Milla (Eliza Scanlen) is a precocious teenage girl who has struggled to fit in most of her life, always being something of an outsider. She has been quietly battling cancer for a while and has recently relapsed, making the need for an even more aggressive form of treatment to take over her life. This causes even more strain between Milla and her over-protective parents, psychiatrist Henry (Ben Mendelsohn), and Anna (Essie Davis), a former piano prodigy who has not abandoned all of her ambitions in an effort to be the best mother and wife she can possibly be, which proves to be an even greater challenge when she finds herself struggling to connect with either of them. Prior to her relapse, Milla comes into contact with Moses (Toby Wallace), a much older drug dealer who enters into her life at a particularly opportune moment, being the embodiment of the precise brand of chaos she needs to give her banal suburban life some meaning. Moses, who has been exiled from his family and is essentially homeless, initially takes advantage of the girl, and her health problems presents him with the opportunity to always have access to some of the strongest medication on the market. Milla is oblivious to this fact at first, seeing the attention she’s receiving from him as being something much more than what it actually is. She is misled into believing that Moses truly cares for her, rather than taking advantage – and when she discovers there are ulterior motives to his actions, along with the growing marital tensions between her parents, she begins to question whether it’s worth even going through with this battle – after all, giving up isn’t necessarily a bad idea in the head of a young woman whose life is about to end before it’s even begun.

Babyteeth is an odd curio of a film. It joins a small but perpetually active sub-genre of coming-of-age films that have been revived in the last few years and is pretty much aligned to many of their conventions, albeit only on a superficial level. Shannon Murphy, in her directorial debut, puts together quite an endearing work of darkly comical tragedy, drawing inspiration from a recent play that is brought to life with this vivid, melancholy tapestry of the human condition that manages to be very funny, while breaking our hearts at the exact same time. Murphy, in constructing this film, takes on a set of very intimidating themes that aren’t normally found in the run-of-the-mill coming-of-age films that have tended to become incredibly popular as generation-defining masterpieces and explores a darker side of young adulthood with a kind of stark authenticity that immediately sets Babyteeth apart from many other films, precisely when considering how it deviates from expectations in quite significant ways, without becoming derailed by the bold approach taken to these daunting ideas. It’s not an easy film in any way, despite how it takes on the appearance of being an endearing, light-hearted affair: this is a brilliant film, but it could not be further from the breezy, charming work of offbeat, twee comedy it seems to be on the surface – and rather than misleading us into believing this film was something else, Murphy instead demonstrates an incredibly complex understanding of the boundaries between different genres, working within their confines with relative ease and finding a way to subvert all expectations and render Babyteeth as one of the most singularly unforgettable works of the cinematic year so far, and a film that carries much more meaning than any of us could have ever imagined when first venturing into the film.

What is most interesting about Babyteeth is how it isn’t abiding by many of the most sacred rules of the coming-of-age sub-genre, or indeed of any kind of conventions. This is the kind of film that rewards viewers who are willing to work through a bewildering first act, which isn’t something that many films manage to achieve without becoming self-indulgent or unbearable. In all honesty, Babyteeth starts as an insufferable jumble of poor ideas, appearing to be a vague attempt to direct a Wes Anderson film through the guise of Yorgos Lanthimos, in how Murphy blends the twee with the awkward. However, this seems to be entirely by design – the film intends to alienate the viewer in these crucial formative moments, launching us directly into the lives of these characters in such a way that we are challenged to endure their more unsettling idiosyncracies while not making our minds up about them too soon. As a character-driven drama, the film depends on the audience’s relationship with these characters, so there is some merit in presenting them to us in such a way that we’re not instantly captivated by them, but rather called to look beneath their more unlikable veneers. The film does well in exploring them as multifaceted characters, becoming a slow-burning, deeply sentimental portrayal of the trials and tribulations of an ordinary family, and where the audience gains further insights into these characters as the film unravels and the message becomes clearer. It’s a strange approach, but it’s one that truly does work in the context of this film.

In constructing the characters, Murphy does really well with the cast. Eliza Scanlen, who has been making something of a name for herself in supporting roles in a variety of films and television projects, is positioned at the centre of this film, playing the character of Milla, an aimless young woman who falls for a young man who she realizes is not a good influence, but cannot resist, since the blend of her need for attention and his willingness to give it to her (albeit with the expected caveats) making her inability to refuse even stronger. This is a star-making performance for Scanlen, as it gives the young actress a chance to lead a film that focuses almost entirely on her journey, and a great deal of interesting material to work with. In exchange, Scanlen finds a sense of reality in this character, distancing her from the wise-cracking, all-knowing teenager that we normally tend to find lead these kinds of films. Milla has no discernible merits as a person – she’s not particularly talented outside of her prowess for the violin (which she abhors), and she often defined by her insecurities and reserved nature. This gives Scanlen the chance to work from a very interesting set of traits, portraying Milla as someone who makes an impact without even realizing it, both in terms of her relationship with the other characters in the film, and with the audience, who watch her journey with bated breath, not ever sure where it’s going to lead. Should this film become the sensation it deserves to be, it’s difficult to not see Scanlen becoming one of her generation’s most interesting actresses. She demonstrates promise and grounded charm that makes her performance here all the more authentic, and in a cinematic landscape that often builds itself around larger-than-life personalities, Scanlen’s more humble sensibilities are a breath of fresh air.

This isn’t to undermine the work the rest of the cast is doing. In particular, Essie Davis and Ben Mendelsohn are proving their mettle as some of the most reliable performers working today, playing the role of conflicted parents. In the coming-of-age genre, these roles aren’t normally all that interesting – portrayed either as comic relief or as obstacles, parental figures rarely do much other than becoming plot devices in even the finest entries into the genre. Babyteeth removes this stigma and instead gives nuance to these characters, which is only bolstered by the powerful performances the actors are providing. Mendelsohn, taking a break from playing despicable characters, is able to tap into an inner empathy that we don’t often see from him, with Henry being constructed as a man yearning for something better while being singularly unable to make such a major change to his life. This is mirrored in Davis’ performance as his equally-stifled wife, who compensates for the realization that she’s in an unhappy marriage by taking copious amounts of prescription drugs, as a means to distract herself from the reality she’s presented with. The film centres on Milla, but it’s often her relationship with her parents that takes up the emotional core of the film – Babyteeth is certainly not a film that is lacking in resonance, and while it is often very funny, it is most moving when the film calibrates to focus on the parents, showing that Milla is not the only one struggling. It’s almost a marvel at how this cast is able to put together such compelling characters while being initially presented to us as deplorable, uncompromisingly twisted characters who are weighed down by their flaws – and there’s certainly not any miracle that changes their behaviour, but rather a seismic shift in how the film positions them. They’re not just erratic, flawed individuals without reasons, but rather conflicted people who have arrived at this metaphysical juncture for a reason. The cast truly embodies these characters, and there’s very little doubt these are some of the finest performances of the year so far.

Babyteeth is a film that thrives on subverting our expectations. It isn’t a particularly complex work in theory, and it is consistent in relaying a very simple story about a young woman trying to reconcile her own journey towards maturity with the realization that she might not even get there. What Murphy does so well with this side of the story is taking us on a metaphysical journey into the lives of these characters were are preparing for tragedy – there have been so many films that look at the aftermath of a loss, but not as many that look so directly at the process of preparing for it. Babyteeth comes from a place of extreme sincerity, almost to the point where it is too difficult to watch – the final act is one moment of heartbreaking poignancy after another, a series of scenes that all add up to a shattering final scene, where every aspect of the film, both its moments of joy and its explorations of the more downbeat side of human nature, converge into one of the most agonizing scenes in recent memory. The most significant problem in the early parts of this film was that it seemed indecisive – it couldn’t choose what it wanted to be and appeared to be weighed down by this inability to abide by conventions. It’s only much later when we realize there’s something more here – this is a film about broken people, so to expect the story around them to be without flaws or jagged edges is misguided. The imperfections throughout the film seem to be placed there intentionally, with every outburst, moment of awkwardness or flippant, insidious anger being purposeful. This is a film that only comes into its own towards the end, where everything starts to make sense – by that point, regardless of whether the viewer is still invested in the story, we’re struck with a sense of something very close to total awe.

It’s difficult to describe exactly what Babyteeth does, because so much of its successes reside in what is unspoken. The film may be bewildering at the outset, normally through its almost total disregard for even the most fundamental principles of coming-of-age storytelling, but gradually finds its groove, becoming an exceptionally compelling film that traverses the boundary between darkly comical and tragic. Grounded by an incredible performance by Eliza Scanlen and a fantastic supporting cast, and made with a sense of both immense empathy and subversive humour, the film is a masterful exercise in slow-burning drama, a quiet but resilient tale of survival, both of the body and of the mind. It’s not the easiest film to watch, and it can occasionally tend towards becoming quite overwrought, but the achingly beautiful soul of the film is enough to compensate for these minor shortcomings, especially when it’s clear that there is more going on here than meets the eye at first. Babyteeth isn’t going to be a film that will work for everyone – it doesn’t purport to the idea of being accessible or endearing, and will therefore mostly appeal to those who are willing to be put through the emotional wringer with this film, gladly volunteering themselves to experience a plethora of uncomfortable emotions, which doesn’t sound particularly good for a film like this but is made all the more worthwhile when the revelatory message is conveyed after experiencing this rough, raggedy exploration of the human condition. Heartwarming and shattering in equal measure, I haven’t quite decided where I stand on Babyteeth, but one thing I am certain about is that Murphy made something extraordinarily special, and singularly unforgettable.