In just 75 minutes, Lilian T. Mehrel’s debut feature Honeyjoon manages to make audiences laugh, cry, wince, and reflect. Her efficient and affecting screenplay examines a relationship between mother and daughter battling with grief, each reacting to loss differently while struggling to connect. The film may be relatively short, but it’s packed with poignant lessons about learning to find joy as waves of sadness ebb and flow around you.
The film follows Lela (Amira Casar) and her adult daughter, June (Ayden Mayeri), on a trip to the Azores on the one-year anniversary of the passing of her husband (June’s dad). They’ve chosen the stunning São Miguel Island to follow in the footsteps of a trip he once took after losing his own father. They’re carrying a lock of his hair, hoping to let it go in a meaningful place. As they get settled into their resort, they realize they’re surrounded by newlyweds, creating a stark juxtaposition between their gloom and the bliss of their fellow vacationers. Their differences start to become apparent—Lela wears her emotions on her sleeve while June keeps them locked up inside. Lela is the classic, overbearing mother, while June is constantly in search of independence.
The two embark on a private tour of the island, led by a handsome, surprisingly introspective guide (José Condessa). The tour is misfire after misfire—a beautiful view obscured by fog, a swimming hole with waves too violent to enjoy. But June is smitten, more focused on the guide than the tour or her mother, driving the two further apart. But as the day winds down, June pulls out a photo of her father from his trip to the island, walking along a beach. Their guide recognizes it and sends them there the next day, leading to a long-overdue reckoning between mother and daughter as the tension between them finally hits a boiling point.
“Lela and her adult daughter June on a trip to the Azores on the one-year anniversary of the passing of her husband.”
Mehrel and cinematographer Inés Gowland make the most of their time on São Miguel Island, highlighting the sweeping landscapes and dazzling coastline in consistently beautiful images throughout the film. They weave in nostalgic Super 8 footage, summoning the path June’s father tread on the island decades before. On the opposite side of the spectrum, Mehrel gives us glimpses of the trip through the lens of a phone camera, capturing moments meant for social media feeds. But while it looks fantastic, it’s Mehrel’s sharp writing that makes the film stand out. She manages to create a seamless tonal balance between pointed humor and heartwarming personal transformations. The story is familiar, relatable, and feels deeply personal to Merhel. Two fantastic performances and an undeniable chemistry between Casar and Mayeri certainly help, too. They’re both individually brilliant, but together they’re absolutely captivating. They make it easy to get pulled into every emotion, from minor annoyances to suffocating anguish.
As the film builds to its sentimental resolution, it becomes clear that the differences between mother and daughter aren’t issues to be solved, but quirks to be embraced. It’s in those differences that they learn how to begin to finally open up to each other. Loss is unbearably painful, but it’s an unavoidable part of life. The real beauty in Honeyjoon comes from watching two women learn to move forward together, because they have no other choice.
"…Honeyjoon manages to make audiences laugh, cry, wince and reflect."
