The Fragile Art of Saying Goodbye: Why 'The State of Us' Might Just Break Your Heart (and That’s a Good Thing)
There’s something about a film that dares to tackle the messiness of grief, friendship, and youth that immediately grabs my attention. The State of Us, directed by Ollie Gardner and Jake Harvey, is one such film. But what makes this particularly fascinating is how it avoids the typical pitfalls of the ‘terminal illness’ genre. Instead of wallowing in melodrama, it opts for something far more raw and authentic: a final hurrah that’s equal parts chaotic, tender, and unapologetically human.
A Friendship That Feels Like Home
At its core, the film is about Frankie (Samuel Bottomley) and Taylor (Callum Scott Howells), two childhood friends navigating the impossible weight of Taylor’s terminal cancer diagnosis. Frankie, in a move that’s both reckless and deeply loving, breaks Taylor out of hospice for one last night of freedom. What unfolds isn’t just a night of debauchery—it’s a poignant exploration of what it means to love someone when time is running out.
Personally, I think what stands out here is the chemistry between Bottomley and Howells. It’s not just about their performances (though they’re stellar); it’s the way they capture the unspoken language of lifelong friendship. The kind where you don’t need words to understand each other. One thing that immediately stands out is how the film avoids romanticizing their bond. It’s messy, it’s flawed, and it’s real. That’s what makes it so relatable.
Masculinity, Redefined
One of the most compelling aspects of The State of Us is its subtle commentary on masculinity. Gardner and Harvey have said they want young men to see themselves in the film, to recognize that vulnerability and love aren’t weaknesses. From my perspective, this is a much-needed message in an industry that often equates masculinity with stoicism.
What many people don’t realize is how rare it is to see male friendships portrayed with such depth and nuance. Frankie and Taylor joke around, they push boundaries, but they also lean on each other in ways that feel profoundly intimate. If you take a step back and think about it, this film is planting a small but significant seed in the discourse around masculinity. It’s saying, ‘It’s okay to feel, to grieve, to love.’
The Power of Dark Humor
Another detail that I find especially interesting is the film’s use of humor. Harvey mentioned they wanted to avoid the arthouse, overly serious tone that often accompanies indie films about heavy topics. Instead, they’ve infused The State of Us with dark humor that feels both natural and necessary.
What this really suggests is that laughter isn’t just a coping mechanism—it’s a form of resistance. In the face of something as final as death, humor becomes a way to reclaim agency, to say, ‘We’re still here, and we’re still us.’ It’s a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there’s room for joy.
A Personal Connection That Resonates
What makes The State of Us even more poignant is its roots in real life. The characters are loosely based on Harvey’s childhood friendship group, particularly a friend who passed away from cancer at 18. This personal connection adds a layer of authenticity that’s hard to ignore.
In my opinion, this is where the film transcends its indie status. It’s not just a story—it’s a tribute, a love letter to the friendships that shape us. It raises a deeper question: How do we honor the people we’ve lost while still finding a way to move forward?
Looking Ahead: The Future of Indie Filmmaking
As The State of Us premieres at the Edinburgh International Film Festival, it’s worth considering its place in the broader landscape of indie cinema. Festival director Paul Ridd has called this year’s competition slate the strongest since the event’s reboot, and I can see why. Films like this remind us why indie cinema matters—it’s where stories that don’t fit the mainstream mold find their voice.
From my perspective, The State of Us is more than just a film; it’s a conversation starter. It challenges us to think about how we approach grief, friendship, and masculinity. And in a world that often feels disconnected, that’s no small feat.
Final Thoughts
As I reflect on The State of Us, I’m struck by its ability to balance heartbreak with hope, chaos with clarity. It’s a film that doesn’t shy away from the hard questions, but it also doesn’t leave you feeling empty. Instead, it leaves you with a sense of gratitude—for the friendships we have, the moments we share, and the love that endures even when everything else falls apart.
Personally, I think this is the kind of film that stays with you long after the credits roll. It’s not just a story about saying goodbye; it’s a reminder of how we live while we still have the chance. And in that, there’s something profoundly beautiful.
