The voiceover is a tricky cinematic device. It can be overused and feel both clumsy and obvious; or appear as a heavy-handed technique at the beginning and end of the film to explain what the audience should feel. If used precisely, it helps draw the viewer into the world of the film and the experience of the character(s). Dear Zoe is in the latter category, as the voiceover, used through most of the film, serves as a letter written by teenager Tess (Sadie Sink) to her deceased baby sister Zoe (MacKenzie Noel Rusiewicz). Through this letter, the audience learns of Tess’ grief and anguish in the months following Zoe’s death, as well as Tess’ strained relationships with her mother Elly (Jessica Capshaw), stepfather David (Justin Bartha) and stepsister Emily (Vivien Lyra Blair), as well as her biological father Nick (Theo Rossi) and potential new boyfriend Jimmy (Kweku Collins).
Through this focused narrative device, director Glen Wells crafts a story with a wide scope and thoroughly nuanced emotion. The film opens with the death of Zoe and much of the first act is visually inflected from Tess’ perspective. The camera often looks past her which places the audience in her position, seeing what going around her but removed from those events. Sudden edits on graphic matches add to this sense of detachment, Tess trapped in the moment of grief rather than being able to process her loss. When she does move on, or at least run-away, to Nick, the film moves into a more traditional storytelling approach and indeed familiar genre beats. Nick is something of a slacker, dealing with unemployment with a sense of entitlement over what he is ‘worth’, yet unable to commit to a genuine career and instead seeking illegal gains for which he offers trite although charming justification. There is the bad boy next door, Jimmy, who Nick wants her to avoid so you know they should get together. And there are some adorable puppies because it is clear that Nick has a lot of love to give. Tess’ summer job at a local amusement park comes complete with sassy co-worker Vicky (Tanyell Waivers), a working montage and some sweet moments between Tess and Jimmy. Notably, the main action of the film features less voiceover, which serves to illustrate the change and development in Tess.
And after witnessing the painful learning that Tess goes through, it is a stern-hearted viewer who can suppress a tear.
All of these elements may sound clichéd, but Wells’ direction as well as Marc Lhormer and Melissa Martin’s screenplay (based on Philip Beard’s novel) carries an emotional naturalism to engage viewers with the well-rounded characters. At the centre is Tess, played with utter conviction by Sadie Sink. The breakout star of Stranger Things and Fear Street (not to mention Taylor Swift’s music video All Too Well) occupies every scene in the film and demonstrates complete command of the screen. Whether weeping over her sister’s death, sulking on the couch because of her father’s rules or berating her mother, Sink takes the viewer on every step of Tess’ journey. Tess is a nuanced and detailed character, understandable and flawed, at times a bratty teenager and other times a traumatised figure. In some respects, she is forced to grow up too fast, in others she is clearly a self-obsessed child. The beautiful balance of the various elements that constitute this character – script, performance, direction, make-up, costume, cinematography, editing – combine into someone that we want to follow, support, berate and sometimes just embrace in a comforting hug. As Nick, Theo Rossi is also an elevation beyond cliché, demonstrating genuine warmth as well as humility due to his being, in his own words, a shitty dad. The other characters are perhaps underserved, but that is reasonable given the tight focus on Tess and her responses to others.
The film also offers a sociological texture, as the environment of Nick contrasts sharply with that of David and Elly, making Tess’ movement there one of class as much as family. Wells’ direction is again precise as she juxtaposes Tess’ journey with images of her environment, the industrial backdrop of Pittsburgh presented as context for the people she encounters at the amusement park where she works, Nick’s neighbourhood and his church. The various familiar beats do not, thankfully, include Tess learning profound life lessons from the noble poor of the borough of Braddock, but growing as a person simply through her encounters with new people and different surroundings.
Speaking of different surroundings, the national backdrop of Dear Zoe also speaks to grief and trauma, taking place in the aftermath of 9/11. News broadcasts and dialogue references are the main presence of this national trauma, and a criticism could be made of the film’s focus on individual tragedy in the midst of much wider events. However, such criticism would seem churlish since individual stories do continue in the midst of wider narratives, and the struggle to move beyond the moment of trauma and loss is one that continues. In the film’s final act, the number 12 appears at a significant moment, suggesting the potential to move beyond grief towards mourning. Rather than a neat ending, the film’s finale points towards a future, where problems and challenges continue but there is greater knowledge about how to face them. And after witnessing the painful learning that Tess goes through, it is a stern-hearted viewer who can suppress a tear.
DEAR ZOE IS AVAILABLE TO WATCH ON DIGITAL PLATFORMS
