Kelly O’Sullivan’s Ghostlight is an honest and, at times, uncomfortable depiction of grief and the importance of community. As the Mueller family grieves the death of their son while simultaneously going into trial with the family they’re blaming, each person navigates through the turmoil by various forms of lashing out. But when Dan (Keith Kupferer) stumbles into a theatre group performing Romeo and Juliet, the family begins to grow closer.
In all my years of studying Shakespeare as an English major, no play is more decisive than Romeo and Juliet. People have a difficult time sympathizing with two kids taking their own lives when love isn’t an emotion they’re old enough to understand. Yet, it’s deeper than that, decades of turmoil with opposing households governing their children through anger as opposed to empathy. Such is the case with the narrative in Ghostlight when the Mueller family initially fails to understand how their son could take his own life because his girlfriend is moving away. But it’s always bigger than that, and it’s a tremendously complex heartache to dissect because no one knows what goes on in someone else’s head. Further, the difference between Shakespeare’s production and the story we’re following is that the girlfriend, Christine, wakes up. She makes it through the painkillers they both took.
As Dan draws deeper into Romeo’s headspace, he begins to understand his son’s motives, allowing him to finally grieve without letting anger poison so much of his viewpoint. Furthermore, as we navigate through the production and trial, the film examines forms of communication through a poignantly heartbreaking lens. It then takes on the form of a generational story that forces one man to realize that his ways can be altered and a different perspective can heal all parties involved.
Often, people believe that they cannot change their ways—sure, Gen X, Millennials, and Gen Z are all for therapy and open conversations. Still, many boomers completely refuse to look beyond the belief that vulnerability is far more courageous than letting anger speak.
Despite our different generations, grief and love are the two emotions we all understand profoundly. And it’s because we feel it so deeply that it forces us to react with big feelings. Ghostlight takes this into account and examines the importance of taking pain and putting it into a cathartic outlet. It explores the significance of a community by sincerely showcasing how important it is that humans release bottled-up emotions before they explode. It’s a reminder that no one is too old or too stuck in their ways to evolve, so long as they allow themselves the space to keep trying.
Additionally, the meaning of the ghost light is a comforting idea in the theatre world that reminds people how absolute darkness simply does not exist. There’s a centered light to draw people back in when everything grows quieter and empty. Here, the ghost light is metaphorical, too, because, for the Mueller family, it’s about their shared love for one another and the grief that haunts them. It carves a tender space to open up and understand that differences not only unite people but they make art more nuanced and brilliant.
Romeo and Juliet wouldn’t be the production it is if it didn’t cause such hefty, passionate discourse. It’s known to every person, whether they study Shakespeare or not, because of the complex emotions that rise to the surface whenever someone brings it up. You can try to bring up Taming of the Shrew to a room full of accountants, and only a handful would know what you’re talking about. But whether someone has read or seen a production of Romeo and Juliet, they know the whole story. Thus, Ghostlight’s use of it to navigate through a family’s grief brought on by similar matters ultimately humanizes kids and adults in a thoughtful and kind manner. It’s full of honest performances, messy characters, and a compelling message that orbits around the depth of love and loss simultaneously.
Ghostlight is now available for digital rent and purchase.
First Featured Image | Official Poster Credit: ©IFC Films