The Fragile Art of Saying Goodbye: Why 'The State of Us' Hits Different
There’s something profoundly human about the way we grapple with loss, especially when it’s someone we love. The State of Us, an upcoming British indie film premiering at the Edinburgh International Film Festival, doesn’t just tackle this theme—it wrestles with it, laughs with it, and ultimately, dances through it. Personally, I think what makes this film stand out isn’t just its premise but the raw, unfiltered way it approaches friendship, mortality, and the messy beauty of being young and alive.
A Night of Rebellion and Reflection
At its core, the film follows Frankie (Samuel Bottomley) and Taylor (Callum Scott Howells), two childhood friends navigating the inevitable—Taylor’s terminal cancer. Frankie, in a desperate act of defiance, breaks Taylor out of hospice for one last night of freedom. What starts as a boisterous, alcohol-fueled escapade quickly morphs into something deeper. One thing that immediately stands out is how the film refuses to romanticize grief. It’s chaotic, it’s funny, and it’s heartbreaking—all at once.
What many people don’t realize is how rare it is to see male friendships portrayed with such vulnerability. Frankie’s impulsiveness and Taylor’s quiet resignation aren’t just character traits; they’re reflections of how we all, in our own ways, try to outrun the inevitable. From my perspective, this isn’t just a story about death—it’s about the lengths we go to feel alive, even when time is running out.
Masculinity, Redefined
Co-directors Ollie Gardner and Jake Harvey have crafted a film that feels both personal and universal. The characters are loosely based on Harvey’s own childhood friendship group, particularly a friend who passed away from cancer at 18. This raises a deeper question: How do we honor the people we’ve lost without turning their stories into tragedies? Gardner’s hope that young men will see themselves in the film is more than just a marketing pitch—it’s a call to rethink masculinity.
In my opinion, the film’s greatest strength lies in its refusal to take itself too seriously. It’s got jokes, dark humor, and a dance floor scene that feels like a fleeting moment of joy. But beneath the surface, it’s planting a seed in the discourse of masculinity, challenging the idea that men can’t be both tough and tender. What this really suggests is that vulnerability isn’t a weakness—it’s a form of courage.
The Power of Accessible Cinema
Harvey’s comment about making the film “accessible” is particularly fascinating. There’s a version of this story that could have leaned heavily into arthouse territory, but the filmmakers chose a different path. They wanted to reach the audience that needs to hear this story, not just the cinephiles. If you take a step back and think about it, this is a bold move in an industry that often prioritizes awards bait over emotional resonance.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how the film balances its tone. It’s not afraid to be funny, even in its darkest moments. This isn’t just a creative choice—it’s a reflection of how we cope with pain. Laughter, after all, is often the best medicine, even when it can’t cure the disease.
Why This Film Matters Now
In a world where conversations about mental health and masculinity are finally gaining traction, The State of Us feels timely. It’s not just a film about saying goodbye; it’s a film about how we say it. From my perspective, it’s a reminder that life is messy, friendships are complicated, and sometimes, the best way to honor someone is to live a little louder.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how the film connects to broader cultural trends. We’re seeing more stories that challenge traditional notions of masculinity, from It’s a Sin (which launched Howells’ career) to Normal People. The State of Us fits into this lineage but carves out its own space by focusing on the absurdity and beauty of youth.
Final Thoughts
As someone who’s always been drawn to stories that explore the human condition, The State of Us feels like a breath of fresh air. It’s not perfect, and it doesn’t try to be. Instead, it embraces the chaos, the humor, and the heartbreak of being alive. Personally, I think this is the kind of film that will stay with you long after the credits roll—not because it’s flawless, but because it’s honest.
If you’re heading to Edinburgh this August, do yourself a favor and catch this one. It’s more than just a film; it’s a conversation starter, a tearjerker, and a celebration of friendship all rolled into one. And if you’re not, keep an eye out for it—because this is a story that deserves to be seen, felt, and discussed.
After all, as the film reminds us, saying goodbye is never easy. But sometimes, it’s the only way to truly say hello to what—and who—matters most.
