❚ We may earn commission from links on this page. Our editorial is always independent (learn more).

The Summer Book review: A film that treats the heaviest of subjects with the gentlest of touches

Glenn Close stars in this film adapted from Tove Jansson’s acclaimed 1972 novel of the same name about a family dealing with grief in Finland.

The Summer Book

Published: Sunday, 9 August 2026 at 9:54 am

Subscribe to Radio Times: 10 issues for £10

A star rating of 3 out of 5.

The opening moments of The Summer Book sets the tone to come. The camera trains on water, at the shore’s edge, as it laps over the freezing ground with an icy crunch. It’s a delicate sequence in a film full of them, inextricably connected by its umbilical cord to Mother Nature. The source is Tove Jansson’s 1972 novella – a slim tale of a grandmother, her son and his daughter as they summer in a remote family cottage in the Gulf of Finland.

Ad

Glenn Close stars as Grandmother, as the credits list her – a woman deeply, spiritually, connected to the natural world around her. Her hair in braids and her skin tanned and wrinkled, Close doesn’t rely on her plentiful star power here. She sinks into the role, larking around with her granddaughter Sophia (spirited newcomer Emily Matthews), smoking cigarettes and even indulging in a bit of wild swimming (a tastefully shot sequence that concludes with her glimpsed naked in the forest).

Joining Close and Matthews is Anders Danielsen Lie, the Danish actor who broke out in Joachim Trier’s The Worst Person in the World and Sentimental Value. Here, his character – again, just listed as ‘Father’ – is a man struggling with his emotions. In a narrative of understatement, we’re led to assume that his partner – Sophia’s mother – has died recently. The rivers of pain still flow deeply, and yet he has no idea how to bond with his daughter.

Want to see this content?

This page contains content provided by Google reCAPTCHA. We ask for your permission before anything is loaded, as Google reCAPTCHA may use cookies and other technologies. To view this content, choose 'Accept and continue' to allow Google reCAPTCHA and its required purposes.

Accept and continue

At one point, we see him sitting on the roof astride a weathervane. It’s a potent image as he too seeks direction. But in a plot so thin it’s near enough translucent, you won’t find any major emotional showdowns. About as close as an argument that we get is when Sophia states “I hate families”, as she blasphemes about God – perhaps her way of raging to the Heavens about the loss of her mother.

She has her Gran, of course, but as she so pointedly reminds Sophia, “I won’t be here forever.” Much to her own frustrations, her memories are fading; basic things she can no longer remember. Time is marching on, and Close’s character, without explicitly saying it, is preparing to leave this Earth for the next. “The wind is always blowing on this island,” she sighs, and you sense she can no longer cope with the rigours of life.

The late Jansson, best known as the creator of the Moomins, would surely be pleased that The Summer Book has arrived unencumbered by a gushing Hollywood adaptation. American filmmaker Charlie McDowell (Windfall), working from a faithful script by Robert Jones, is clearly attuned to the world of the book (dubbed a “masterpiece of microcosm, a perfection of the small, quiet read” by author Ali Smith).

Want to see this content?

This page contains content provided by YouTube. We ask for your permission before anything is loaded, as YouTube may use cookies and other technologies. To view this content, choose 'Accept and continue' to allow YouTube and its required purposes.

Accept and continue

The images of the natural world – ponds filled with life, raindrops cascading, brooding storms – are quite beautiful, and McDowell crafts the filmic equivalent of “the small, quiet read”. It’s what is these days called a ‘hang-out’ movie, as Grandmother and Sophia make toy boats, dance to a record, visit an old lighthouse, and gorge on blueberry pie. Simple pleasures, as they say, long before the digital age ruined our attention spans.

Shot with love by Norwegian cinematographer Sturla Brandth Grøvlen, there can be no doubting the authenticity of the story, aided by delicately-etched performances by all three. But such is the observational quality of the film, as we creep up on these characters, The Summer Book lacks real emotional punch when it needs it. The most tension it musters is when a man delivers some soggy fireworks for Midsommar, and Sophia and co. are left wondering whether they’ll ignite. A film that treats the heaviest of subjects – life, death – with the gentlest of touches.

The Summer Book is now showing in UK cinemas.

Ad

Check out more of our Film coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.

Authors

James Mottram

James Mottram is a London-based film critic, journalist, and author.

Ad

Ad

Subscribe for £1 per week

Too much to watch this autumn? Let Radio Times magazine and app do the choosing, with expert picks across TV, streaming and film.

Subscribe now

Loading...

Ad

Loading...