In the opening scene of Trey Edward Shults’ 2019 film Waves, a fluid 720-degree shot introduces us to star athlete Tyler Williams and his girlfriend Alexis as they coast down a South Florida highway in carefree abandon. The shots that follow bring us into the merciless world of high-intensity performance in which Tyler struggles to maintain momentum. Coaches inform the wrestler and his teammates, “There are no second chances… There is no second place… Have a plan when stepping onto the mat… Have a plan when you step out into life.” An English teacher reminds the class right before dismissal, “Always, carpe diem.” The team is coached to chant in unison, “I cannot be taken down… I am a new machine.”

Amplified by the pressures inflicted on him by his well-meaning yet demanding father (the inimitable Sterling K. Brown), Tyler’s life accelerates toward destruction. As his storyline develops, we see him pursuing a kind of love contrary to that which St. Paul describes in 1 Corinthians 13, in which the apostle (and Tyler’s pastor) proclaims, “Love does not seek its own.” Rather, the “love” Tyler pledges to Alexis is driven by a neurotic compulsion that culminates in her unfortunate, albeit unintentional murder at the conclusion of the film’s first act.

It is at this pivotal moment, however, that the film intimates “a more excellent way” (1 Corinthians 12:31). Tyler sits in the back of a police car having been apprehended for his reckless crime of passion. We see a fade to black, yet continue to hear Trent Reznor’s haunting score as an amorphous red hue gradually subsumes the darkness. We hear what resembles either a heartbeat or breathing or some combination of both, invoking motifs of birth or, rather, rebirth. Eventually we see Tyler’s sister Emily also sitting in the backseat, but not in a police car. She’s a passenger in the family car as she and her parents approach the courthouse where Tyler’s trial is underway. This time they are not on their way to church or to a family dinner as has been presented in earlier scenes. They are on their way to hear a verdict; not just on Tyler, but on their family’s cohesion.

After Tyler is sentenced to 35 years in a Florida state prison, the film’s focus shifts to Emily. As her story unfolds, Shults presents the complete antithesis to Tyler’s narrative. The camera captures her in pensive moments as she attempts to assess the implications of her brother’s heinous act and ensuing incarceration. Her grief is tinged with conflicting emotions as, at one point, she denounces him as being utterly monstrous—to which her father graciously counters, in a moment rife with intercessory overtones, with his favorite verse: “Love covers a multitude of sins.”

References to faith, religion, and church are sparingly infused throughout Waves, providing a subtle context dissimilar to the often heavy-handed approach of typical “faith films.” But what’s most striking is the way Emily’s story, juxtaposed against her brother’s, underscores the supremacy of sacrificial love and grace.

After watching the film twice, I found myself driven to read and reread 1 Corinthians 13. What stood out as I re-familiarized myself with this classic text was Paul’s declaration that “love never ends…faith, hope, and love remain, but the greatest of these is love.”

During her season of grief, Emily befriends Luke (Lucas Hedges) who, earlier in the film, sparred against Tyler during wrestling practice. After a scene aptly conveying an awkward first date, an organic and genuine relationship blossoms in a context of vulnerability and grace. Virtually every aspect of Tyler’s story is recapitulated, but with redemptive implications. We see, for example, Emily hanging out the window of the passenger side as Luke drives them home from a date. An identical scene in the first act shows Tyler hanging out the window, but deluded by the narcotics he has consumed to numb the pain of his recent breakup with Alexis. What’s significant about this contrast is that Alexis has ended the relationship due to Tyler pressuring her to abort their unborn child; conversely, Emily has just been told by Luke that there’s no pressure to do ecstasy at a party they had previously attended. In Emily’s sequence, the soundtrack accentuates the euphoric state in which she remains enraptured, having been found by a love free of compulsion and manipulation.

A genuineness pervades Luke and Emily’s relationship. Contrary to the superficiality that marked Tyler’s relationship with Alexis, Emily and Luke take time to learn about one another’s likes and dislikes; they discuss the distinct features of sea manatees and spontaneously visit an aquarium. Chance the Rapper’s “How Great” undergirds a casual, albeit brief conversation about their religious upbringing. More intimately, they discuss their families, specifically Luke’s estranged father who we learn is dying from cancer. Emily suggests they embark upon an impromptu road trip so Luke can make peace with his dad, despite their strained relationship.

While consoling Luke in the hospice where he makes amends with his dad, Emily sends a text to her own parents initiating the reconciliation their fractured family needs in the wake of Tyler’s downfall. What follows are scenes with scarce dialogue, yet rich with the impressions of subsiding relational tension, reflection and remorse over sins committed, and somber reckoning with the reality of loss. Waves uniquely interweaves themes of love and loss, while demonstrating how the latter can give way to the flourishing of the former. The film ultimately asserts that we do not per se find love but rather that we are found by love—and often in our most broken state.

The final shot shows Emily effortlessly pedaling her bicycle through her quaint suburban neighborhood. With some reservation, she extends her arms as she glides down the street. We’re reminded of the opening shot where Tyler gives the appearance of being free as he drives with his hands removed from the steering wheel. What looks like freedom is eventually revealed to be a life spiraling out of control; what looked like love was exposed as a desperate lust for control. But because of grace, what looks like a family shattered by tragedy turns out to be a picture of life from the dead, where, despite everything, faith, hope, and love remain. Sound familiar?

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