Waves is not an easy watch. It is two hours and fifteen minutes of emotional claustrophobia. It might make you angry. It might make you sob. It might, like it did for me, leave you staring at the wall for twenty minutes after the credits roll.
In the end, Waves is not a cautionary tale about toxic masculinity or a simple story of a family falling apart. It is a prayer for the survivors. As Emily floats serenely in a lake, looking up at the sky, the camera finally holds still. The storm has passed. The water is calm. Shults leaves us with the quiet, revolutionary idea that while we cannot choose the waves that hit us, we can choose to learn how to swim. In a cinematic era obsessed with cynicism and deconstruction, Waves dares to be a melodrama of the highest order—a film that hurts, heals, and leaves you breathless on the shore. waves 2019
Ronald’s arc is the key. He is not a villain; he is a father who loved his son so hard he squeezed the life out of him. When he finally visits Tyler in a juvenile detention center, there are no easy reconciliations. There is just a low, sobbing whisper: “I’m sorry.” It’s not enough. It can never be enough. But Shults suggests that holding onto the “not enough” might be the thing that drowns you. Waves is not an easy watch
The film is famously divided into two tonally distinct halves, mimicking the motion of a wave: a frantic, high-intensity buildup followed by a quiet, meditative crash and eventual calm. Waves (2019) - Plot - IMDb It might make you sob