Edit - Pablo brought up a fair point. If you want to go into the film blind, then read my thoughts after having watched the film. It will actually probably help my comments resonate more.
A Monster Calls came out right in the middle of period where me and my ex had unlimited cinema passes, as such we'd go and see pretty much everything that came out. What this did was open us up to wonderful films that we wouldn't have otherwise seen. Also, and this is crucial, it meant we weren't bothering to check out synopsis of films or watch trailers beforehand.
Christmas 2016 and New Year 2017 were a particularly difficult time for my family. After years of progressively getting worse, my Step Dad wasn't expected to make it through 2017, though it was felt he had a good 6 months left. A medical bed had been installed downstairs and my Mom was pushing herself to the edge of her capabilities trying to make sure he was as comfortable as possible, something very difficult to pull off when he was in constant pain and couldn't walk unaided. Their life had become confined to the living room. He was a grumpy bastard at the best of times, and these were not the best of times, though the love and affection they held shone through whenever we saw them. The Christmas of 2016 was the only time in 20 years Alec had failed to get up to Scotland to see his Dad and so Christmas Day was spent with the four of us; Mom; Alec; my brother (Alec's son) and me for the first and only time. Couple of days later, Alec's body shut down entirely. Taken to Heartlands Hospital, which is unironically known in the family as where Kesselers go to die, he was made as comfortable as possible, while my Mom stayed by his side, refusing to leave.
I'd spent New Years Eve with the boyfriend and my best friend, just the three of us. I was in a bit of a state and so instead of going out, we stayed at ours, played games, drank and laughed. The boyfriend went to bed about 03:00 and I stayed up with my best mate just talking about how I felt, namely that I was desperate Alec make it through today, New Years day. About 06:00, I finally went to bed. Before my head had even hit the pillow, my phone rang, I knew what it was.
Alec had passed away on New Years Day, 2017. On New Years Day, 1987, Edward (Ted) Kesseler had passed away. My Mom had lost her Dad and her husband on the same day, 20 years apart.
The next few days are kind of like a blur as we set about doing all the things that were necessary. When the person who's died was receiving health and council care, that means a lot more people to contact, equipment to be picked up, medical supplies to be destroyed etc. My Mom was in no place to do any of this, after a week of being awake she had essentially collapsed after Alec had died and was letting her body recuperate. This meant it fell on me and my brother to do the heavy lifting. No complaints about that in the slightest, but it did mean that I was more than a bit worn out and emotionally thin when my boyfriend told me we were going to watch a film. Told, as in I tried to wave it off due to other things that needed doing and he explained why it was important to carry on a semblance of routine.
On January 3rd 2017, I walked in to watch A Monster Calls without any idea of what I was about to watch, just that escaping into a film for a while might be a pleasant break for a few hours from reality.
A Monster Calls tells the story of a young boy whose Mom is terminally ill with Cancer. The film documents his journey through pain before the point of death, the fantastical manifestation of that upset and anger, finally reaching a point of, if not acceptance, understanding.
I have never seen a projection of grief which more accurately conveys the rage which lots of people experience in their lives, before and after, the death of a loved one. The isolation, anger and refusal to accept the truth in Lewis MacDougall's character, Conor, results in his brain constructing a huge, sentient Yew Tree, voiced by Liam Neeson, who along the film imparts four stories, all designed to help Conor process the unthinkable and say the unsayable. In particular there is a moment towards the end of the film in which the discussion goes to the guilt felt by Conor and how he felt about his Mom and the disease which resonated deeply.
There's able support by Felicity Jones as the stricken Mother, but it's Sigourney Weaver, as the maternal Grandmother, who is able to match the tour-de-force of MacDougall's performance. She is in the exact same position as Conor, unable to process what is going on, the changes to the life they all had, the impending death of her only daughter. As where Conor's unconscious creates this imaginary creature to help him cope, Weaver retreats into conformity and preciseness. Everything has a place, every needs to be correct. Finding it difficult to offer the love and support Conor needs, there's a moment in the film which just smashes through that protective layer and lets everything out. That rage, that blood spitting fury they both feel just comes tumbling out. Nothing held back, just raw, unfiltered emotion just punching you in the gut as you watch. It is an extraordinary moment of film. The shock, realisation, honesty and acceptance in a few seconds of acting from Weaver is up there with the best things she's ever done.
It will probably shock none of you to know I cried almost constantly through the film. Conor's pain was my pain, that impending death you know you're powerless to prevent, not just with my Step Dad, but also only two years earlier with Nan and Alzheimer's. That inability or fear to let how I was feeling be known, and then when I did, not being able to control its release. Even the creation of something unreal to help cope. While I don't have a massive Yew Tree telling me stories, I do disappear into my own head or other worlds when I cannot cope with the world around me. Video Games, books, movies, wrestling, they all act as my Yew Tree when I'm trying to process something using other media as a conduit.
That's what makes this film so incredibly powerful, we're watching ourselves act in ways we have all acted in. We have all lost somebody, we have all felt hopeless and incapable, we have all wanted to be somewhere else and think about something else when the pain is too much. As where a cold, adult film might convey all of this in a conventional manner, it being a film about a child allows it to explore these themes and conventions in a more creative fashion. By it being a child on the screen, we're forced to remember how we felt the first time we went through this, taking us back to the rawness of that pain and the sting which will never really leave.
It is not, by any means, an easy watch. It is upsetting, it is painful, it will spark memories that knot the stomach and tighten the throat.
But, my God, it is brilliant. We grieve because we loved. That pain we feel is a reminder of the happiness and joy that was brought into our worlds by the people that are no longer here. Pain is the price we pay for love and it is a price worth paying, every single time.