‘Something You Said Last Night’: Review

Dir: Luis De Filippis. Canada/Switzerland. 2022. 96mins

This delightfully warm debut from Canadian-Italian filmmaker Luis De Filippis whisks us up in the breezy summer holiday energy of a family. In the process, she also gives us a break from the worn out cliches and trauma-driven narratives often dished out by films with transgender characters, gently resting the themes and arc of Something You Said Last Night on the ebb and flow of parent and child dynamics, rather than the gender identity of her central character Ren (talented newcomer Carmen Madonia).

Trans characters often suffer from one-note representation in films; Ren, in refreshing contrast, is complex

De Filippis’ debut short For Nonna Anna won the Special Jury Prize at Sundance in 2018 and she’s continued her winning form, deservedly picking up this year’s Changemaker Award after her feature premiered in Toronto. It took its European bow in San Sebastian’s New Director’s sidebar and its relatable themes and lightness of touch, inspired by the director’s own experiences, should see it win festival audiences and distributors well beyond the LGBTQ+ circuit.

Ren (Madonia) who is in her mid-twenties, is perfectly happy with her sense of self. The idea of going on holiday with her Canadian-Italian family is, however, less appealing – not because they have any issue with her, but because she’s keeping the fact that she’s lost her job a secret from her mother. We only need to be in the car with Ren’s clan for five minutes to see the dynamics at play, as firecracker mum Mona (Ramona Milano) and more submissive dad Guido (Joe Parro) bop away to cheesy Italian hit ’Sara perche ti amo’ (’It will be because I love you’) by Richie and Poveri in the front, while Ren and her younger sister Siena (Paige Evans) roll their eyes at one another in the back.

The opposing forces of hugging your family close and pulling away towards independence are to the fore when, at a rest stop, Mona asks Ren if she wants her to come with her to the bathroom and has the offer brushed off by her eldest daughter. This is the sort of incident that peppers a narrative built not on massive plot twists but on the small dramas that will resonate with anyone who has been on a family holiday; including lost keys, disagreements over vaping, flirtation and not calling mum when you should. 

De Filippis presents the family like a rapidly changing weather system as they thunder into the resort. At times, storms rage and quickly blow over. At others we watch as a squally argument plays out between two characters while, in a different part of the room, another taps absent-mindedly on their phone as though nothing is happening. This constantly shifting mood is stoked by strong sound design from Gina Keller, so that we frequently listen to one scenario playing out off-screen while the camera focuses on another.

Trans characters often suffer from one-note representation in films. Ren, in refreshing contrast, is complex and arguably the most self-confident member of her family; it’s her sister who throws a T-shirt on top of her bikini, her mum who insists on having her hair dried straight and her dad who reacts with horror over how he’s depicted on a birthday card. 

De Filippis has an eye for the nuances of family life, including the ease with which siblings can push each other’s buttons and all the imperceptible ways that simply being with family can wear you down into enjoying yourself even if you’re dead set against it. Madonia and Evans are perfectly cast, conveying the fluid nature of a sibling relationship that can run from anger to regret to laughter in a matter of moments, while Milano’s livewire performance channels the boisterous mothering spirit of a million matriarchs. The director also often pulls back to take in the bigger picture, so we can see the casual but intimate gestures that indicate just how much one person cares for another. 

Cinematographer Norm Li matches De Filippis’ loose limbed approach, also capturing life’s little incidental moments – a friendship anklet, the remains of a slice of watermelon or an iPod resting on a bare chest –  all of it speaking to summertime and moments with family when you can simply be yourself.