by Cain Noble-Davies
Worth: $15.00
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Liam Mollica, Luke J. Morgan, Mia Barrett, Elias Anton
Intro:
… eye-catching and wonderfully performed …
Sunflower starts with a stark juxtaposition. Liam Mollica’s Leo in a field of sunflowers, looking every bit like the cover of an airport romance novel, cutting suddenly to a violent gay bashing in the middle of a concrete schoolyard. It sets up gay coming-of-age as both revelatory bliss and brutal opposition, especially as set in the Lynx-scented atmosphere of a Melbourne high school.
Writer/director Gabriel Carrubba, making his feature debut, taps into the national pedigree for unvarnished and honest depictions of teen sexuality through works like Puberty Blues to present Aussie teens that are so recognisable, they’re almost warm to begin with. There’s tension to spare throughout, from Leo’s restrained attempts at dinner table conversation, to talking shit with the accurately-nicknamed Boof (Luke J. Morgan), to his attempts at romance with Monique (Olivia Fildes). But as captured by the actors and Martine Wolff’s cinematography, it all creates a tangible mood of memory and relatability.
From there, the film flirts with the more tragic side of the sub-genre, as it shows the progress of Leo’s self-actualisation with all the social barriers and eventual animosity intact, but manages to do it better than similar works like Lukas Dhont’s Close. It doesn’t come across as sanctimonious or exploitative, allowing the more brutal moments to register as emotionally genuine rather than the wrong kind of stomach-churning. As Leo comes to terms with his own desires, and finds those who can reciprocate (after some unfortunate attempts to find so… elsewhere, let’s say), the feeling of liberation that blossoms allows the film to emphasise the joy of discovery over the pain of isolation and emotional retreat.
Narratively, Sunflower follows a familiar framework for a coming-of-age story, even outside of sexual specifics, but that itself ends up working in the film’s favour. In an environment where any potential showing of non-straight performance risks chiding and even violence, the notion that the experience itself isn’t unique can be a great source of comfort; it’s part of the necessity for cinematic stories such as this in the first place, even today. More than that, it acknowledges what drives even the worst of reactions to what Leo eventually admits about himself, allowing everyone to avoid becoming caricatures while still highlighting the horror of their actions. It grounds everything in reality and normality, both for better and for worse.
Sunflower is a forthright portrait of a teenager embracing his homosexuality, taking familiar plot progressions and a somewhat basic visual metaphor and spinning them into an eye-catching and wonderfully performed pat on the back for those with memories of similar trials. While the thought of films such as this helping buds to find the space to bloom is quite sentimental, the effort put into creating such a space within this production is highly commendable.