The Paradox of In Waves: When Animation Outshines Its Own Narrative

The 2026 Cannes Film Festival has served as a global stage for bold, experimental storytelling, yet few entries have sparked as much division as In Waves. Based on the acclaimed graphic memoir by illustrator AJ Dungo, the animated feature—directed by Phuong Mai Nguyen with a screenplay by Fanny Burdino and Samuel Doux—arrived at the Croisette with high expectations. It promised a profound exploration of grief, love, and the cultural history of surfing. Instead, it delivered a visually breathtaking experience that frequently stumbles under the weight of its own generic storytelling tropes.

A Visual Triumph, A Narrative Quagmire

At its core, In Waves is a film of two halves: the transcendent and the mundane. The animation is nothing short of masterful. Nguyen utilizes a rich, vibrant color palette to capture the exhilaration of youth, the chemistry of a budding romance, and the fluid, rhythmic beauty of the ocean. When the protagonist, a shy artist named AJ (voiced by Will Sharpe), first encounters the enigmatic and “impossibly cool” Kristen (voiced by Stephanie Hsu), the film’s visual language captures the feeling of time standing still.

However, beneath this aesthetic brilliance lies a script that feels remarkably tethered to the conventions of the "sick-girl" subgenre—a trope-heavy category of cinema that has arguably been exhausted. Despite the film’s attempt to elevate its source material, it remains trapped in a familiar cycle: a boy meets a girl, they fall in love, the girl falls ill, and the boy is forced to grow up. While the animation invites the audience into a dreamscape, the screenplay struggles to move beyond the shallow waters of its own premise.

A Tripartite Chronology of Grief and History

The narrative structure of In Waves is ambitious, weaving together three distinct timelines that attempt to mirror the non-linear nature of memory and trauma.

The Romance (The Present)

The primary timeline follows the teenage AJ and his best friend, Cisco (Alejandro Antonio Ruiz), navigating the social hierarchies of a Los Angeles high school. It is here that the film’s geography feels jarringly inconsistent, but the emotional stakes are set. AJ, an aquaphobic skateboarder, is drawn out of his shell by Kristen, who serves as his guide to the world of surfing. Their courtship is depicted with a charm that is undeniably infectious; their FaceTime calls and clandestine nighttime meetings are rendered with a warmth that makes the audience want to believe in their connection.

The Historical Context (The Past)

Perhaps the most successful element of the film is its interweaving of pre-colonial Hawaiian history. As Kristen teaches AJ to surf, she imparts the legacy of Duke Kahanamoku, the Native Hawaiian Olympic swimmer who reclaimed the art of surfing after it had been suppressed by colonial forces. These segments are presented in a stunning, minimalist black-and-white style. The pen-and-ink drawings evoke the raw power of the ocean, beautifully linking the natural world to the human experience. In one standout sequence, the swirling lines of the ocean, the bark of a tree, and the strands of Kristen’s hair converge into a singular, interconnected image of the world.

The Aftermath (The Future)

The third timeline depicts a solitary, older AJ living in a van on the beach, feverishly documenting his memories through art. This segment is drained of color, signaling the void left by his loss. While the film attempts to build mystery around why AJ is alone, the narrative telegraphs the "twist"—Kristen’s terminal illness—so early that any suspense is replaced by a sense of impending, formulaic dread.

Supporting Data and Character Dynamics

The performances of Will Sharpe and Stephanie Hsu provide a necessary anchor for the film’s more abstract stylistic choices. Hsu brings a biting, resilient spunk to Kristen, preventing her from becoming a mere plot device, while Sharpe manages to inject a palpable, raw vulnerability into AJ.

However, the film suffers from a critical lack of "interiority" for its leading lady. As the plot progresses, Kristen’s identity is increasingly subsumed by her diagnosis. She ceases to be a multifaceted character and becomes, instead, "the dying girl." The film hits every requisite beat of the genre: the hospital scenes, the medical decisions, the road trip to the mountains, and the inevitable, lingering goodbyes. While the direction is undeniably sensitive, the storytelling fails to differentiate Kristen from countless other characters who have been sacrificed to the "inspiration bait" of terminal illness cinema.

The Philosophical Failure of the Climax

The film’s ultimate undoing lies in its attempt to synthesize its metaphors. The title, In Waves, is intended to be a profound reflection on the nature of grief. In the final sequence, a voiceover narration by AJ attempts to equate the cycle of the ocean with the cycle of mourning, suggesting that because one cannot stop the waves of grief, one must learn to "ride them."

While intended to be a cathartic, poetic resolution, the delivery lands with the depth of a fortune cookie. Rather than providing a nuanced examination of loss, the film settles for a sanitized, idealized account. There is no grit, no specific detail of the pain of death—only a broad, sweeping sentimentality that undermines the very real, very painful subject matter it purports to explore.

Implications for Future Animation

In Waves stands as a cautionary tale for modern animation: beautiful visuals cannot compensate for a lack of narrative depth. The film serves as a reminder that when adapting autobiographical memoirs, the challenge is not just to retell the events, but to capture the subjective truth of the people involved. By failing to give Kristen a life that exists independent of her cancer or her relationship with AJ, the film inadvertently turns a deeply personal story into a generic product.

The film is currently seeking U.S. distribution following its Cannes debut. Whether it finds an audience outside of the festival circuit remains to be seen. For animation enthusiasts, the craft on display is worth the price of admission, but for those seeking a story that truly understands the complexities of the human condition, In Waves remains an unfinished sketch.

Summary of Critical Reception

• Strengths: Exceptional, emotionally resonant animation; profound exploration of historical surfing culture; strong lead vocal performances.
• Weaknesses: Relies on tired "sick-girl" tropes; lack of interiority for the female lead; predictable and clichéd dialogue; surface-level exploration of grief.
• Verdict: A film that is visually stunning but narratively hollow.

Grade: C

“In Waves” premiered at the 2026 Cannes Film Festival. It is currently seeking U.S. distribution.