'Supernova' Review: Queer Memory Fading Fast
In Harry Macqueen’s “Supernova”, Stanley Tucci and Colin Firth tenderly depict the harsh realities of dementia’s relentless assault on a longtime gay relationship.
The first words spoken in “Supernova” are a lovely little threat: “We’re not going back, you know.” When Sam (Colin Firth) utters those words to his dementia-ridden husband, Tusker (Stanley Tucci), it’s both a reminder of his spouse’s ailment (Tusker insisted he pack his own bag) and a harbinger of the final scenes of the film. From the back of their RV, we watch the couple playfully bicker, separated by lines in the middle of the road. The audience often observes the two from this angle, watching the couple gaze out onto the endless road, sometimes connected by the gentle clasping of hands, oftentimes not. Regardless of Sam and Tusker’s twisting, turbulent journey, mentally speaking, we remain in this shot, voyeurs of the inevitable consequences of dementia.
There is a whole separate discussion to be had in regards to the sexual orientations of the actors. Spoiler alert: they’re straight. It’s a problem that warrants attention, but since it’s very unspecific to “Supernova” (there are hundreds of films that fall under that same umbrella), maybe we save that can of worms for another time. Regardless of its casting, “Supernova’s” themes touch upon an aspect of queer life that, for the most part, sits silently collecting dust high up on a shelf. Gay people get old too. It’s a shocking revelation, but if you didn’t know, now you know.
In the current landscape of LGBTQ+ cinema, queer stories centered around older queer characters are a rarity. The gay teenager in need of coming out, the older woman or man exploring their queer life, the happily-ever-after twinks, one flamboyant and the other stoic, countless stories featuring these types queer characters have been rendered. But older queer couples? Now there’s a significantly untapped market. Despite some minor missteps, “Supernova” feels like a diamond in the rough. Director, Harry Macqueen, masterfully coaxes out empathy from Tucci and Firth, wielding it as a brush, painting a landscape of the lives of these characters.
Following his directorial debut, “Hinterland,” Macqueen’s follow up functions somewhat as a road trip movie. From its compact car conversations along winding paths to its painterly exterior cinematography, the movie for better or (sometimes) worse, never lets audiences forget about the mundanity and intimacy of a road trip. What separates “Supernova” from its peers, both in the road trip and queer movie canons respectively, is the introduction of Tusker’s worsening dementia. As a snarky writer teetering on the verge of a looming mental collapse Stanley Tucci, the disease’s captive, depicts the condition with specificity and poise. Tucci’s impressiveness comes from his ability to decide when to let the cracks of his mental state show, rather than overperform the disease. Similarly, Firth delivers a nuanced performance as a husband unwilling to let go, always with a furrowed brow - even when smiling.
“Supernova” also allows for something that audiences familiar with Tucci and Firth’s other work may not be accustomed to; they’re allowed to act their age. There’s something very foreign about seeing the duo act so withered, both emotionally and physically. Both men are accustomed to inhabiting the role of an older gentleman, calm, collected, funny, with a youthful spirit. “Supernova” dares to let Colin Firth, who single-handedly destroyed a fleet of brainwashed racists in “Kingsmen: The Secret Service,” and Stanley Tucci, the scene-stealing, colorful, and charismatic talk show host from “The Hunger Games,” throughout the early 2010s, be old. If the film’s plot weren’t enough to make one feel their age, seeing these men have trouble getting out of bed surely will.
Its queerness is powerfully subtle at best, verging on accidental at worst. It’s both refreshing and unfamiliar to see queerness depicted so quietly. It’s somewhat bittersweet in that regard because, at points, it feels like “Supernova” could look further into how an illness like dementia can affect queer people specifically. After all, so much of LGBTQ+ culture nowadays is focused on remembering the past. Whether it be cultural moments or queer icons, the ability to remember and then act on those remembrances is an important part of the queer experience. To have an older gay man contract the wrecking ball of dementia, threatening to erase a life that was presumably so difficult to build - that is what “Supernova” is. And that’s not to say that it doesn’t achieve that kind of queer specificity at times, but during key moments of reflection for both characters, it can leave a yearning to gaze past the clouds and see something truly spectacular.
Though the deeper relationship between LGBTQ+ people and “forgetting” is subtextual, there are moments that peek through that will ring true to queer audiences. Many of the conversations Sam and Tusker have feel authentic to gay relationships. The level of banter and chemistry between the two men is so strong and intimate. It’s yet another reason why the performances pick up some of the pieces that the script may have glazed over, intentionally or not. However, as brilliantly introspective as its performances are, its characters are incredibly closed off to one another and their surroundings. Though this is one of the points the film wants to make, sometimes this strategy places the film within itself at times. Tusker and Sam are so isolated from each other, when they do finally attempt to reach some sort of catharsis, it feels like a weight has been lifted.
The third act of “Supernova” is particularly mesmerizing. Well acted, meticulously directed, and incredibly scored, the film’s payoff works wonders - if you decide to buy what the film is selling. Though some may not find its second conflict to be… appropriate(?), viewers who are open enough to plot movements, along with those who have invested themselves into Sam and Tusker’s road trip, will find themselves in a place that is poignant, reflective, and explosive.