An anthology movie that drifts by with the laziness of a summer day on the lake where it is set, writer and director Sierra Falconer’s debut feature never builds to a profound crescendo, but it’s accomplished in style and substance all the same. A loosely autobiographical series of stories set around the Michigan lake near where Falconer grew up, each of Sunfish (& Other Stories on Green Lake)’s four chapters breezily captures compact moments in time that nonetheless possess a powerful emotional undercurrent. A disaffected teenage girl is dropped off at the lake house of the grandparents she barely knows while her mother embarks on a surprise honeymoon with her new husband, and becomes enamored with sailing. A boy with an overbearing mother wrestles with the pressures of being chosen as first chair at his summer camp’s concert. A disillusioned bartender recognizes a fellow dreamer in a fisherman set on catching an enormous fish he swears he saw in the lake, and determines to help him. Two sisters help care for the Hollywood-based family boarding with them— and each other— putting off the inevitable separation when the older one leaves for college.
Anthology films are inherently difficult. It isn’t merely that some segments are more compelling than others; it’s finding the through line, the thread that unites them all, and the capper for a satisfying outcome. The four stories in Sunfish don’t really share any thematic commonalities; besides the conclusion of the penultimate story being referenced in the final one, they aren’t connected at all, beyond being set on the same lake around the same time. But perhaps it’s because Falconer isn’t reaching so hard for something that isn’t there or isn’t necessary that Sunfish works regardless. Every story is an immaculately rendered microcosm of the high hopes and dashed dreams that so often accompany small town life. Tiny victories are followed by (what feel like) massive failures, and pangs of love and loss ripple through the characters like the waves on the lake. Some of the more minor supporting characters succumb to broad characterizations that pull the viewer out of this world (the pushy mom in the second chapter, or the misogynistic shop keeper in the third chapter), but for the most part, each performer— especially the younger actors— inhabits their role with a groundedness that helps us recognize their emotions, even if we don’t relate to the specific circumstances they are manifested in.
In only her first film, Falconer demonstrates a powerful command of the cinematic language. Her transitions from chapter to chapter are so seamless, it may be hard to note the shift were it not for the title text that accompanies the start of each one. Every sun-kissed shot shines with natural light, every scene is populated with the sounds of birds chirping or water lapping against the shore. Any unevenness in the storytelling is smoothed out by the film’s warm atmosphere and sense of place, and a finale so gently moving that— despite not technically connecting to the stories that came before it— ties it all together.
Sunfish (& Other Stories on Green Lake) is playing in select theaters and will be available to watch on demand on all digital platforms on November 4. Runtime: 87 minutes.
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