There are a lot of queer coming-of-age movies about how hard coming of age can be when you’re queer – and that’s because, for far too many queer young people, coming of age is a very difficult experience.
Yet as difficult as it may be, imagine how much more so it is for queer kids who are also struggling with other factors that make them a potential target for bullying and social stigma. When your awakening sexuality is complicated by fears and self-esteem issues that can cause you to feel ostracized even by the other queer kids, it’s pretty hard to find a place where you fit in. Unfortunately, there are far fewer movies that address that kind of “double whammy” scenario, and even fewer whose leading characters don’t look like model-perfect “influencers,” complete with chiseled abs, perfect hair, and flawless skin – which makes it all the more welcome when a movie like that actually does come along.
That’s why the arrival on Netflix of “Here the Whole Time” – a Brazilian teen romcom from director Daniel Lieff – feels a bit like a surprise gift.
Its central character – Felipe (Miguel Lallo), a teenager who lives with his single mom Rita (Débora Falabella) – is already out as gay, but that’s not the only reason that his life at school is torturous; as he informs us through his own narration, he’s always been the butt of cruel jokes and public bullying because he’s always been (in his own words) “fat.” He’s teased in the classroom, humiliated in the hallways, and victimized at dodgeball in his gym class; so when his eagerly awaited summer break arrives, he’s looking forward to weeks of freedom in which he never has to interact with anyone except his mother.
His blissful dreams of isolating himself in his room are shattered, however, by a rude awakening in the form of Caio (Diego Lira), a neighbor boy and former childhood friend, whose mother and father have left him to stay with Rita while they are away on a trip. Athletic, handsome, and popular, he’s everything Felipe is not, and despite any previous bond of companionship they may have had, Felipe has no intention of playing the gracious host.
Yet as the days go by, the two boys begin to resuscitate their friendship; rather than being the bully Felipe expects, Caio is mostly respectful and exceedingly polite in trying to negotiate their temporary co-habitation. Forced to spend time together, the two gradually warm to each other, opening the door to a renewed friendship; they begin to “hang out” together, expanding the usually isolated Felipe’s social circle to include Caio’s BFF Beca (Mika Soiero) and her girlfriend Melissa (Bel Moreira) — leading to a revelation that turns his newfound friendly feelings for Caio into something more of a crush.
Is the feeling mutual? Can Felipe set aside his insecurities enough to even find out? We did describe the movie as a “romcom, so you can draw your own conclusions from that, but it’s a wild ride of a story, and half the fun is watching it unfold through each new development, so we won’t give any of those surprises away.
It won’t be a spoiler, however, to discuss the way “Here the Whole Time” undercuts the sentiment of its predictably “sweet” formula with its presentation of Felipe as something of an anti-hero, a strident “rebel with a cause” who disdains and distrusts everyone around him except for his mother and sees his therapy (or at least pretends to) as just an extension of school — complete with the unwanted inconvenience of homework.
He’s also, ironically, something of a bully himself, initially responding to the presence of Caio — who is no happier about their temporary living arrangement than he is — with willful and deliberate contempt, and levying his position as host (or as son of the hostess, at least) to assert his circumstantial power and dominance over an unwanted guest. Of course, we can see all along where it comes from, the habitual offense-as-defense tactic that has helped him survive and gain what little self-confidence he has, but that doesn’t make it any less rude.
Still, we don’t dislike him for it; a lifetime of body-shaming can do that to a person. Besides, it makes the transformation that comes in him — after learning to stand up for others like he stands up for himself, and other valuable life lessons he undergoes along the way — feel much more like an uplift. And if his insecurities win out once in a while (as they do, to dramatic effect, in the film’s penultimate chapters), who can blame him?
Caio, too, is portrayed against expectation. His self-assured swagger, like Felipe’s misanthropic hostility, comes from a young lifetime of self-protective compensation, but it’s just as easy for us to see through, and as the tenderness inside is revealed, he’s a far cry from “popular jock” stereotype that Felipe — and the audience — assume him to be,
It’s the dynamic between these two eminently likable characters that makes the film work, granting each of them their own dovetailing journeys toward self-discovery and allowing the feel-good sentiment of the story to emerge as something authentic, rather than just another trope-driven fantasy.
Much of this is thanks to the two young leads, who fully commit to their roles and strike a winning chemistry that makes us want them both to find their way through the amusing — but no less traumatic — growing pains they experience, both together and apart. They succeed in building an onscreen world in which we can believe, with them, in the possibility of rising above the obstacles thrown in their path, and it leaves us feeling not just uplifted, but maybe even a little joyful.
Kudos also go out to Falabella, whose performance as the quintessential “cool mom” makes her stand out as the film’s adult MVP; likewise, director Leiff handles the material with a superb sense of balance between over-the-top absurdity and quietly joyful moments of truth. In the end, though, it’s screenwriters Ray Tavares and Victor Brandt — adapting from a book by Vitor Martins — that’s truly responsible for crafting a charming coming-of-age story that allows itself to reach for the unlikely happy ending instead of sticking with the tried-and-true bittersweetness that usually arrives to provide an extra dash of unrequited yearning.
Of course, more jaded viewers — especially if they’re adults — might find the overall effect of “Here the Whole Time” less of than convincing. But for most of us — and hopefully it’s target audience, especially — it’s a charming reminder that “coming of age” isn’t just about sex or compromising with disillusionment. More than anything else, it’s about learning to let go of our disappointed assumptions to blossom into the life we truly deserve.
As a refreshingly upbeat entry into a genre that somehow holds a key position in our compromised adult lives, it’s definitely a ride worth taking.
The National LGBT Media Association represents 13 legacy publications in major markets across the country with a collective readership of more than 400K in print and more than 1 million + online. Learn more here: NationalLGBTMediaAssociation.com.
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