Saw The Year My Voice Broke, a coming of age film about the wild girl Freya and her would-be boyfriend Danny. They have a hideout from the world and are both into psychic messaging and ghosts. Danny is in love with Freya but she's only interested in Trevor, the school quarterback, who is fond of practical jokes and giggling. Being a teenage boy and all, Danny pines away and becomes a good friend, although he also steals her panties and continues to kind of awkwardly try to romance her. He's sensitive and writes songs and is beat up at school for writing poetry and is clearly the audience insert.
This being a film for and about Nice Guys, I was all set to point out how selfish Danny is being, skulking around waiting for his moment to capture Freya when she at last turns to him out of boredom or desperation, but in fact he's fairly selfless and kind throughout, even as he's unhappy about Freya's (and even Trevor's) suffering. The small-town villagers come off the worst in this film, spreading innuendo, feigning indignation to cover pure delight at the scandal of a teen having sex.
The ghosts of the past become a major theme, Freya's parentage colouring the town's image of her. The kids imagine themselves to be haunted by spirits, but they are actually haunted by the lives of their parents' generation. The rumours of the town are borne of bitterness directed at people who are now long-dead, who the kids have the misfortune to be related to. Atop all of this, though, is a teen romance and angst-fest which I enjoyed immensely. All of their hyperbolic statements, their poses they strike. It's a really sweet film with interesting themes peaking up just above the surface.
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