‘A Ghost Story’ Advocates for Earnest Pursuits of Art and Love
Who knew ghosts were so… reflective?
A Ghost Story has been on my to-watch list for two years. After watching The Green Knight in 2021 during the thick of the Covid season, I was curious about David Lowery as a filmmaker. His highly visual storytelling, attention to detail, and fascination with big and meaty existential themes were thrilling.
His other well-known work, A Ghost Story, is one I had heard much about as one of A24’s many darlings. So when we decided to do an “A24 August” series on the Movies & Us Podcast, we jumped at the opportunity to watch and discuss this film.
I’m happy to report that A Ghost Story lived up to its hype.
After months of big and flashy summer blockbusters, this film was everything I hoped it would be. I haven’t been this excited and ignited about a film in a long time.
Let’s dive into the aspects of this film that were particularly captivating to me.
Note: spoilers for A Ghost Story ahead.
Creating Intimacy Through Stillness
This film is incredibly meditative. I was floored at how much A Ghost Story invites the viewer into quiet stillness. In the first 10 minutes of the film, I found myself needing to quiet and slow my frenetic mind. As a product of modern life, I needed to wade into this film and give myself over to what it desires from its viewers.
Throughout A Ghost Story, we frequently linger in intimate moments with our main characters. These moments, with the camera completely still, last far longer than I expected. It’s almost as if when I am ready to move on to the next moment, the film pushes me and beckons me to go deeper still.
These prolonged pauses opened up deeper layers of emotion and empathy for the characters and the moments they were experiencing in the story. I felt more intimately connected with them because I was invited and given the full space and time to connect with the moments I was experiencing onscreen.
There is an absolutely stunning scene in the first half of the film that is seared into my being. This moment involves pie, as all good things do.
One of the main characters (Rooney Mara) sits on her kitchen floor eating pie (and later crying into her pie) to soothe the pain of her loss. This scene lasts for what feels like forever and gives the luxurious abundance of nearly 5 minutes and an entirely still camera.
It is one of the most understated portrayals of grief I’ve ever seen, but also one of the most effective depictions of human emotion I’ve ever seen. We see the progression of her emotion sink in over the course of those 5 minutes and the deeply human nuances of the way those emotions intensify. The expression of her grief begins to be revealed slowly at first and then comes rushing through as the floodgates swing open.
The scene gave me the luxury of time to fully experience these emotions with her. It also afforded me the space to let my thoughts and emotions wander to the ghost, the personification of her deceased husband (Casey Affleck), in the background of that shot.
What must it be like to watch the people you love mourn your loss? How agonizing must it be to see them in pain in front of you but be unable to comfort them? I appreciated that the film gave me abundant space to explore and go deeper into the thoughts and feelings of that moment.
In some ways, I’d like to give myself that same permission in my real life that David Lowery so wisely gave his viewers in the film: permission to dwell, to feel, to linger, and to go deeper.
Existentialism That Fuels Meaning Instead of Hopelessness
I was fascinated by the way A Ghost Story seems to be structured into two halves.
In the first half of the film, the focus is on the micro-scale of the lives of two individuals. In the second half of the film, the film seems to shift and expand its scope to larger thematic commentary about time, the transformation of civilization, the role of art and creative pursuits in light of existentialism, and so on.
This inflection point happens during the party scene where the man gives a long monologue questioning and defending the purpose of artistic pursuits given the enormity of time and human progress or demise.
The existential themes are obvious in A Ghost Story. The whole storyline is centered around a man who has passed but is personified as a ghost reflecting on his life and his role in the larger human narrative.
I was impressed by the film’s ability the grapple with these existential themes without descending into hopelessness, as is often tempting when exploring reflections on human existence. Instead of depicting musings that have undertones of “nothing matters,” A Ghost Story suggests that art and love, even in small pursuits at the micro-level of individual lives, have an impact and are worthy of our pursuit.
If we view the ghost, the personification of the deceased husband, as a character, then the journey he goes on as he observes his life through the eye holes of a sheet is self-acceptance of the worthy pursuits he made in his life. The ending moment is the ultimate point of view of this film which poses many questions along the way.
The ghost disappears after finally finding and discovering the note that his wife put into the wall. It’s when he reads that note that he achieves what he was looking for and no longer needs to reflect and wander here in the earthly realm.
We never find out what was written on that note, but the existence of the note itself is evidence of his wife’s love for him. He recognizes and accepts that the little life he lived, pursuing his art in creating music and loving his wife, was enough.
This is a contrast to a small scene earlier in the film where the other ghost from the house next door disappears after saying, “I don’t think they’re coming back.” This ghost has given up on waiting. This is a statement of hopelessness. And this ghost, too, has found a form of self-acceptance about a believed truth.
So while both ghosts achieve a sense of acceptance, one is characterized by meaning and purpose, while the other’s is characterized by defeat and hopelessness.
So while A Ghost Story poses existential questions about the purpose of creating art and loving well in light of the enormity of human existence, I believe that the ending of the film is key in understanding my interpretation of the film’s ultimate point of view. Others may have very different perspectives, and this is one of the film’s best traits.
The visual poetry of A Ghost Story allows each viewer to bring themselves to this film, inviting us to quiet our minds as we go deep with its characters and with ourselves.
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