Each one of us is on our journey, but some experiences are universally considered to be formative moments in our lives. Everyone remembers their first relationship since it teaches us not only about ourselves but also gives insights into one of the most beautiful experiences, which is the process of simply falling in love with another person. However, nothing lasts forever, and some may argue that the end of one’s first relationship is even more important since it determines our resilience and strength, which is sometimes more important than fawning over someone with whom we were not likely to spend the rest of our lives. This subject is the impetus for Sweethearts, the directorial debut of Jordan Weiss, who crafts a delightfully demented story centring around Ben and Jamie, two best friends in college who are both currently in long-term relationships with their high school sweethearts, who are still their hometown of working-class Ohio while our protagonists are studying out of state. Realizing that they both are being stifled by loveless partnerships in which there is very little spark, they decide to simultaneously end their relationships, which coincides with their return home for Thanksgiving. However, complications arise almost immediately, and both Ben and Jamie realize that ending a relationship is not quite as easy as they had initially thought, especially when it becomes clear that there is a lot more beneath the surface than their supposedly platonic friendship may suggest. A relatively conventional twist on the traditional romantic comedy formula, crafted by someone whose cynicism with the genre has manifested in this delightfully deranged subversion of familiar tropes, Sweethearts is a rollicking, entertaining romp through the holidays, as seen through the eyes of a pair of endlessly likeable protagonists who find themselves challenged beyond all comprehension around something as seemingly simple as ending a relationship, which proves to be a far more unnerving endeavour, leading to a film that is as hilarious as it is provocative in both form and content.

Romantic comedies in all forms are a dime a dozen, especially since they have been proven to be evergreen in popularity, and consumed by a wide portion of the audience. Efforts have been made to cast a much wider thematic net, in the hopes of drawing in those who may not necessarily be considered the target audience for these films but manage to be charmed by some of the more unorthodox efforts that we find from time to time. Sweetheart is a film that markets itself as an anti-romantic comedy since it is centred around two characters deciding to break up with their respective partners in favour of being liberated from a stifling, uncomfortable relationship and instead aiming to embrace a more laissez-faire approach to their romantic endeavours, which entails much less love and far more promiscuity. This is not the romantic comedy that is built around innocent, twee depictions of young love, but instead a more raw, visceral approach to sexual identity and the role it plays in defining many modern relationships. Weiss is insistent on not avoiding the more provocative commentary, since not only does it reflect this current generation with a lot more sincerity, but it also lends the film a sense of authenticity in how it explores what dating is like for the younger generation, who are starting to feel much more incredulous towards long-term relationships. To be clear, no one involved in this film seems to be saying that what they are doing should be seen as an effort to draw a line in the sand by being a definitive text on the subject matter, but also showing that it is fully aware of the cultural zeitgeist, rather than aiming to present an idealistic vision of contemporary romance. However, this turns out to be only one component of the film, since Sweethearts eventually reveals itself to be much deeper, particularly in how it is essentially an exploration of a lifelong friendship undergoing some awkward but essential changes, as well as an examination of identity and how we gradually learn about ourselves through embracing the unexpected challenges we encounter in daily life, and the person we are meant to become is not necessarily the one we are at the present moment.

To bring these characters to life, Weiss had to find actors who could convincingly play these awkward, slightly off-kilter individuals without being too intensely strange, as well as actors who possessed natural chemistry, enough to convey the feeling that these are lifelong friends who find themselves in quite a precarious position. The choices ended up being Kiernan Shipka (who has already amassed a very impressive body of work in both film and television), and Nico Hiraga, both of whom take on these wonderfully eccentric roles with such fervent dedication and attention to detail, bewildering to realize that they are actors playing fictional parts, rather than real friends. They’re drawn from the most obvious archetypes, but they’re elevated through the wonderful work being done by the actors, who are entirely committed to crafting memorable, complex protagonists, even despite the more limited subject matter. Needless to say, both have great chemistry and deliver captivating lead performances, with Hiraga, in particular, being the standout, showing that even in one of his first lead roles, he can convey such a unique charm that will stand him in good stead as he continues to raise his profile in the industry. Surprisingly, the heart of the film isn’t either of the two leads, but rather Caleb Hearon, who has amassed a cult following on social media through his irreverent sense of humour and interminably cheerful personality that is the perfect combination of old-fashioned showmanship and Gen Z nihilism, which makes him an effortlessly captivating screen presence. There is a subplot involving his efforts to reveal his sexuality to the residents of his small town that eclipses the main narrative in many ways since it contains some of the most powerful and raw commentary on identity we’ve seen in years – and while most of it is played for laughs, there is a tenderness to his performance that stands as the highlight of the entire film. The entire cast (which mostly consists of younger actors) is uniformly terrific and works well to create the atmosphere of a group of young people gathering to figure out their paths in life, something that will be familiar to any of us who ever faced such harsh existential quandaries at any point in our lives.

Everything that makes Sweethearts so compelling comes from Weiss’ ardent efforts to curate something that is far more nuanced than simply a one-dimensional romantic comedy, and even at its most cynical we find that the film is taking some interesting risks throughout. Part of this comes in how she actively refuses to play into the genre tropes in a way that is inauthentic or pandering, and instead chooses to go in several different directions, many of which prove to be much more complex than we would initially imagine. There’s something so wonderfully endearing about how the film handles these themes, almost coming across as wholeheartedly natural, which is surprising for a genre that isn’t always known for its earnestness. The emotions are the primary element that is under scrutiny – we follow these characters as they attempt to navigate their complex feelings, but rather than allowing itself to lean into the heavy-handed conventions that usually dictate the genre, the director instead chooses to cobble together something that feels honest and poetic, while also being outrageously funny. It is rarely overwrought, and the moments where it allows itself to be more sentimental resound with a lot more honesty. It also helps that the structure of the film doesn’t lend itself to too much meandering – it mostly takes place in a single day, which allows Weiss to employ the tried-and-tested technique of the “one crazy night” structure, where the characters are perpetually on the move, having to find solutions for the bewildering obstacles that they encounter along the way, all the while attempting to understand the various challenges that have been presented to them. It’s a bitingly funny approach, and one that is well-suited to the material, which benefits from such an unorthodox approach for the most part, finding the nuances where we would least expect them to be, and yet still making them seem wholeheartedly captivating in both style and structure.

Sweethearts are certainly nothing we haven’t seen before, and some may look at it as quite a limited, one-dimensional romantic comedy that tries to be quirky and offbeat, when in reality it does tend to follow many of the same conventions, at least on the surface. However, this is the kind of film that rewards those who are willing to suspend disbelief and simply embrace the off-the-wall madness that inspired most of this story, much of which doesn’t necessarily make sense, nor does it ever have to be drawn from a place of logic. Instead, it’s a film that takes a devil-may-care approach to its subject matter, crafting a compelling story of friendship and identity in the modern era, showing us how a happy ending does not necessarily mean that the prince rescues the damsel in distress and sweeps her off her feet, but rather than it is sometimes merely just a strong, meaningful friendship built on mutual respect, shared interests and a sense of psychological intimacy that is often more meaningful than any visceral cravings that usually are mistaken for romantic feelings. It’s hardly a revolutionary film, but it offers us exactly what it promises at the outset, which is more than enough to make the 90 minutes we spend with the film worth our while, with an abundance of genuinely compelling moments that keep us enthralled and engaged. Everyone involved in Sweethearts has a bright future ahead of them – the comedic timing is perfect, the charm is effortless and the overall dedication is admirable, all of which are the primary reasons this film is such a delightful triumph, and one of the more endearing romantic comedies of the past few years.