As someone who lost their father at a young age, Honeyjoon connected with me almost immediately. Not because it tries to manufacture tears or deliver grand speeches about grief, but because it understands something far messier: losing someone doesn’t necessarily bring people together. Sometimes it creates distance. Sometimes it leaves people speaking entirely different emotional languages.
Writer-director Lilian T. Mehrel‘s feature debut follows June (Ayden Mayeri) and her Persian-British mother Lela (Amira Casar) as they travel to the Azores on the first anniversary of the death of June’s father and Lela’s husband. Their mission is simple on paper: honour his memory and scatter part of his remains in a place he once loved. Emotionally, however, neither woman seems remotely prepared for the journey.
What makes Honeyjoon so affecting is that grief is never treated as a singular experience. Lela clings to memory, routine and responsibility. June wants movement, distraction and anything that might make her feel alive again; much of this all merging in the form of José Condessa as their impossibly handsome guide, João. They love each other deeply, but throughout much of the film they seem incapable of occupying the same emotional space.
Mehrel wisely resists turning this into a heavy-handed drama. There are tears, certainly, but there is also humour, awkwardness and even sensuality. The film opens with a moment that immediately establishes June’s desire to escape the shadow of loss, setting the tone for a story that understands grief can coexist with longing, attraction and laughter. Life doesn’t pause simply because someone dies, and Honeyjoon never forgets that.
Much of the film’s success rests on the shoulders of Mayeri and Casar, who share a wonderfully believable chemistry. Mayeri delivers career-best work here, balancing deadpan humour with an underlying sadness that never fully disappears. June is funny and impulsive, but there’s a persistent ache beneath every smile. Casar is equally impressive, portraying a woman trying to maintain composure while quietly confronting the reality of a future she never imagined for herself.
Together, they create a mother-daughter dynamic that feels lived-in rather than scripted. Their arguments don’t feel like movie arguments. Their frustrations don’t feel manufactured. They feel like two people who know exactly how to hurt one another because they know each other so well.
The Azores prove to be more than just a picturesque backdrop. Surrounded by honeymooners and postcard-perfect scenery, June and Lela often appear emotionally stranded in a place designed for celebration and romance. Mehrel draws subtle humour from that contrast while also allowing the island’s natural beauty to become a gentle reminder that life continues moving forward, even when you’re not ready for it to.
The film also touches on themes of identity, generational difference and the Iranian diaspora through Lela’s constant attention to news from her homeland. These elements add texture without overwhelming the central story, which remains firmly focused on the complicated bond between a mother and daughter attempting to navigate loss together while often pulling in opposite directions.
At times, Honeyjoon juggles a few too many ideas. Its shifts between grief drama, travelogue, romance and political reflection don’t always blend seamlessly. Yet even when the film occasionally wanders, its emotional honesty keeps it grounded.
What stayed with me most wasn’t a single scene or revelation. It was the film’s recognition that grief isn’t a destination you arrive at. It’s something you carry. Sometimes quietly. Sometimes clumsily. Sometimes in ways that don’t make sense to anyone else. Honeyjoon understands that healing isn’t about moving on from the people we’ve lost. It’s about learning how to move forward with them still occupying space inside us. For anyone who has lost a parent, that truth lands with particular force.
Tender, funny and deeply compassionate, Honeyjoon marks Mehrel as a filmmaker worth watching, delivering a debut that finds beauty not in overcoming grief, but in learning how to live alongside it.
FOUR STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Honeyjoon is opening in New York on June 10th, 2026 at the IFC Center, before opening in Los Angeles on June 12th (Laemmle Royal), June 19th (Laemmle Town Center) and June 26th (Laemmle Glendale), followed by Chicago at the Gene Siskel Film Center on June 19th.
