It’s summer, and while other kids are off to camp, away on family vacation, or simply relishing their break from school, 14-year-old Griffin Nafly is holed up in his house trying to produce a full-length play. And this isn’t your average high-school production; Griffin describes it as “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf meets American Beauty.” But while this aging stage diva trapped in a 14-year-old boy’s body struggles to make his suburban surroundings and tween cast live up to his outsized artistic vision, he meets Brad, an aloofly handsome Bushwick performance artist hired by Griffin’s mom to do odd jobs around the house. What follows is an absurdly charming portrait of an unrequited and all-consuming first crush that is equal parts heartfelt and hilarious.
What writer-director Nicholas Colia accomplishes with this screenplay is a rare achievement. The whole thing feels like an inside joke that we are in on. While you may not know many kids like Griffin, his emotional experiences are universal. No matter how far-fetched his story gets, there is a personal quality to it on the page that feels vulnerable, relatable, and beautifully bittersweet.
And it never fails to make Griffin’s painfully awkward experiences laugh-out-loud funny. There are countless memorable lines and moments, perfect both in idea and delivery. Even the character’s costumes and styling feel like a joke unto themselves. There’s a specificity to all of it that makes for good visual gags while also developing character.
None of this would work without the incredible performance of its young lead, Everett Blunck. Like his character, Blunck has the knowing flair of someone far beyond his years. He captures all of Griffin’s greatest and most deeply flawed moments—often one and the same—with impressive ease. As Brad, Owen Teague (You Hurt My Feelings) is almost too believable as the distant, self-serious, and self-centered center of Griffin’s infatuation. The always wonderful Melanie Lynskey (And Then I Go) and the delightful new talent, Abby Ryder Forston (Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret), are also wonderful, although somewhat underused.
But every piece falls into place, and this story about perfectionism, obsession, friendship, first loves, and innocence, somehow manages to make all of its ideas land. And the most poignant point of all comes through its subversion of the typical coming-of-age tropes. Because what ultimately makes Griffin in Summer’s vision so distinct is that it remembers that growing up isn’t always as important as growing into who you already are.