Supernova review: Stanley Tucci and Colin Firth are radiant

Colin Firth (left) and Stanley Tucci (right) star in SUPERNOVA, written and directed by Harry Macqueen. Credit: Bleecker Street
Colin Firth (left) and Stanley Tucci (right) star in SUPERNOVA, written and directed by Harry Macqueen. Credit: Bleecker Street /
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Normally, when January rolls around, movie releases over the course of the month aren’t exactly stunning. Mid-winter is a notoriously lackluster season for filmmaking. Studios famously “dump” the films they don’t expect to do well from January to March, quickly to be forgotten. But if Supernova is any indicator of the kind of films we can expect in Januarys going forward, it may not be such an unremarkable month for movies anymore.

Short and sweet, Supernova is a heartbreaking and intimate look at love, loss, and the pain of being utterly devoted to another person. Set on a cross-country road trip through the British countryside, Supernova follows Sam (Colin Firth), a talented but out-of-practice concert pianist, and his husband Tusker (Stanley Tucci), a successful novelist, as they take a holiday to visit Sam’s family. Tusker has been diagnosed with dementia, and duo hopes that the time visiting friends and family will do him some good. But as the holiday progresses, they realize things are slowly worsening — and both men grapple with the knowledge that Tusker’s lucid days are numbered.

A film like Supernova — one that’s quiet, character-based, and small in scale —  lives and dies by its lead performances, so it’s no surprise that Stanley Tucci and Colin Firth’s acting helps lift Supernova beyond our highest expectations. One of those outstanding actors who always seems to be the bridesmaid and never the bride, it’s a joy to see a filmmaker entrust Stanley Tucci with a big, meaty role like the one he has here. Tucci’s range is nearly unparalleled, and he makes ample use of it here, while also demonstrating the incredible amount of restraint he possesses as an actor.

Tusker himself is a character plagued by grief and fear — not fear of his own death, or the inevitable fact that he will soon lose his memory, but fear that he’s become a burden to his husband and guilt over the devastating effect his condition is clearly having on Sam. Between the two of them, Tusker is the bigger personality. He’s more prone to goofing around, telling dumb jokes, or opening up to others (like when he offers Sam’s autograph to a waitress in a diner), but his more lighthearted personality is offset by the weight of his illness and the impeding degradation we all know is coming. As an actor, that’s an unenviable line to walk — to be able to play for comedy, but always keep a weariness and a sadness just beneath the surface — but Tucci does so with ease.

Some of Tucci’s most memorable roles often tend to be flamboyant ones: as the snarky sidekick with a heart of gold in The Devil Wears Prada or the colorfully dressed Caesar Flickerman in The Hunger Games movies. Here, we see Tucci paring down his vast expressiveness, never losing the vitality or power in his performance, but instead channeling it to a much smaller, more intimate degree. The direction his character takes in the last 20 minutes of the film is incredibly heart-wrenching, and Tucci gives the kind of performance that, if all was right with the world, would win him an Oscar.

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Acting opposite him is, of course, Colin Firth, who is equally brilliant, but in a quiet, more reserved way. As we mentioned, Sam is the more reserved of the two; he keeps to himself, he’s reluctant to get back into performing live music, and he’s committed himself to being the silent, steady watcher over Tusker’s bedside as he slowly grows weaker and weaker. Firth is in top form here. He says more with his eyes than he often does with proper dialogue, and he matches Tucci blow for blow when things really heat up during the film’s final act. It’s difficult to try and keep pace with the type of performance Tucci gives without being overshadowed or feeling out of place, but Firth manages to both play beautifully off Tucci while also carving out his own performance that flourishes in subtlety.

Subtlety is a common theme throughout Supernova. Though the cinematography is beautiful, it’s not because of the flashiness of the camerawork — it’s because of the beauty of its subjects, which are often sprawling landscapes and sleepy, comforting facades. The film’s score is gentle, quiet piano music, and the dialogue between Sam and Tusker is easy, lived-in, and feels utterly real. There’s a vulnerability and casualness in the way the two interact that makes for such beautifully believable intimacy, and that quiet intimacy makes the argument in the film’s last act all the more powerful.

At its core, Supernova isn’t a story about a man struggling to cope with a fatal illness. It’s about a couple who cares so deeply and completely about each other that neither man can cope with the idea of causing the other pain. Sam strains to do everything he can to make Tusker feel normal, comfortable, and to live his life to the fullest before the dementia ravages his mind. But Tusker is racked with guilt over how much Sam is exerting himself. The thing that causes the most tension between them, ironically, is how much they love each other.

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Intimate, dreamlike, and tinged with an ever-present sadness that invokes exquisite heartbreak in its audience, Supernova is a dazzling depiction of what unfailing love looks like — and Stanley Tucci and Colin Firth both turn in career-defining performances.