‘Edge Of Summer’: Glasgow Review

Dir/scr: Lucy Cohen. UK. 2023. 98mins

When 11-year-old Evie (Flora Hylton) arrives in Cornwall in August 1991 for a holiday with her mother, she is unprepared for what awaits. That’s not just local boy Adam (Joel Sefton-Iongi), who stirs up exciting new feelings, but a set of discoveries that will begin to rip away her innocence. Lucy Cohen’s debut dramatic feature is heavy with possibility and potential danger. Taking place in a pre-digital age, the story has an appealing simplicity, even if its real and more fantastical elements do not quite gel together. And while confronting difficult themes from a youngster’s perspective is laudable, it’s still unikely to make the film stand out in a crowded coming-of-age market.

Infused with a raw naturalism

Edge of Summer draws on Cohen’s considerable experience in documentary; she has made non-fiction programmes for the BBC (which supports here, along with BFI) and Channel 4, and her Bafta- and BIFA-nominated feature doc, Kingdom Of Us (2017) was acquired by Netflix. Her drama debut is infused with a raw naturalism, with evocative early-90s production design from Iain Andrews and striking Cornish locations.

For Evie, the long, hot, lazy hours of summer are initially something to be endured, even if they are being spent by the glorious Cornish coast. With the surprise arrival of a ‘family friend’ named Tony (Steffan Rhodri) quickly claiming her mother Yvonne’s (Josie Walker) attention. Evie finds herself alone, an awkward interloper amongst the local kids who make it clear she is unwelcome. Newcomer Hylton effectively captures Evie’s loneliness as an outsider, not only of this Cornish community but also of her previously solid relationship with her parents. 

When Evie meets the dark-haired, freckled Adam, however, there seems to be an instant connection. Like Evie, who is struggling to understand why her parents need ‘space’ from one another, Adam is also coping with a difficult family situation. His father disappeared three years previously and Adam’s hazy flashbacks suggest a truth he is unwilling to embrace; and one his mother Debbie (Nichola Burley) is unwilling to share. They also lead him to explore the now-abandoned tin mine in which his father worked, with Evie in tentative tow.

Sequences in the mine introduce an otherworldly element to the narrative. As the space contracts from the blue skies and endless Cornish horizons, camerawork from Rachel Clark becomes shadowy and oppressive. When the children hear banging echoing from the depths of the mine, they are convinced it’s ‘knockers’ – mythical creatures said to live in the walls. Initially, it seems as if the film will blend the real and the imagined, giving the kids a fantastical outlet for their above-ground fears. But, as their understanding grows, childhood monsters give way to more knotty real world concerns which will, ultimately, motivate both to finally confront the truth about their own families. 

This emotionally fraught narrative path does lead to some melodramatic moments, such as a public clash at a community event, and some suspension of disbelief is required in regards to how Adam and, particularly, the straight-laced Evie respond to their tin mine discovery, which itself plays like a convenient dramatic contrivance. More convincing is the film’s depiction of the oncoming of adulthood. Sefton-Iongi, also in his first role, moves between vulnerability and defiant aggression as he attempts, in vain, to assume the role of man of the house. And, after Evie celebrates her twelfth birthday, her butterfly bracelet, neon bumbag and cartoon t-shirts are slowly replaced by midriff-revealing tops, sparkling chokers and eyeliner; the childish fairy stickers she places on her window peel and warp as her interest moves elsewhere. 

That sense of being on the edge of change is not just reserved for the children, but for their mothers, too. While these characters take a back seat, both Yvonne and Debbie attempt to come to terms with the absence of a partner, try to spare their children pain — and find it hard to adapt to their increasing maturity. 

Shouldering the majority of the film, Hylton and Sefton-Iongi are confident and convincing in their roles, capturing the first flushes of an attraction that never turns physical — besides a brief hug or a tentative handhold — but develop into a love of sorts. The camera often assumes Evie’s gaze, lingering on Adam’s shoulder or the back of his neck. Such warm flushes of youth are always tempered, however, by the pair’s burgeoning awareness of life’s sharper edges.