Dan (Keith Kupferer) is at his wit’s end.  His daughter, Daisy (Katherine Mallen Kupferer) is on the verge of expulsion from school, and his marriage to Sharron (Tara Mallen) is under incredible financial strain as they navigate the legal tangle in the wake of their son’s death.  When he is placed on disciplinary leave at his job, Dan does what he can to hide the fact from his family by spending his afternoons at a community theatre rehearsing for a production of Romeo and Juliet.  As he gets deeper into the part, Dan begins to draw parallels between the characters of the play and his own life as art and reality intercept in powerful ways. 

Written by Kelly O’Sullivan who also directed the film in conjunction with Alex Thompson, Ghostlight premiered at the Sundance Film Festival and gained critical acclaim across the early festival circuit ahead of its theatrical release from IFC Films.  At 115 minutes, the film blends elements of playful comedy and cutting drama in a layered narrative that slowly unfurls in step with Dan’s downward spiral.  In less adept hands, the film would teeter into the realm of melodrama, but between a nuanced performance from Kupferer and a unique dissection of one of the most enduring and endearing plays in the English language canon, Ghostlight elevates itself into something fresh and exciting. 

The film opens with Dan in the dim early hours, making his way to the job site while “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’” from Oklahoma! ironically plays over the suburban sunrise.  It is a fun little joke that sets the light and playful mood of the film, broad enough that one does not need to be familiar with the iconic Rodgers and Hammerstein musical to understand, but for those who do know the libretto will know that it is not all just “bright golden haze on the meadow” but something tragic is about to unfold.  O’Sullivan and Thompson certainly do have a tragedy in mind, something they dance around for much of the first act that stirs up intrigue in us but it is very heavy-handed and we feel like we are missing a major piece of information more than that the film is building towards a reveal.  There is talk of seeing a lawyer about a lawsuit.  A daughter who acts out and has few options left except for military school.  A boy – a boyfriend? No, a son and a brother? – who is never seen.  Eventually, this bit of backstory comes deeper into focus; there was a son who died by suicide some weeks prior to when we first met Dan. 

We learn this most bluntly when Dan and the company are rehearsing the final act of Romeo and Juliet and, in his role as Father Capulet, he asks of his director, Lanora (Hanna Dworkin), why can they not change the ending of the play where the star crossed lovers wake up from their poison; an idea which is quickly ridiculed by his senior cast.  It marks a major turning point in the film both within the narrative as it is the first time Dan addresses the tragedy directly instead of letting it stew inside of him, and for us as an audience because, like his cast, we feel we understand just a little bit more about the weight on Dan’s shoulders. 

Looking at his wider cast, it is centered around Rita (Dolly De Leon), an actress from New York who has always longed to play Juliet but was never given the opportunity.  Maybe not so much the histories, but Shakespeare’s tragedies and comedies can often be transported to different times or locations to reflect the anxieties of the time with notable examples being Franco Zeffirelli’s controversial 1968 film that used a cast of text-accurate young teenagers in the title roles to Baz Luhrmann’s also controversial spin in 1996 where the feuding families are turned to rival gangs battling over Verona Beach while decked out in all of the worst fashions of the late 1990s.  The latter has, at least according to Daisy, been reclaimed as a classic by the generation not yet born when Luhrmann swapped sabers for pistols.  In Ghostlight, it is not a direct textual adaptation, but the entire cast are grown adults which brings additional introspection to the action of the play. There is one younger member of the cast, Tyler (Charlie Lubeck), who reacts negatively towards having Juliet be so much his senior and the film seems to punch down a bit of his insistence that there be an intimacy coordinator, but by and large, Ghostlight is a celebration of the acting and creative process. This is especially true for Dan who is moved into the role of Romeo after Tyler quits so now the grieving father must try to unlock the fated poet’s motivations and in doing so find an understanding of what led his own son to take his life.   

The film has two main threads to follow, at the playhouse where the characters can relax and be free from the humdrum of life, and in “real life” where Dan must contend with his strained family dynamic, tight finances, and a stressful deposition where he is seeking to sue Charlie (Marlene Slaughter), his son’s girlfriend who woke up from the overdose of pills which they took together.  The two stories are intrinsically linked, but to list them out like this makes it sound like the film would be a tonal disaster.  That is a hash claim to levy against it, but for audiences who are not able to get on the same page as O’Sullivan and Thompson, it can be seen as valid as there are some real moments of whiplash from scene to scene and even moment to moment.  The drama is thick and the humor is broad, especially as Dan struggles to allow himself to tap into the emotions he is harboring during rehearsals, an internal exercise we understand that Dan is doing for the first time in his adult life.  We see the exercises through Dan’s skeptical position; that is, until, he realizes that theatre can be used as a bridge to connect with Daisy, an accomplished thespian in her high school productions.   

Daisy is a rough character – loud, brash, and crude – who we meet at a time of crisis, and like how Dan first views the theatre, we are introduced to her through his exasperated and exhausted eyes. The first act does the younger Kupferer little favors, but it is when Dan begins to ask her about the play – carefully, still, not to admit that he has been cast – and her face lights up, the performance takes on a whole new shade.  It is the key to unlocking the film – family – and for Dan, it is the beginning of his realization that family is the only way he will make it through their tragedy. This is also the turning point for Daisy where Kupferer is able to breathe some depth and nuance into the character because she is not just pent-up anger and angst. We also begin to know where her troubles stem from so we can begin to build empathy with her instead of just getting pushed away like in her initial scenes.  This same cresting moment comes tragically late for Sharon in the lawyer’s office after Dan forgave Charlie and her family without telling his wife beforehand; but to be fair, it seems to have come from a stream-of-consciousness answer during the deposition.  It is a great moment for Mallen who spends much of the film on the sidelines, but, as she exclaims to Dan, she had to be present in all the ways that he was not but the film never let us into her grief or process. 

Ghostlight is a very interesting work, one that still presents a bit of a barrier to entry to be able to enjoy it in its fullest form, but not so alienating in form or in content that those without a theatrical background cannot find a thread to follow.  Supported by incredible performances by the Kupferer family – yes, a family offscreen as well – it presents a scarily accurate portrait of grief and all the many faces and masks that it wears as a unit overcomes a shared tragedy.  It is not an easy film to watch given the subject matter, and because it is all experienced through Dan’s point of view, we spend two hours in the mind of a father who is grieving the loss of his son and the fracturing of his family so it is far from being light and breezy material, but it strikes a great balance when it allows us to breathe.  Like life, the pain comes and goes in waves.  At the risk of stretching too long, Sharon suffers, as does Dan’s colleague and friend, Mikey (Matthew C. Yee) in underdeveloped parts that had they been allowed just a few additional scenes would have added some great texture to the world, but importantly they each play a part and do not feel like they exist solely for Dan’s growth or convenience.  The result is a challenging film, one that asks us to examine our own lives, to appreciate the fleeting moments, and it tells us that with time, with love, with the freedom to feel, that we will be all right.  Even the strongest of us need the support of those we hold dear.