Video Review: Phillip Phillips “Gone, Gone, Gone”

Black-and-white film homemade video footage of a mother and daughter together swirls past. It leads to the little girl, now an adult in their backyard, holding her daughter with her husband beside her. Another generation of the family has begun. The American flag waves. An older woman looks into the camera.

By the sunset, Phillip Phillips takes a walk along the beach.

A young woman in a red dress folds her hands. A twelve-year-old girl stands in a blue dress by the same ocean. In a garage, a man smokes a cigar. The young woman thinks of what her future will hold. In the same garage, he plays the guitar, remembering how his grandfather loved spending afternoons there. Now, it’s his space.

A man touches his girlfriend’s cheek. In grainy video footage, couples kiss, both young and old, stretching from the 60s to the present. All the couples hold hands. The young woman in the red dress runs on the beach. The twelve-year-old version of her does the same.  Geese fly.

A man jumps into the pool in the backyard. A twentysomething young man, who learned how to swim in the same pool, vies for a medal for the butterfly relay. In the garage, a young woman puts her arm around the shoulders of her boyfriend, who has flowers for her.

Against a fence, a little boy laughs. Phillips does the same laugh.

In the home video footage, a father straightens his hair and an aunt blows a kiss. Two boys play with a shopping cart. A young woman jumps on her bed. In the home video footage, an uncle dances as he holds a Christmas tree ornament. A little boy plays in the driveway. Two little girls jump up and down, holding hands. On a bench, two older women talk. During the home video footage, a father holds his daughter with his wife next to him while they stand by the Christmas tree.

Two couples take a walk on the beach. Underneath the pier, a couple walks and embrace. In the home video footage, a couple runs into the ocean.

Phillips tosses a stone into the ocean.

In the home video footage, two kids play in a kiddie pool. They swing on a tire. A mother bites on a marshmallow.

At a family bonfire, he performs. Everyone has sparklers. In the home video footage, a boy dunks a basketball on the court in the driveway. A door stands up in the forest. From the home video footage, people wave to the camera. A ferris wheel is shown. Phillips stares into the ocean.

Rating: 4.5/5

Life is continous, even if some of the people in the home video footage have passed. It’s another generation that follows, who will share blood and genes with the other members. Through memories of Christmas and hot summer days, they are connected to each other.

Phillip Phillips is a part of the current generation of his family. At the bonfire, he sees his cousin and they bring their significant others. He hangs out in the garage, like his grandfather.  He and his sister played all the time in the backyard. The same amusement park they would go to for vacations now has a ferris wheel and has taken out the teacup ride. A pool in the backyard led his brother to become a competitive swimmer.

The video is fond of memories of past holidays, with aunts and uncles goofing off and celebrating milestones. They are the family on Facebook who write appreciative notes on each other’s walls and tag another the most often in photos. They want to remember the important events that happened in their family. However, a video camera has been replaced a cell phone.

Director: Joseph Toman Year: 2013

This post contains affiliate links, which means I will receive a small commission from items purchased through them

Pam Avoledo Administrator
Pam Avoledo spends her time binge-watching classic teen dramas and stands firm in her pro-Leyton stance. She also received her journalism degree in 2006 from Oakland University. Her work has been published in the White Wall Review, Sledgehammer Lit ,Greatest City Collective, 45 Magazine ,Fevers of the Mind, Daily Drunk Mag\'s Kirstofia anthology. and forthcoming in Scrawl Place

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.