mona is not slatternly and his Tamsin not shrill, and nothing is as raw as it would be under Leigh's or Frear's lenses. If anything, My Summer of Love resembles Lynne Ramsay's Morvern Callar in its wandering, hazy eroticism - and that's about all. For all the frenetic potential of his nubile stars, Pawlikowski seems more interested in exploring the space around and between them than the secrets of their sex. This isn't Thirteen, or even Heavenly Creatures.
The nicest thing of all about this beautiful, lyrical mood fugue is that Pawlikowski keeps everything vague and textured, trusting his actresses to play like shadows in the sun, more interesting as shifting shapes than sharp details.
My Summer of Love
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