VIFF 2025: ‘Blue Heron’ Review

It’s unsurprising that Sophy Romvari’s feature directorial debut is as intricately layered and subtly destructive as it is innovative and formally captivating. A career filled with endearing and autobiographical short films that blur the line between documentary and fiction, it only makes sense that Blue Heron would pull upon those same stylistic and narrative threads. What is more surprising is how effectively Romvari’s formal gambits pay off, and the emotions they uncover in a deeply personal examination of memory, agency, and perspective. Blue Heron is a remarkably assured feature debut that cleverly plays with form to staggering effect.

Blue Heron sets the stage for its exploration of memories by acknowledging that what is shown is little more than a hazy recollection of a past primarily recorded in its better moments. Capturing the life of a family that has recently moved from Hungary to Vancouver Island in the 1990s, Romvari’s screenplay immediately transports audiences to another time and place. CRT TVs take control of the younger children who haven’t already rushed outside to play with the neighbouring kids. Then there are teenagers like Jeremy (Edik Beddoes), who slip into a perceived sense of comfort as they put on headphones and isolate themselves from the outside noise. Physically present but mentally somewhere far out of reach, that distance could be nothing, or it could be a symptom of something larger festering within that a teenager doesn’t have the tools to navigate.

Mainly told from the perspective of eight-year-old Sasha (Eylul Guven), Blue Heron begins as a familiar journey down memory lane before turning its gaze to Jeremy and crafting a shattering depiction of a family on the ropes as they struggle with a disruptive, despondent son. The parents, portrayed by Iringó Réti and Adam Tompa, are dealing with something difficult to comprehend from a child’s perspective—the risk of losing their son to something unknown as he spirals through increasingly hostile behaviour. His actions seem erratic, and his temper impossible to control, and it’s becoming difficult for his mother and father to make sense of it, let alone help guide him through the darkness.

However, Romvari’s decision to focus the film through the lens of Sasha provides audiences with a fuzzy memory of those difficult times, which they are forewarned about from the beginning. Petty thefts and defiance of his parents are filtered through a sibling’s inability to comprehend Jeremy’s motivations and why they are so worrying to the adults around her. Pockets of joyous moments shared between siblings complicate Sasha’s perception of that moment in time, but an unerring turmoil bubbles beneath, seeming to have her family on edge in ways that only time and a willingness to confront the past could make clear.

Growing up in a household where I was the oldest of four children and definitely acted out occasionally in stubborn defiance of whatever bothered me at a given time, Blue Heron struck a chord with me that I didn’t know was still there. Romvari, who is only a couple of years older than me, depicts a household that evokes similarly rose-tinted memories punctuated by difficult moments. The parental figure that handles everything while the other works and hears of the unpleasantness second-hand—these are familiar people in my life, but also common staples of a single-income household, especially at that time.

There are elements of Romvari’s autobiographical film that are distinctly hers, of course. However, the film’s portrait of a family wrestling with something they are ill-equipped to handle on their own is perhaps more common than most of us realize, especially given the isolation that families—and particularly immigrant families—face when they worry about judgment and scrutiny from others while dealing with difficulties in the home. We’re all just trying to live an idyllic family life and raise children the best we know how. That becomes complicated when it feels like you’re on an island and every attempt to get answers yields more concern that nothing will get better.

Where Blue Heron takes a turn is in a mid-film shift that will undoubtedly disorient audiences. Romvari’s screenplay plays with documentary filmmaking techniques to transition into something one-of-a-kind. An adult Sasha (Amy Zimmer) reexamines her memories of her brother, Jeremy, and confronts how the situation was handled through conversations with social care workers (portrayed by real-life professionals). It’s a risky move that threatens to alienate an audience who have settled into the lyrical rhythm of a film ready to spill over into more dramatic moments just as the shift occurs.

However, it provides the necessary gateway into the film’s triumphant final act, which doubles as wish fulfillment and an attempt at closure. It brings the film full circle to those parental worries and trying to make sense of the confusion that Sasha experienced as a child during those difficult times. It’s another decision on the script level that could easily have felt cheesy or too blunt in its execution, but Romvari’s assured direction ensures that nothing feels less than honest. The raw feelings that are put on display in Zimmer’s performance, as well as those of Réti and Tompa, provide a window into a painful reality that is difficult to bear.

There’s a confidence needed to pull off the filmmaking on display in Blue Heron, and only years of finetuning your craft can produce it. A willingness to delve into one’s own personal history and interrogate that past without obfuscating it is why Romvari has been on the rise, particularly after her short film Still Processing. Blue Heron is a transcendent piece of autofiction that naturally expands upon its director’s strengths. Its ability to resonate so strongly while remaining personal defines Romvari’s filmmaking, but the way it playfully transforms into something directly confrontational exemplifies the power of cinema. Rarely does a film manage to feel like a revelation, but Blue Heron is most certainly that, and hopefully signals the beginning of a storied career for one of Canada’s most unique voices.

The 44th Vancouver International Film Festival took place from October 2nd to 12th. Blue Heron celebrated its premiere on October 4th, as part of VIFF’s Northern Lights program. The full list of films selected for the festival can be found here.