Cannes Review: Sandra Wollner Captures the Moment with Sublime Everytime

      In Everytime, a sunlit film addressing themes of death and love that could be among the best at Cannes this year, the profound loss of a teenage girl deeply impacts her mother, younger sister, and boyfriend, leaving them in shared devastation. Set in modern East Berlin during the warm months, the film initially seems influenced by the Berlin School aesthetics similar to those of Christian Petzold and Angela Schanalec, yet it lacks their characteristic minimalism and literary sadness. Without needing to know that Gregory Oke is the cinematographer, one may find their thoughts drifting to Charlotte Wells’ Aftersun—another film illustrating how terrible events can occur regardless of the weather.

      Everytime (even its compounded title hints at a Wells-like resonance) is directed by Sandra Wollner, a reflective Austrian filmmaker who explored the aftermath of child loss in her previous work, The Trouble with Being Born. While the latter film evoked the feel of Spielberg’s A.I. through Ulrich Seidl’s lens, her latest—set against lush Lichtenberg scenery and accompanied by a soothing piano score from David Schweighart—feels more like a waking dream. If you witnessed the earlier film at the 2020 Berlinale or elsewhere and have been anxiously awaiting Wollner’s next project, she has crafted a minor-chord success that reveals warmth in areas where Born only displayed harsh sorrow.

      The narrative unfolds in the days before a family vacation where single mother Ella (Birgit Minichmayr) and her two daughters, Jessie (Carla Hüttermann) and Mellie (Lotte Keiling), head to a hotel in Tenerife, reminiscent of a trip Ella and Jessie’s father took when she was a baby. The night before departure, Jessie sneaks out with her boyfriend Lux (Tristan López) to a party in the woods, leading to a tragic incident as dawn breaks. In the aftermath, the remaining trio bears witness to each other’s grief, remaining close in hopes of capturing the absent girl’s reflected essence. They browse through photos, reread messages, and revisit crucial locations, including retracing Jessie’s last day and ultimately returning to the Tenerife hotel from years ago. While on the island, those reflections begin to play tricks with the light, and possibly their thoughts. It’s likely best to leave it there.

      Regarding Oke's exceptional talent, the scenes he and Wollner create together—each serving as a clearly defined yet complementary counterpoint to the other’s style—only amplify my confusion at this being his first feature since collaborating with Wells in 2022. In one of Everytime’s key transcendental moments, the camera finds Jessie and Lux atop an apartment building amidst the Berlin skyline, only to be diverted by a bird's flight; in another, Lux is captured from afar, this time engaging in a cathartic swim in a canal that vividly reflects the dusk sky; but, the highlight emerges in Wollner’s exquisite conclusion, where the film makes significant references—echoing Minecraft, a scene from Under the Skin, a lighthouse with VanderMeer-like qualities, and some distant Chris Marker-esque narration—but emerges at the other end intact, if not completely renewed. Would it have been too much trouble for her to title this film The Trouble with Being Alive?

      Considering the tepid reactions to some of this year’s Cannes entries, I suspect Everytime had at least a chance of being included in the competition, and that, if given the opportunity a few years from now, they are unlikely to make the same error again. In introducing the premiere, Wollner expressed her hope that the audience would allow the film to resonate with them, but she likely didn’t need to request this. This is a film that remains in the bloodstream, and I have not stopped reflecting on it since.

      Everytime premiered at the 2026 Cannes Film Festival.