I Carry You With Me (Te Llevo Conmigo)

It may come as a surprise to many U.S. viewers of the new film titled I Carry You With Me (Te Llevo Conmigo), but Mexico has a longer history of LGBT rights than the U.S. does, according to research by Caroline Beer and Victor Cruz Aceves. 

Despite the U.S. having a more powerful LGBT rights movement, a less religious population, and a center-left political party ruling the country for the majority of the past few decades, it is Mexico that decriminalized sodomy one hundred years before the U.S. did. Mexico also unanimously passed an anti-discrimination law in 2003, yet there still is no such law on U.S. books (though the U.S. Supreme Court did outlaw discrimination based on sexual orientation last year). The Mexican Constitution prohibits discrimination based on sexual preferences; the U.S. Constitution does not. Part of this (again, according to Beer and Acevez) is due to secularism playing a bigger role in national politics in Mexico, despite the higher popularity of religion (especially the Catholic Church). 

That being said, the story of I Carry You With Me primarily takes place in 1994, a very different time than 2021 or even 2003. Many queer Mexicans had rights, but things could still be difficult. 1994 was before Patria Jiménez became the first openly gay member of the Mexican parliament in 1997, and it was more than a decade before Mexico City legalized same-sex civil unions. Despite how things have generally been better for a longer period of time for queer people in Mexico than in the U.S., this is also not to suggest that Iván and Gerardo's stories (the two main narratives we witness in this film) are not without trials. Some anecdotal accounts offer powerful reminders of real-life homophobia, like a blog from teenager Paulina Aldaba, who wrote about being told that homosexuality was how "Satan separated people from God," or how "homophobic slurs became a staple of everyone's vocabulary." 

I Carry You With Me is one of two Mexican dramas that have made its way to the United States this year dealing with border crossings (the other being the significantly darker and more depressing Identifying Features). It starts in modern-day New York City. Iván (played here in as a middle-aged man by Gerardo Zabaleta) carries a lifetime of memories, achievements, and heartache. There has simultaneously been for him an enormous amount of guilt and alienation as a gay man who crossed over from Mexico into the United States, leaving behind his son to live with a mother who was repulsed by Iván's sexual orientation. Iván dreams of his younger self. Most of the film's scenes show younger Iván in Mexico, struggling to make money as a dishwasher while he's a qualified and talented chef, but also hiding his orientation in order to keep seeing his young son. 

In these scenes (in which the character is played by Armando Espitia), he meets a teacher named Gerardo (Christian Vázquez), and there is immediate attraction. The two start flirting (telling stories like how Iván spent his younger years in the 80s masturbating to posters of Tom Cruise) and dating. Gerardo is more comfortable in his skin, while Iván is a "complicated boyfriend." How could Gerardo not be less closeted? His mother has been quite supportive of him, despite the undeniable cruelty of his brutal father, who left him alone in the remote part of their village at night as punishment for "acting like a girl." In this scene, the young actor Nery Arredondo provides a scene-stealing moment as a scared Gerardo non-verbally begging for mercy from his father. This is one aspect of their stories that are similar; when Iván was a boy (played by Yael Tadeo), he was discovered by his father in a dress and with makeup on, and his father, too, was disgusted, though he didn't resort to measures as extreme as Gerardo's did.

For the scenes in which Iván and Gerardo become intimately involved, there is a romantic and subtle yet dreamlike quality to the filmmaking. (Compare this to scenes in Identifying Features, which very much are nightmarish.) But for much of the film, the scenes delve into the tragic aspects of queer stories; this may make the film come across as a bit old-fashioned to many post-Call Me By Your Name audience members, as I Carry You With Me contains many expected tragic elements of queer storytelling: acts of random violence, cultural conservatism, closetedness, toxic masculinity, and familial rejection. I wouldn't blame some people for not wanting to watch the film due to the depressing nature of it. 

I Carry You With Me juxtaposes this tragedy with tales of border crossings and other experiences of undocumented workers, adding on top of that moments of betrayal, desperate measures to survive, loneliness, lies, and questions about how authentic the American Dream actually is (and who gets a shot at it). Like Moonlight before it, I Carry You With Me contains the stories of two gay men in love told through three different periods of their lives. By the end of the film, one will clearly recognize the major elements of the film's success in terms of storytelling: the direction of Heidi Ewing (the documentarian who makes her narrative feature film debut here), the superb screenplay by Ewing and Alan Page Arriaga, and especially the acting. There is not a single flawed performance in this movie, especially those of Espitia and Vázquez.   

The somber tone and heart-rendering moments may understandably not be for everyone, but for a chance to witness such exceptional acting, as well as a reminder of just how much progress has been made in such a relatively short amount of time, this film is one many should seek out. 

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Charade

 "All I want for Christmas is to make another movie with Audrey Hepburn." So said Cary Grant, Hollywood's amiable king of charisma. Alas, he never got his wish, but one can certainly imagine that a second pairing would have been just as rewarding as the first. The two stars were paired as the leads in Charade, the 1963 film directed by Stanley Donen, that remains possibly the finest film in the public domain. (It ended up there due to a copyright notice error.) Often described as "the best Hitchcock film Hitchcock never directed," Charade is one of the most alluring films in cinematic history. Much of it is due to the wonderful pairing of these two. It would be unfair to say they carry the film. Many others involved deserve acclaim for how Charade turned out. But their pairing remains one of Hollywood's most brilliant castings.

Hepburn plays Reggie Lambert, an interpreter working in Paris taking a skiing trip in the Alps. Her vacation doesn't seem to be bringing her much comfort, though, as her upcoming divorce to her husband, Charles, weighs on her mind, providing her a presumably equal sense of liberation and anxiety. While on vacation, she meets a man identifying himself as Peter Joshua, played by the incomparable Grant. He may be quite older than she (something that made Grant uncomfortable during the filming), but she appears quite smitten with him. (Needless to say, as much as romance works, the way Peter sometimes lectures Reggie comes across as very condescending.) Perhaps the two will meet again after Reggie's divorce goes through, but soon the problems commence.

Things aren't quite what they seem regarding Charles. To start, he's thrown off a train (in his pajamas, a reoccurring theme that is pointed out to us). The police detective (Jacques Marin) points out to her that Charles went by a variety of aliases and possessed a variety of passports from a variety of countries, which comes as a shock to Reggie.

At Charles' wake, attendance is low. Aside from Reggie, her friend Sylvie (Dominique Minot), and the detective, a trio of antagonists storm in one by one. Gideon (Ned Glass) takes a good look at Charlie, then promptly sneezes. Tex (James Coburn) enters next; he seems to be an equally suspicious figure, and Reggie doesn't recognize either of them. The third "mourner" is Herman (George Kennedy), a towering figure with a claw hand who bulldozes his way into the church, takes a quick look at Charlie, then violently thrusts a needle into his flesh to determine if he truly is dead. (He is.) Herman leaves immediately. Reggie has no idea what's going on. "Don't ask me," she tells Sylvie. "I'm only the widow."

At the wake, she receives a note from a CIA official named Hamilton Bartholomew, played by Walter Matthau, summoning her to the U.S. Embassy in Paris. There, looking like Dan Aykroyd imitating Walt Disney, he chews on his sandwich rather ostentatiously as he tells her that her husband was involved with the three men at the wake in an OSS operation to deliver $250,000 to the French Resistance during the war; the money never reached the Resistance. Charles was likely killed by someone after the money, and that same person may be after Reggie, believing that she now possesses it. But who is the culprit? Herman? Tex? Gideon? All three? Someone else? In this cat-and mouse thriller/comedy/romance/mystery, Reggie may have three or more murderers after her and this money she supposedly has. Making matters worse for her is the fact that there is increasing evidence that Peter may not be who he says he is. The film is a fantasy, but perhaps the most fantastical element is Reggie constantly believing Peter after every edit to his story.

From her first moments, Hepburn demonstrates her mastery at delivering dialogue, particularly the one-liners aplenty provided by writers Peter Stone and Marc Behm, such as when she asks why Jean-Louis (Sylvie's son) can't do "something constructive like start an avalanche or something." This is a remarkably witty film, and if you like escapism from the way real people talk in the real world, Charade might be just the fit for you.

It's not just the rich screenplay that helps Charade succeed so well. Charles Lang's camera is an active one, whether it's from the perspective of the dead Charles in the morgue or frantically following Reggie as she finds her apartment shockingly empty. The fight on the roof between Grant and Kennedy is effectively shot, and is assisted by Henry Mancini's score, which also adds to the delight of Charade. Incidentally, Mancini's famous score remains the only aspect of Charade that is not in the public domain.

The acting in Charade is, for the most part, top-notch. Hepburn and Grant hit all the right notes, as does Matthau, a performance dripping with bureaucratic aridity. Despite Glass' sneezing in a gratuitous manner that comes across as very unfunny, Kennedy going full boogeyman, and Coburn really reaching for all those Southernisms, they all do a fine job as a trio of menacing villains. Even the boy playing Jean-Louis (Thomas Chelimsky) is fine, or as fine as a French-speaking child actor in a 1960s English-language film could be. Hepburn, it must be said, gives the best performance. But it is Grant who has the funniest bits. In a scene that bathes itself in 60s quirkiness and perhaps even sexual liberation, the two participate in a game at a club involving passing fruit to other people without using their hands. Grant relishes every moment, regardless of how uncomfortable it makes everyone else (characters and audience). These days, just about any character showering in his clothes to flirt with someone would be seen as peculiar at best and desperate and misguided at worst. With Grant, it's effortlessly charming.

I really adored this film the first time I saw it in high school. I've seen it at least two other times since. I cannot say it never gets old. It does, but only because the constant twists and turns are no longer novel. But other elements never diminish. The charm of the two leads is a constant joy. It's a pity they didn't have a cinematic reunion, one as fun as Charade.

This review was originally published on July 19, 2020 at the Public Domain Film Review.

 

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Emma.

Tales of matchmaking usually are lackluster. That is certainly true in Emma., the new adaption of the famous 1815 novel by Jane Austin directed by Autumn de Wilde, in her debut, with a screenplay written by Eleanor Catton. Trying to ride on the coattails of the immensely successful adaptation of Little Women directed by Greta Gerwig last year, De Wilde and her team, particularly production designer Kave Quinn and costume designer Alexandra Byrne, do an exceptional job at recreating early nineteenth century English estates, but alas, there are people (boring people) whose stories are told here, making for an uninteresting film.

Anya Taylor-Joy is Emma Woodhouse, whom Austin described as "handsome, clever, and rich." (The film's poster reminds us of this.) Taylor-Joy, who has been on a roll since her debut in the 2015 horror film The Witch, certainly fits the part, doing as good a job as possible leading a cast that doesn't succeed in keeping up with her. Emma becomes a companion of a young orphan named Harriet Smith (Mia Goth), and she decides to steer Harriet towards an ideal man. This is despite the fact that a young farmer has asked for Harriet's hand in marriage. For a reason that's unclear in the film (indeed, most of Emma's motivations throughout the story don't make any sense), Emma convinces Harriet to deny the farmer's hand in marriage and instead try to woo the local vicar, Elton (Josh O'Connor). Elton, however, is infatuated with Emma, not Harriet, and he makes quite a show when she turns him down, and cares not if he has hurt Harriet's feelings.

As for Emma, despite frequently screwing things up for the young orphan she's supposed to look out for, she starts to fancy Frank Churchill (Callum Turner), the stepson of Emma's former governess. Despite that infatuation, she will soon start to fall for George Knightley (Johnny Flynn), a young estate owner whom she often banters with. That, however, proves to be yet another problem, as Harriet starts to fall in love with George after he rescues her from being alone without a dance partner at a local ball. This is a very simplistic summary of what happens, as within twenty minutes of the film, there will be so many names to keep track of that you might want to consider bringing a pen and paper for notes.

Old novel or not, this is not an interesting plot. In fact, nothing is interesting about this story or adaptation. Why? Plot and acting, neither of which are noteworthy. Aside from Taylor-Joy, most of these performances aren't that interesting to watch. Flynn is fine as George, but Bill Nighy as Emma's father, the biggest star in the film, does essentially what he does in the majority of his performances, moving his arms about and chortling in a way that's admittedly hard to mimic but not so impressive at this point of this illustrious actor. Much, if not most, of the actors do a sort of physical comedy that seems better suited for a high school play, in which audiences would only laugh due to parental pride and remarkable kindness. I've never seen another movie in which the act of standing up and sitting down was thought to be funny, but it appears to be that that was the aim here. Chewing food and drinking tea isn't particularly funny, either, but this film seems to disagree with me.

One example of someone trying too hard is O'Connor as Vicar Elton. O'Connor has already amazed audiences with his versatility (he played one of the leads in God's Own Country and currently plays Prince Charles on The Crown). But while some of his previous work has demonstrated his ability to gain an audience's sympathy for the characters he plays, here he is mismatched. Vicar Elton is a vile character, prone to temper tantrums and not much of a man of God as he's supposed to be. There is nothing sympathetic about Elton, and so it's almost as if O'Connor is not sure what to do. He can screech and whine to decent effect, but the other scenes are just him raising his eyebrows as if O'Connor really, really wants us to know that Elton is up to no good. 

Miranda Hart, though, it must be said, is a joy to watch. In a scene in which Emma insults Miss Bates at a picnic, one really feels for her. And her shouting to her hard-of-hearing mother at a dinner scene that she "must sample the tart" is the film's sole memorable moment.

It's a pity that a film like this has turned out to be so surprisingly dull and insufferable. It is at least wonderful to listen to its score by Isobel Waller-Bridge and David Schweitzer. Byrne's costume design is also stupendous and worthy of praise. I liked these elements of Emma., but virtually nothing else. Maybe it's because I've never read the famous novel, or because I haven't seen the 1996 version, or because I barely remember Clueless, which was loosely based on this story. All I can tell you is that I was bored out of my mind, and I hope I never have to watch Emma. again.

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Atlantics

"Ocean is more ancient than the mountains, and freighted with the memories and dreams of Time."
-H.P. Lovecraft

Construction is everywhere in the opening shots of Atlantics, directed and co-written by Mati Diop, taking place on the coast of Dakar, Senegal. To the left, there are numerous buildings that appear as if they will never be finished; to the right is a futuristic-looking, prodigious tower that looks like something out of Dubai or Manama. There are plenty of cows wondering around, as well. The tower seems omnipresent, or at least the consequences of its construction are. There is the ocean, of the natural world, and the tower, man-made; both are potent and destructive forces in this tale, which won the Grand Prix at last year's Cannes Film Festival. In the first scene of Atlantics, there are also exhausted, frustrated men working in unbearable conditions building this tower without pay for three months.

Diop has discussed in interviews that this is a story of a generation of lost youth. "Times are tough," one character says here. She's right. Senegal's average monthly salary is about $100. A young man from the West African country was quoted in Reuters as saying, "The only thing we know is migration. Migration equals success." Thousands of Senegalese would agree with this, as thousands have fled for Europe. Many have failed. One of the workers in this story who has been without pay and thus must migrate is Souleiman (Ibrahima Traoré). He is in a relationship with Ada (first-time actress Mame Bineta Sané), but Ada is to wed Omar (Babacar Sylla), a wealthy businessman from a pious family. (Ada's parents are traditionalists, too, and they surely would not be happy if Ada were to dishonor them by leaving Omar for Souleiman.) "God is testing you," Ada is warned by a friend. "He put Soulemain in your path."

Ada discovers that Souleiman and some of the other men who have not been paid have decided to take the risky voyage from Senegal to Spain in hopes of finding work. Ada's story is wed to this subplot, a supernatural addition late into the film revolving around the new tower, its rich owner, and the men he's refused to pay and who have fled to Spain. But even if audiences might come away with these moments stuck with them, it's Ada's story that really drives this film. She goes through with the wedding, despite how miserable she knows the marriage will make her, but a fire starts and all events start to unravel in a most mysterious fashion. The police get involved, as it is very unclear as to how the fire was started, and this is where the film decides to be unlike most you've ever seen.

Soon it becomes apparent to the viewer that this will not be the story of Souleman but of Ada. That's the first of many turns this film takes, not simply in plot but in genre. It starts as a romantic tale of a cute young couple in which the woman is to be wed to a man she does not love. Then it becomes a mystery, then a drama, with a dash of horror and magic realism, all the while commenting on the troubles Senegalese people face; its "eat the rich" mentality puts it in good company with some of last year's most talked-about films, such as Joker, Hustlers, Parasite, and Knives Out. The topics Diop and her team seem to be commenting on, at least to me, are toxic masculinity, cultural conservatism, and capitalism.

Aside from Diop's fantastic storytelling skills, one particularly praiseworthy element of Atlantics is the score by Fatima Al Qadiri. Al Qadiri, a Kuwaiti musician based in Germany, is a member of the group Future Brown, and this is her first score for a full-length feature film; its eeriness might remind some of the music in Stranger Things. When Ada finally marries Omar, it is Al Qadiri's music that adds to the unsettledness. Fine, too, are the cinematography of Claire Mathon (who also shot Portrait of a Lady On Fire) and the cast, most of them non-actors. The most noteworthy is Sane, who was discovered by Diop walking down the street. Her natural performance is reminiscent of similar films, like Whale Rider, Wadjda, and Roma. She is able to convey a clear message with only her eyes, and she helps give Ada increasing agency as the film progresses, even as others stand in her way.

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Crazy Rich Asians

On a miserable rainy night in London, a family from Singapore rushes in from the cold after a long flight. They've arrived at a private posh hotel. Despite their reservation, they find that it is not being honored by the hotel, whose staff likely didn't realize that Mrs. Eleanor Young was in fact an Asian woman. Eleanor is played by world cinema legend Michelle Yeoh, and this opening scene says everything about the character and her performance. The enormous exercise in patience and restraint that require her not to lose her temper when the hotel manager suggests she and her family explore Chinatown is evident.

Eleanor calls her husband and then returns to the hotel. The manager insists she leave or they will call the police. She is unfazed. The owner rushes down to enthusiastically greet her and announce that he has just spoken with her husband and is selling the hotel to the Young family of Singapore. The manager suddenly looks panicked. As she follows the soon-to-be-former owner of the hotel to his suite for a toast, she looks back at the manager and and his staff. "Do get a mop," she commands. "The floor's wet." It's one of the best scenes in the movie.

Crazy Rich Asians, adapted from the novel by Kevin Kwan, is the first major film from Hollywood to feature a predominantly Asian and Asian-American cast since The Joy Luck Club twenty-five years ago. It's disappointing that it has taken so long for another one. But given the success of this film, we may be heading into more diverse territory soon (hopefully).

Constance Wu plays Rachel Chu, an economics professor at New York University. She's dating another professor named Nick Young (son of Eleanor). He's adorable but kind of frugal, using her Netflix password and things like that. But he invites her to Singapore for spring break so they can attend his best friend's wedding. Within a matter of minutes, the entire Young family and their network know of this Rachel Chu, and they can't stand her. Even though Rachel's mother is unaware of this gossip, she tries to warn her daughter as she heads abroad to meet Nick's family.

"Your face is Chinese," she tells Rachel. "You speak Chinese." But, she adds in English, "you're different."

She's right. According to the Hofstede Center, China is a collectivist culture that can be described as masculine (success-oriented and and driven), often acting with the "interests of the group and not necessarily of themselves." The Center also claims that "people should not have aspirations above their rank." This helps explain how Rachel will be viewed by Nick's family.

On the way to Singapore, Rachel discovers that Nick is not totally who he has led on to be. Given their private suite on the plane, Nick appears to be rich -- crazy rich. Or, as he tells her, "comfortable." He tells her that the money is his family's money, not his. His family is indeed rich, and their riches are spread out across the region. One cousin is a film producer in Taiwan. There's another cousin named Eddie (played by Daily Show correspondent Ronny Chieng), a big finance guy in Hong Kong. And then there's Astrid (played by Gemma Chan), a fashion icon and probably the only cousin that Nick likes. Rachel will eventually discover that Nick is practically royalty.

The wealth of Singapore is on display from the beginning (perhaps a little too ostentatiously). One of the best lines is as Rachel walks through the airport in Singapore and remarks that there is a butterfly garden and a cinema, while JFK airport only has "salmonella and despair." During another moment, a father lectures his children that they have to finish their lunch because "there's a lot of children starving in America." In the movie, there is a more-than-obvious critique of selfie culture, gossip, and classism, especially in relation to how Eleanor (the Tiger Mom version of The Devil Wears Prada) and the others treat Rachel. Eleanor's despising Rachel is more than apparent, though like in the beginning scene, she tries to make it appear subtle. She particularly dislikes the way Rachel chases her passion (so American), not to mention the fact that Rachel was raised by a single mother who waited tables and became a real-estate agent. It's actually kind of cringe-worthy when Rachel chimes in with Nick's family, because no matter what she says or how she says it, Eleanor et al will attack.

Wu's performance is as natural as they come, and it's the most delightful of the year. The only problem I had was the way she talks as a professor in class, but I figured that was more of a problem with the screenwriting. (Professors don't talk like that; they never have and they never will. It's an annoying trope that movies and television should get rid of.) In addition to Wu and Yeoh, Awkwafina as Rachel's friend Peik Lin is usually quite funny, like a combination of the slapstick of the Silent Era and the Fifties. Henry Golding as Nick is sometimes a little too charming, but it mostly works.

Crazy Rich Asians takes the typical approach to princess-making in romantic comedies and turns it on its head. Rachel already is perfect in an American context -- she's smart, talented, beautiful, friendly, humble, forgiving, and an NYU professor. But for Eleanor Young, she will never be enough. She becomes a princess and it still doesn't work out. So she has to embrace her Americanness and show Eleanor what she's made of. And when she does, she channels all the class, wit, and humility that she has. It's the very best moment of the film, and it goes without saying that you'll be rooting for her all the way.   

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Love Simon

Simon Spier has a fairly perfect life, or so it seems. His family comfortably lives upper-middle class lives with a gorgeous home. His young sister makes breakfast practically every morning, and whether it tastes good or not, Simon and his parents are so supportive and cheer her on. He's "just like you", but with a "huge-ass secret": he's gay. Dreaming of Daniel Radcliffe for a few nights and realizing that he wasn't into girls after a few awkward dates, he has come out to himself but not to others. In many respects, he cannot be blamed. There is only one out student at his school, and this student is constantly mocked. It is not uncommon for Simon to hear jokes from his dad poking fun at "fruity" people. He listens to a lot of friends and their "gaydar", and yet they appear pretty oblivious about him.

Love, Simon, directed by Greg Berlanti and based on the novel Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli, is being hailed as the first gay teen comedy released by a major studio. Love, Simon has all the familiar elements of a teen comedy -- first love, coming of age, discovering one's identity -- and yet in some respects it does them better. But it is remarkable that moviegoers have had to wait this long for one featuring a gay teen. Fortunately, it's a (mostly) good one.

Simon doesn't exactly know how to be gay. He Googles how gay men dress, and when he finally comes out to a female friend, she tries to elicit from him which guys he's attracted to, and yet he struggles to find the right words. When confronted by an enemy about his orientation, he can't even say the word "gay". So what's clear is that he's not ready to out himself, and he's certainly doesn't want to be outed on someone else's terms. Even in 2018, despite all the progress that has been made, it can still be difficult for queer people, especially young ones, to come out of the closet.

Simon, played by Nick Robinson, reads an anonymous post online from someone at his school who is also in the closet. Calling him Blue, he begins a pen-pal writing relationship with this person. (Simon takes the name Jacques.) The two share similar experiences, but don't reveal their identities. Who is Blue? Simon begins to guess. At first, he thinks it's a classmate named Bram (Keiynan Lonsdale), then he thinks it's the waiter at the local Waffle House whom he flirts with. Then he thinks it's another guy, and soon he really starts to feel frustrated. But those are pretty low stakes. What really turns Simon's world upside down is that he forgot to log out of his Gmail account at the school library, and another student, Martin (Logan Miller), hops on the computer, finds the correspondences, and starts to use them to blackmail Simon. (Teenagers can be cruel, but not this cruel, right?) Martin really wants to date a friend of Simon's named Abby (Alexandra Shipp), a new girl at the school. Abby is not interested in Martin, but this will not stop him from applying desperate and cruel measures to get there. Simon feels he has no choice but to comply. Despite his friend Nick (Jorge Lendeborg, Jr.) having feelings for Abby, Simon tries to sabotage that by hooking him up with Simon's best friend, Leah (Katherine Langford). This will theoretically help Martin get with Abby. Things start to get very complicated.

The screenplay by Isaac Aptaker and Elizabeth Berger is decent, although the dialogue is often painfully annoying; no family talks to each other like that, with plans of a TV night. The movie is John Hughes in tone, but not in script. Principals and vice principals can be annoying (to students and teachers both), but none act as ridiculously as the one played by Tony Hale, who turns the character into the Jar Jar Binks of teen comedies, and it's a Razzie-worthy performance. No educator would talk to their students about Tinder dates. He literally ruins scenes.

There is so much to like in Love, Simon, and yet there is also so much to hate. I really, really enjoyed Simon's journey and his story, but a lot of other parts genuinely hurt this movie. Mainly the adults, who overact and have stupid moment after stupid moment, particularly the vice principal and the drama teacher. This, plus the jokes which frequently fall flat, is what prevents Love, Simon from being a great film. That being said, the one veteran actor who is a joy to watch is Jennifer Garner as Simon's mother. She has warmth, empathy, and humanity in her that reminded me a lot of her performance in Juno from a decade ago.

Most of the movie is adequate. There's a clever sequence in which Simon images what it would be like if situations were reversed, if straight kids were the ones who would have "a secret" and would have to come out to their parents. And Love, Simon genuinely gets better as it goes, with a few powerful scenes sprinkled around in the final half-hour.

This movie channels all the mixed feelings many will have about their high school days (hopefully more of the good than the bad), and beyond that, I think it's not an exaggeration to say that this movie could change lives. Robinson's young brother came out while he was making this movie, as did Lonsdale at the cast party. If there had been a movie that championed queer youth as much as this movie does, perhaps more would have come out in previous decades.

See Love, Simon. Give it some time and try to get past the shaky first third. Reflect on it. Celebrate the novelty of it, the conventionality of it, and the joy of it.

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