mindful memorials

Poison is a masterfully crafted and deeply affecting portrayal of a couple grappling with the long shadow cast by the sudden loss of their child. Tim Roth and Trine Dyrholm deliver extraordinary performances, holding the screen for the film’s entirety with a raw intensity that is both heartbreaking and magnetic. Beautifully shot and meticulously detailed, every frame of Poison feels intentional - each visual element reinforcing the complex emotional landscape inhabited by its characters. The film doesn’t rely on spectacle; instead, it draws us in with the power of its stillness, its silence, and the honest portrayal of two people irrevocably changed by grief. What sets Poison apart is its unwavering commitment to truth. It does not flinch from the darkest corners of loss. This is not a sentimental depiction of mourning, but an unvarnished look at the emotional wreckage that follows a life-altering tragedy - years down the line. It shows how grief lingers, mutates, and becomes part of the very fabric of a person’s existence. This film is not for the faint-hearted. It demands emotional presence from its audience, and for those who have not lived through a similar loss, it may be difficult to sit with its intensity. Some of the more negative reviews seem to reflect this discomfort - an unwillingness, perhaps, to acknowledge the hard truths the film explores. But that is exactly why Poison matters. Stories like this offer something rare and essential: recognition. They make space in our cultural conversation for a kind of pain that is often invisible. In showing the aftermath of trauma without romanticism or easy resolution, Poison invites us to witness and to understand - and in doing so, offers a quiet kind of solidarity to those who walk that path. It is a profoundly important piece of cinema. Difficult, yes - but also deeply human.