Shults ( Krisha , It Comes At Night ) front-loads his story with so much feverish plotting and kinetic camerawork that that reach sometimes threatens to subsume it; it’s hard not be reminded of recent (and more fully realized) indie touchstones like Andrea Arnold’s American Honey , another film that soaked itself in the visual and musical language of contemporary youth culture, or Barry Jenkins’ Moonlight , whose Florida setting held a sort of dreamlike sway over nearly every scene.
There are shades of Moonlight (2016) and American Honey (2016) throughout: Shults grasps for a feeling of reckless abandon and “head dangling out the window of a speeding car” joyfulness, but struggles to replicate any of their mutual depth.
Set in South Florida — not so far from the microcosm Barry Jenkins illuminated in “Moonlight,” though a world apart in terms of social class and opportunity — “Waves” bends and surprises, radiates and engulfs, in a dizzying and ecstatic attempt to capture the love and pain and pressure visited upon a contemporary American family — an African American family, to be precise.
From the surface, Waves is another familial tale of tragedy and heartache, with the initial hallmarks and visual palette of a Barry Jenkin’s film, but Waves isn’t trying to be a mere imitation of Moonlight .
Like Barry Jenkins’ Moonlight from 2016, Waves is an accomplishment that belies the filmmaker’s relative inexperience; with just a few films to his name to date, this latest arrives as a declaration of vision, both cinematically and narratively.
Here, he’s doing it to capture the woozy feel of Tyler’s teenage hormones, and the result reminds you of Barry Jenkins’ Moonlight and If Beale Street Could Talk in its rapturous depiction of black life, and the ways in which adolescent emotions can lead to disaster.