When it comes to the concept of love, has there ever been something so universally acknowledged, but yet singularly impossible to define in clear terms? Everyone from existential philosophers to those in the arts has dedicated a large portion of their time to unpacking the phenomenon that is love, particularly the act of falling for another person. Conversations on desire, interpersonal connection and the feeling of committing yourself to another person are all common concepts that populate these stories – and yet, despite an endless stream of works that address love as a whole, it still feels so difficult to understand precisely what it means. This has obviously found its way into cinema, which we can argue was primarily built on the foundations of both comedy and romance, often using them in tandem. Max Walker-Silverman is one of the more recent filmmakers to emerge with a unique and precise depiction of love, which takes the form of A Love Song, a deeply sentimental and incredibly layered work of socially-conscious comedy, the kind we don’t often come across due to its intimacy and very simple approach to telling the story of two old friends (who clearly harboured deep feelings for one another, going back to their younger years) meeting in the rural wilderness of Colorado for a weekend in which they become reacquainted with each other and work through their personal and psychological quandaries while also enjoying the presence of the person they considered to be their one true love. It’s a beautifully poetic drama with bold assertions on the psychological impact of romance, allowing for A Love Song to be one of the year’s most deeply sympathetic and heartbreakingly striking manifestos on the power of connection, and the importance of holding onto the past, since we never know when we will get another chance to realize our heart’s deepest desires.

Love is a concept you feel rather than describe, and Walker-Silverman makes sure that this is reflected in absolutely every frame of A Love Song, a film that is driven by a sense of atmosphere more than it is a particular narrative. This is his directorial debut, and it is undeniable that Walker-Silverman possesses a very distinct voice that is likely going to have a great impact on the independent film industry if he continues to make films of this calibre. It’s a film that hinges on a psychological examination of two characters as they share the same space for a short amount of time, coming to terms with the past and momentarily living through their desires over the course of only a few days, after which they once again go their separate ways, proving that it is sometimes better to allow our heart’s ambitions to remain hypothetical, since there is value in holding onto a dream and living in that fantasy, since there’s often very little room for disappointment. It’s a small film, and one that centres itself on the more intimate side of a relationship that has never been consolidated, but has existed in the ether for decades, coming to brief fruition when the paths of these characters once again cross, and they are able to take the bold steps towards realizing their passion that they had been fantasizing about for as long as they have been apart. It’s a simple premise, and its one that is established through the mood, with A Love Song being very much aligned with a more subtle form of filmmaking, one that is propelled by a sense of realism more than it is anything else, which lends it credence and a deep sense of unimpeachable humanity that allows the director the time and space to actively explore the depths of this relationship and the two parties of which it is composed.

Something that I have regularly pointed out about independent cinema is how they often allow more underrated or obscure actors to have the spotlight for a brief moment, and occasionally assist them in getting a second wind to a career in which they were previously shoved into thankless roles that were not worthy of their talents. Dale Dickey is one of our finest actors, someone whose gifts are usually expended in memorable supporting roles, but is rarely the source of much attention outside of a couple of good scenes. A Love Song represents her very first leading role – and she is a true revelation. Every moment of this film sees Dickey in careful consideration of the past and deep prayer for the future that she desires, which entails an encounter with an old lover, which would bring her an endless amount of joy and closure, both of which are important for this character. Dickey can command the screen without even saying a word – her expressive face, and ability to emote creates a wonderfully unique portrayal of a woman who may be on the other side of middle-age, but who decides to throw caution to the wind and pursue her dream, not sure of whether it will be successful, but doing whatever she can to make it happen. Wes Studi (another actor whose brilliance is often obscured by his perpetual casting in relatively unmemorable roles) arrives midway through the film, and may only stay for a few scenes, but makes an indelible impact. If there one valuable quality that trumps every other merit in A Love Song, it would be the choice to cast these two actors in these roles – they have incredible chemistry, and convincingly play these former lovers brought together for a short time. It’s a career peak for both of them, and they certainly do not let the opportunity to take on a bigger role go to waste, since every moment they are on screen feels tender and complex.

In a cinematic landscape driven by high-concept storylines and attempts to create the next major artistic achievement, A Love Song dares to be simple, which is amongst its greatest merits. Running at a mere 80 minutes, and made with minimal narrative or visual furnishings, this is a film that takes pride in its earnest, straightforward demeanour, as well as its refusal to resort to excess just for the sake of a compelling narrative. This is a film about starting new, deciding to jump into the unknown without any idea of what the consequences will be, but rather choosing to face them as opposed to the remorse of never having taken such an extraordinary leap of faith. Looking at such a story from the perspective of older characters also allows for a higher level of representation of older protagonists (as well as having one of the two leads be an actor of Indigenous descent, which is especially important in terms of diversity and giving major roles to those from a wider range of groups), and it proves that love does not have an age limit, and that those who are advanced in age are capable of experiencing the most poignant and meaningful romances. Through all these intriguing ideas, the director is able to construct a very human drama about the intersections of age and desire, centring on a deeply moving tale of two people falling for each other all over again, far from the prying eyes of those who would be more cynical to the idea of finding love later in life – and in this regard, the arid beauty of the surroundings only help support the story, since nature takes on a secondary role, with the lack of other characters allowing the film to focus exclusively on these two characters, and anyone else that wanders into the periphery on occasion are merely supplementary. Two people sitting in nature and ruminating on the past, a simple but evocative concept that is bursting with heart and soul.

A Love Song is a film as simple and evocative as its title, and it frequently manages to venture to unprecedented places in these characters’ minds as it questions the nature of love, and whether one can maintain a spark after a considerable amount of time has elapsed. It’s an extraordinarily emotional film, but it is never overwrought – the director pays attention to his characters, constructing them as genuinely complex, layered individuals rather than just mere archetypes that exist for the sake of just telling a story. The compassion with which Walker-Silverman approaches these characters is incredible, and becomes definitive of the entire film, which is built on a series of interactions, each one adding a new layer into the dynamic that exists between them. A Love Song is a film told through small, intricately human details, rather than trying to compress every defining quality of the romantic experience into the story. It amounts to a touching, complex human drama that is filled with passion and nuance, told through the eyes of the most unlikely sources of romantic desire, but who serve to be some of the most compelling characters we’ve encountered in quite a while. Detailed and earnest, and frequently aiming to do something valuable with a relatively simple story, A Love Song is a true marvel, and the kind of film that sits with the viewer long after the credits have ended, and we walk away, enriched by this film and its beautifully bittersweet perspective on the world that it inhabits.