The World to Come Review

Every now and then, you get a budding new subgenre of film that seems to be rising in popularity and prominence whether people like it or not, and usually, you get a film within that subgenre that is so good that it thoroughly defines it as a movement and sets the bar for all similar movies to come. The subgenre in question is, of course, the recent rise in lesbian period piece filmmaking. The standard-setting film in question, however, is not The World to Come, but rather Celine Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire (which I have wrote about frequently already). Portrait of a Lady On Fire was such a revelatory and momentous work that it seems impossible for it to be followed up by anything so soon, and yet The World to Come is already the second period piece lesbian romance to emerge in the last year and a half since Portrait’s release. One can already begin to feel these films struggle underneath the mighty weight of such a massive example to live up to, and it’s made films like The World to Come have their work cut out for them, perhaps to a simply unfair degree.

I want to stress that I didn’t go into The World to Come wanting to dislike it, and overall I definitely can’t say I did. It’s a much more accomplished work than something like Ammonite, for instance, and while it shares some similar themes as Portrait, it does do enough to make itself stand out. Still, for everything it does interesting, it doesn’t quite have the exacting touch needed to really make something truly profound out of its subject matter, and as much as it approaches its story with a tender, poetic grace, it ultimately ends up feel a little too simplistic and dour for its own good, especially considering how profound and unique a statement the aforementioned Portrait was able to make with similar themes of female gaze, memory and companionship in the face of a harsh reality.

Ultimately, for everything good I can say about it (and I will have some good to say about it), The World to Come can’t help but feel like it’s just not doing enough to subvert its tragic moments, and winds up falling into far-too-often treaded paths of the tragic lesbian story (unlike Portrait, which again manages to subvert those tropes perfectly). It’s a beautiful, tender experience, but for many viewers it may end up making them feel hollow, as there is little amount of joy or comfort in the experience, and very little promise of a better world to give to a marginalized group that perhaps needs it more than others.

I’m going to talk about some redeeming qualities, but first I need to make clear; fuck Casey Affleck. After everything he’s done to women I have no idea why he was allowed to be a part of this project. I’m not hating on his character or his performance, I am simply saying that his history of sexual assault and harassment make his being in this movie a significant flaw, one that I am absolutely taking points off for.

Despite my misgivings about one actor, however, the acting in this film is generally very good. Christopher Abbott has been called the reigning king of Sundance, and between this and Possessor I’ve been seeing quite a few films lately where he gives an excellent performance (I’m greatly looking forward to whenever I get a chance to see On the Count of Three). But what really matters is the two leads; Vanessa Kirby and Katherine Waterston, and they have much more chemistry than the leads of the aforementioned Ammonite, which was a bore in practically every way. The protagonist, Abigail, narrates the film through her diary, which is full of poetic prose that contrasts sharply with her more plain manner of speech. The time that the two women spend together is tender and beautiful, and this more than anything else makes the film worth the watch; when it lets itself just be a stripped back love piece between two women, it excels the most.

It also very notably has some of the most beautiful cinematography and direction (courtesy of director Mona Fastvold and DP André Chemetoff). There’s not much to say about this except that the film is simply marvelous to look at, with bleak yet beautiful images of natural vistas pervading the experience.

I don’t think The World to Come is going to be a particularly well remembered classic in the future, nor will it achieve any sort of infamy either. It’s a good film that I genuinely did enjoy, but next to something like Portrait, which I can’t help but compare it to, it’s just an inferior and forgettable film. There are certainly worse things a film can be than a poor woman’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire, but there are certainly better things too.