Ghostlight | 2024
Keith Kupferer in Kelly O’Sullivan and Alex Thompson’s GHOSTLIGHT. Courtesy of Luke Dyra. An IFC Films release.
Watching Alex Thompson and Kelly O’Sullivan's new movie, Ghostlight, I couldn't escape the feeling that I was watching a boutique label indie from 2005.
That isn't a bad thing, necessarily. There's something warm and even nostalgic about its particular aesthetic. But the quirky characters, thrown into a dramatic scenario that feels just ever so slightly farfetched, coupled with an equally implausible emotional hook, feels so unique to the mid-budget indie dramedies of the early aughts (think Little Miss Sunshine), that spotting such a film in 2024 feels like stumbling upon a unicorn.
In theatre, the term "ghostlight" refers to a light left on in an empty theatre to provide illumination when the building isn't occupied. That ghostlight was, in essence, a safety mechanism meant to prevent people from walking off the edge of the stage and into the orchestra pit below. In Ghostlight, we are introduced to an emotionally distant construction worker named Dan (Keith Kupferer), a man of few words but big feelings - feelings that he usually keeps bottled up inside only to burst forth as explosive anger when pushed to the limit. After a particularly violent outburst at work, Dan finds himself invited to take his mind off his troubles by standing in as Lord Capulet in a low-rent community theatre production of Romeo & Juliet by a no-nonsense bystander named Rita (Dolly de Leon).
At first, Dan is skeptical, but he goes along with it for lack of anything better to do, soon discovering that the theatre has given him an outlet to express emotions in a way he could never do on his own. As the circumstances behind a family tragedy come into focus, Dan's unique connection with the play become more clear, allowing him at long last come to terms with his haunted past and reconnect with his increasingly estranged family (played by Kupferer’s real life wife and daughter, Katherine Mallen Kupferer and Tara Mallen).
Ghostlight is ostensibly a film about the healing power of art - but it's also something of a tribute to bad but earnest community theatre. Anyone who has spent any time around a local theatre will instantly recognize the idiosyncratic denizens that haunt the wings of community theater spaces, often making up for a lack of talent with an unerring fervor for tripping the boards. The film’s central conflict doesn't always ring true, often reaching for emotional beats through circumstances that feel more contrived than organic; but like the endearing troupe of amateur thespians at its heart, there's a sense of sincerity that's almost impossible not to love.
Perhaps that's the theatre major in me speaking - Ghostlight seems almost precision tuned to hit theatre kids of all ages right in the feels (so your mileage may vary), but Thompson and O’Sullivan manage to ground its occasionally overwrought tale of learning to express and process your emotions through the simple magic of acting in something that feels real, even when its scenario doesn't. The real life connection between the three leads also adds a real sense of pathos that gives the film an added layer of life. And like any good director, they manage to cut through the flowery but archaic language of Shakespeare to find a palpable emotional core. No small feat, that, especially in a text as well worn as Romeo & Juliet, but by connecting its central tragedy to that of a grieving father trying to understand his own son's suicide, it brings a fresh perspective to an oft-told tale. While it may occasionally feel like it favors cheap sentiment as a shortcut to tangible character development, leaving room to go deeper than it ultimately goes, it nevertheless delivers an emotional gut punch that is hard to shake.
