Sometimes, it feels like nothing more can be said about the emotion of grief, a feeling so ancient that it has been written about for at least 4,000 years and so universal that it has been observed in crows, elephants and whales. This makes a film like “Everytime” all the more necessary — a spectral and iridescent masterpiece that explores an all-too recognizable emotion in a wholly unique way.
The winner of the Un Certain Regard prize at the 2026 Cannes Film Festival and Germany’s submission for the Academy Award for Best International Feature, “Everytime” was screened at the Violet Crown Cinema Thursday night as part of the Virginia Film Festival’s Spotlight Screenings and International Oscar Contenders. Colin Vess, guest services coordinator at VAFF, introduced the film to the audience.
“Our entire programming team fell in love with it, to say the least,” Vess said.
The film, directed by Austrian director Sandra Wollner in her third feature, starts by introducing its main quartet — mother Ella, daughters Jessie and Melli and Jessie’s boyfriend Lux. Wollner takes her time through this first act, letting the viewer absorb the family’s relatable dynamic. Jessie, an apparently rebellious spirit, sneaks out of her room at night, dances in a club and later relaxes on a rooftop with Lux. Then, in one of the most extraordinary scenes of the year, she falls off the roof and plunges to her death, bathed in the red and golden hues of the sunrise.
Thus begins the second act, several months later, where Ella, Melli and Lux attempt to continue their lives with some sense of normalcy. Wollner generally shies away from intense bursts of emotion, only occasionally doling them out for maximum effectiveness. The trio seem relatively quaint on the outside, but it is through the film’s visual touches that the Jessie-shaped void in their lives begins to take form. The importance of “Aftersun” cinematographer Gregory Oke’s contributions to this film is impossible to overstate. In one scene, the camera languorously zooms onto Lux as he swims in a river. With the warm glow of the evening sun shimmering on the water, Lux appears as the only person in an infinite ocean, a perfect representation of the isolation that comes with grief.
Wollner explores the film’s central theme through multiple aspects, but one of its most intriguing is the effect of technology on the grieving process. Multiple scenes dispersed throughout the film show a character flying through a Minecraft-esque video game, which Jessie was shown playing in the film’s beginning. Melli is captured regularly texting Jessie’s phone number, while digital artifacts of Jessie, such as photos and home videos, are frequently shown in montage. And, in one indelible scene, a mysterious drone briefly flies around Ella, casting the “deceased returning as a bird” idea in a new light. Despite Jessie’s death, it never feels like she’s truly gone, as if a part of her continues to reside in the digital world. It is one of few films that truly reckons with what it means to grieve in this new technological era.
After Lux returns from a semester abroad, he begins to form a familial bond with Ella and Melli, but it is clear that his latent guilt continues to persist. So Ella whisks the two away on an impromptu trip to Tenerife, Spain. This decision introduces the film’s unbelievable third act — prismatic and captivating — one of the most audacious acts in modern film. Ezra Walcott, audience member and Crozet resident, spoke about the film’s end compared to the previous two acts.
“It definitely had a slow start, but by the end, I found it really compelling,” Walcott said. “It’s hard to describe it, but it’s very interesting and beautiful, in a way.”
Amid the rocky shores and mountains of Tenerife, reality itself begins to bend, and a series of fantastical events begin to occur. In one scene, Melli texts Jessie, and is shocked when Jessie begins texting back. It becomes unclear what time or place the characters are in, or if what they are experiencing is even real. This portion of the film culminates in an unforgettable intersection between the past and present, when the family encounter a toddler-aged Jessie in a moment eerily reminiscent of one of the family’s home videos. Bolstered by Oke’s arresting cinematography and David Schweighart’s enchanting electronic score, the film’s surreal final scenes are nothing short of breathtaking.
Viewers may walk away from “Everytime” confused, and Wollner never provides easy answers throughout the film’s 120-minute runtime, but it is through this state of uncertainty that the film displays the true nature of grief. It is mysterious and ever-changing, able to obliterate the bounds of space and time. “Everytime” is a film that stands on its own, and even without a clear understanding, its hypnotic power has the capacity to linger in the minds of viewers for a long time.