When an actor becomes associated with a major franchise, it's easy to lose sight of who they are outside that specific framework, and of other work that they've done. At the time that Anton Yelchin starred as Pavel Chekhov in J. J. Abrams' 'Star Trek' in 2009, I wasn't otherwise familiar with him, and it seemed like he came out of nowhere to become a household name. The truth, I would later come to discover, is that by that point he was already pretty solidly established as a child actor. Watching 'Love, Antosha' is very much an extension of that feeling of discovery, as we get a very intimate portrait of who Yelchin was on-screen and beyond. The viewing experience is rather just as I had expected: it's a little sad, somewhat serving as a time capsule in light of his death at only 27 years of age, but also unmistakably warm and touching as friends, family, and coworkers fondly reflect on the person they knew. As a matter of personal preference this documentary may not be for everyone, but it's strongly enchanting of its own merits and very much worth checking out.
I deeply admire the work poured into this from all involved. The picture owes much to its director, producers, cinematographer, and editor - and to Nicolas Cage, whose narration and reading of Yelchin's writings is surprisingly affecting. More to the point, thoguh, 'Love, Antosha' is indisputably a passion project, a labor of love, for all those who contributed to it. The interviews, the home videos, the amateur movies, the photos, the film clips and behind-the-scenes footage, the archival footage - the number of people who helped to give form to this feature speaks volumes about Yelchin's magnetic personality, and the effect he had on those around him. By all means, the portrait that emerges of the man evokes a series of specific descriptors: artistic, creative, imaginative, ambitious; a devoted son, a caring friend, a hard-working yet refreshing coworker; emotive, empathetic, self-aware. He was someone who loved movies, and loved making movies, but who outside cinema also had a terrifically vibrant energy about him. And through it all, unknown to almost anyone except those closest to him, he also battled with chronic illness.
One can only lament that Yelchin died so young and tragically - the immense heart and intelligence with which he approached his career specifically, but all of life generally, is wonderfully endearing. Maybe he'd have been one of those actors to decide he'd had enough of the industry, and walked away from it; maybe he'd have been someone that kept working as long as he possibly could. The "what if's" are ponderous. What is certain, however, is that 'Love, Antosha' leaves us with feelings that we wish it could have been longer still, and that we should educate ourselves on whatever films of Yelchin's we haven't yet had the opportunity to watch. Though attended to first and foremost with wholehearted affection, this picture was made no less so with a tremendous amount of care, shaping the material into an ordered form that traces the actor's life and career and in so doing makes the sum of it all even more impactful. Whether one is an especial fan of Yelchin or just an ardent cinephile, this is a splendid, beautiful tribute that's well worth watching.
I deeply admire the work poured into this from all involved. The picture owes much to its director, producers, cinematographer, and editor - and to Nicolas Cage, whose narration and reading of Yelchin's writings is surprisingly affecting. More to the point, thoguh, 'Love, Antosha' is indisputably a passion project, a labor of love, for all those who contributed to it. The interviews, the home videos, the amateur movies, the photos, the film clips and behind-the-scenes footage, the archival footage - the number of people who helped to give form to this feature speaks volumes about Yelchin's magnetic personality, and the effect he had on those around him. By all means, the portrait that emerges of the man evokes a series of specific descriptors: artistic, creative, imaginative, ambitious; a devoted son, a caring friend, a hard-working yet refreshing coworker; emotive, empathetic, self-aware. He was someone who loved movies, and loved making movies, but who outside cinema also had a terrifically vibrant energy about him. And through it all, unknown to almost anyone except those closest to him, he also battled with chronic illness.
One can only lament that Yelchin died so young and tragically - the immense heart and intelligence with which he approached his career specifically, but all of life generally, is wonderfully endearing. Maybe he'd have been one of those actors to decide he'd had enough of the industry, and walked away from it; maybe he'd have been someone that kept working as long as he possibly could. The "what if's" are ponderous. What is certain, however, is that 'Love, Antosha' leaves us with feelings that we wish it could have been longer still, and that we should educate ourselves on whatever films of Yelchin's we haven't yet had the opportunity to watch. Though attended to first and foremost with wholehearted affection, this picture was made no less so with a tremendous amount of care, shaping the material into an ordered form that traces the actor's life and career and in so doing makes the sum of it all even more impactful. Whether one is an especial fan of Yelchin or just an ardent cinephile, this is a splendid, beautiful tribute that's well worth watching.