Catherine Linstrum’s Nuclear is the story of the haunting of a big, empty house besieged by ghastly reminders of the past, but it is not a ghost story. The film follows Emma (Emilia Jones), a young girl escaping to the countryside with her wounded mother (Sienna Guillory) following a violent attack by her older brother (Oliver Coopersmith). The two family members go unnamed by the movie, immediately suggesting there is something unseen setting them apart from Emma. The two set up camp in an empty house nestled against the backdrop of an abandoned nuclear plant and an expansive toxic lake. This intense isolation sets the stage for a story about both reckoning with and holding onto your memory of someone against all reason, and the sacrifices inherent to the family unit. This context also creates a tension that hugely intensifies Emma’s new friendship with a similarly unnamed boy (George Mackay) that becomes the most sincerely felt thing in the film by virtue of being able to blossom in a place so otherwise defined by destruction. Through these ideas, there is an almost horror-movie tension to many of its set-pieces that contributes massively to its atmosphere.
Nuclear uses this setup for a fascinating, if regularly messy, story about isolation and letting go as we watch Emma reflect on the parts of her that made it out unscathed, and the way trauma has irreversibly changed her. This is intentionally contrasted against the image of the nuclear lake in a way that invokes an inescapable sense of corrosion and death. The film complements these ideas with oppressive compositions; dwarfing towers and tunnels that seem to go on forever but always lead where you least want to be, as well as a palette of dull greys that make the world of the film feel like some kind of trap. Similarly, its performances, though impressive, all feel like something is being held back from one another, as if there is still some great secret to come out. Where Emma is introduced as looking for a next step, George Mackay’s character is waiting for a friend, and these conflicting motivations come together to create an atmosphere of both distrust and constantly unresolved tensions. However, this general sense of longing contributes greatly to a genuine investment in their friendship because it is one of the sincerely reliable feelings in a place otherwise so unpredictable.
Where Nuclear unfortunately begins to fall apart is in the fact that it can’t survive on atmosphere alone, and when it begins to search for conclusions, those that it finds are largely disappointing. Without giving away any of the film’s surprises, it trades closure for bizarre shock in a way that not only fails to bring the film to any natural crescendo, but may also leave one questioning the worth of everything up to that point. This is not to say there is nothing to stick around for, as there is a real catharsis in Emma and the boy’s relationship that is played really powerfully even against the backdrop of some much less effective ideas.
This balance between actual sincerity, and an obsession with being something that aligns with a very narrow idea of artistic value is perhaps the defining tension of Nuclear. Linstrum establishes an effective story with likable performances and grounded stakes, but somehow doesn’t seem satisfied with simply playing that out. Instead, the film is bogged down by artistic flourishes that often don’t amount to more than distractions; unmotivated gestures at the supernatural and a sharp left turn into the surreal for its final act. The film is opened and closed with a direct appeal from an unidentified woman detailing the immediate destruction and subsequent chaos of a nuclear explosion that, while initially fascinating, begins to feel like a first draft idea hanging on for dear life. Not to suggest that Nuclear is void of style, in fact it is regularly very striking but at points, its motivations for that feel confused. The effect of this is that while it is entirely possible to appreciate the film on the grounds of the story it tells, with some really stunning images and sweet performances, it often comes off as if that’s not quite enough for the director, and its artistic preoccupations become barriers against complete connection.
