April (Hannah Marks) and Nick (Dylan Sprouse) are high school sweethearts that have been together for a few years. They share similar interests and seem to possess the same cynical view of the world, which manifests in their abstract sense of humour. However, they soon realize that they simply aren’t made to last forever, and begin to drift apart, leading to a difficult breakup. They both claim to have moved on, but April still harbours some intense feelings towards Nick – and this isn’t made any easier by the arrival of Clara (Liana Liberato), a young, exuberant woman who is new in town, and looking for some friends. April soon realizes that she isn’t simply just a new potential companion, but rather Nick’s current girlfriend, his attempt to fill the void left by the breakup. However, instead of hostility, the two girls strike up a strange friendship – they discover they have very similar interests, particularly when no one else in their age group seems to be interested in this bizarre gallivanting. They resolve to be friends, with the caveat of never letting Nick get in the way, which is easy at first but eventually becomes uncompromisingly difficult when it is made clear that April still feels something for him, and that the feeling may be mutual, which threatens Clara, who begins to question her own place in this unconventional love-triangle. They all start to look deeper into themselves in the hopes of finding some answers but realize that there are some questions that simply don’t have the kind of simple resolution as the ordinary problems they face on a daily basis tend to.

Banana Split belongs to a sub-genre of the subversive teen film that has been perpetually active since the outburst of these charming comedies by John Hughes in the 1980s. They normally range from astonishing, generation-defining masterworks to innocuous, unmemorable but otherwise entertaining comedies that fill a few hours. This film occurs somewhere between these two extremes, being yet another look into the trials and tribulations of the modern youth negotiating their place in the world, filled with intelligent metacommentary on modern life as seen through the eyes of those on the precipice of making the big step towards defining their own future. Benjamin Kasulke, making his directorial debut, puts together a compelling teen comedy that doesn’t take itself too seriously, and hits many familiar beats, but manages to be as quintessentially fascinating as any of the other entries into the genre, through finding the right balance between humour and more serious subject matter, oscillating flawlessly between them in an astoundingly effective way. There are countless laughs packaged throughout this film, which counterbalance the emotional heft that wrangles its way into the story, creating an unexpectedly moving film that appears to be quite cynical at the outset, but flourishes into something truly special by the end of it. Banana Split is not a major work, and it may struggle to remain afloat in a cinematic landscape that has insisted on churning out this brand of darkly comical teen comedy, but for those that are willing to look into this film, its a wonderfully unexpected surprise.

As per convention for films of this style, Banana Split is built on the performances of the protagonists. It’s not particularly feasible to have a film that looks into the ambigious space between friendship and romance without giving the roles to performers who can adequately evoke both the exuberant joy and painful longing that underpin these characters. In this regard, Hannah Marks and Liana Liberato are terrific – both of them have been in the industry for a few years, finding their way through a variety of small projects that showcase their skills, while slowly establishing themselves as immense new talents in their own right, raring to lend their unique voices to a cinematic landscape that is beyond enthusiastic to have such peculiarly brilliant performers. The film gives both of these characters almost equal time on screen (even if April is ultimately the focal point of the film), and builds up their friendship from the moment of their first meeting, which is more poignant than any hackneyed romantic comedy “meet-cute” could ever hope to be. Following the familiar pattern of the genre, Banana Split constructs its two central characters as almost polar opposites – April is a brooding, reserved young woman who feels awkward in any situation that she isn’t familiar with, while Clara is an upbeat, slightly ditzy fish-out-of-water who is making the best of the situation she finds herself in by making use of her natural outgoing charms. However, the film doesn’t spend much time establishing the cliched adage of “opposites attract” – they become friends almost immediately, which may not be all that realistic, but is certainly more refreshing than the majority of films that spend a good portion of their time putting two characters in direct conflict, with the knowledge that they’ll hit it off sooner rather than later.

Looking into the lives of these two young women (framed with the recurring motif of April being about to embark on her college journey on the other side of the country), Banana Split is essentially a film about the follies of youth, and how they tend to reach a crescendo in the latter days of high school, almost as if these characters are holding onto the last bit of youth they have before starting the rest of their lives. The film looks at one of the most interesting aspects of the modern teen comedy, that of characters caught between adolescence and adulthood, an off-shoot of the coming-of-age story that is often more reserved for younger characters. The central issue in Banana Split isn’t necessarily about fearing the future, because its already there, and characters are confronted with it regularly. Rather, it’s about negotiating your place in it, which evokes the theme of identity, another area in which modern entries into this genre have become incredibly interested. This is not a film that holds back in terms of having frank discussions about more serious topics, nor is it one that foregrounds it in any way that feels overwrought or inauthentic, as if the filmmakers were attempting to infuse some lesson into the story. Sexuality is openly discussed but never trivialized – characters talk about their conquests in the same way they would their most recent meal, an approach that benefits the film because it never feels the need to provide any context.

This is ordinary behaviour for the generation the film depicts, and also opens up the possibility for the film to have even more insightful discussions on matters that are more important – there’s an undercurrent of fluidity in how the characters perceive themselves and others, with their preconceived notions of their identity being eroded throughout, never crossing into the realm where the more subversive content that is implied throughout actually manifests (as the film isn’t attempting to be a queer film, but rather one that leaves the possibility open), but rather indicates that these characters haven’t quite found themselves yet and that there is always going to be room for growth, whether emotional, mental or psychological, and that its better to leave it up to fate to decide where you’re heading. Banana Split does very well in being authentic – it may take a more heightened approach from time to time, mainly for comedic effect, but it reigns the absurdity in with great precision, never forcing this film to deviate too far from the more grounded intentions. Kasulke effectively makes a film that appears to be an outrageous comedy at the outset, but gradually dovetails into one of the most impactful stories of the teenage experience, an intrepid series of insights into the minds of these characters as they attempt to navigate a difficult world, and the challenges that lie ahead of them.

Banana Split is an easy film that write off as just being mindless, teen-focused entertainment. It can even be misconstrued as flippant to some serious issues with its more rebellious focus, and its tendency to portray subjects that some may consider taboo in a way that isn’t only positive, but so inconsequential, no one can mistake this film for a cautionary tale in any way. It is a profoundly honest story that has moments of immensely buoyant enthusiasm, and several quiet sequences in which the characters look inward to uncover some deeper truth about their current situation, and their prospectives for the intimidating future that stands before them. Combining a pair of extraordinary performances, a terrific script that makes great use of the platform its given to present us with a thought-provoking story, albeit one that doesn’t necessarily lend itself to overt sentimentality, and a sincerity that works in conjunction with the often crude humour to create something that is presented as an outrageous tale of youthful recklessness, but is quietly a truly sophisticated affair. Banana Split is a wonderfully unique film that should not be overlooked – it may appear to be something we’ve seen before, but there’s something fundamentally different lurking beneath it, a quiet resilience that sets it apart, and makes it such a wonderfully endearing piece that gives the audience something very special to experience, while never taking itself too seriously in the process.