By the time his life ended tragically in 2016 at just 27 years old, Anton Yelchin had already built up an impressive filmography. He is perhaps best remembered for playing Pavel Chekov in the J.J. Abrams Star Trek reboot films, but his work largely spanned the spectrum of independent and art films. In the documentary Love, Antosha, Yelchin’s short life, artistic endeavors, and dedication to craft are explored lovingly through scenes from his many films, remembrances of those who were close to him, and personal letters and photographs.
Documentaries often have an annoying habit of overly praising their subject after the fact to where it becomes hard to believe someone could be so wonderful. “So and so was such an amazing person in every aspect of their life. They really were the best person in the history of the world and the best at whatever it was that they did. I loved them with all my heart and they loved me…” and on and on. What makes Love, Antosha different is that, while his friends, family, co-stars, and other industry cohorts certainly sing his praises, it’s clear that they are doing so with the utmost sincerity. I believe what they are saying about their friend and loved one.
What helps convey this earnestness is that the wounds are still open. The loss is still fresh, with his loved ones still trying to make sense of it all. No one is over him, and the frustration over the pointlessness of how he died is written all over their faces. He’s not painted as a virtuous saint, though, but as a kid who grew up wanting to be in the movies and worked damned hard to get there. Yelchin was an actor’s actor – someone who took his craft very seriously and was in turn well-respected among his peers. It’s refreshing to watch Hollywood elites open up about one of their own in such a frank and honest way.
At the heart of the story is Yelchin’s devoted parents, Irina and Viktor. Their story is woven into the fabric of Anton’s through the many letters the loving son sent to his devoted mother (all ending with the signature “Love, Antosha”). Their emigration from the Soviet Union shortly after Anton’s birth was a constant source of inspiration for their son and the dedicated way in which they encouraged him to follow his dreams was unquestioning and constant.
What best sums up the tragedy of Yelchin’s death comes from his Star Trek co-star Chris Pine late in the film. I won’t quote or paraphrase his words because it’s best left for you to see it come from him, but he’s clearly confused, frustrated, and angry about what happened to his friend. It’s in these moments that the film becomes more than the sum of its parts. The fragility of life is made clear but, perhaps more importantly, the joys and wonders of it are as well. All that Anton Yelchin achieved in his short life was done so out of a sense of exploration and a commitment to hard work. Love, Antosha makes that clear
James is a writer, skateboarder, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.