Sublime

There’s a dilemma which many people face even as adults when developing a crush on somebody in a context not directly associated with dating. Popular wisdom says that it’s a good idea to get to know that person a bit better before making a move, but if one does that, and a real friendship develops, how does one then make a move without creating the potentially creepy impression that one has been hiding an ulterior motive, and potentially threatening the friendship? Most of us get better at managing such situations over time, but it;s much harder when one is a teenager and inexperienced with such feelings in general, especially if the object of one’s desire is a longstanding best friend.

16-year-old Manuel (known as Manu and played by the superb Martín Miller) has known Felipe (Teo Inama Chiabrando) since they were tiny children. Living in a small, coastal Argentinean community, they go to school together and play together in a band; their lives seem inextricably interwoven. They are both dating girls and there is a general feeling that Manu’s relationship with Azul (Azul Mazzeo) has reached the point where it’s time for them to have sex. This is an important social rite of passage, and Felipe encourages it, offering Manu the use of the abandoned van out in the woods which is his own personal love nest. Azul seems amenable to it, so why does Manu himself feel so awkward?

The rollercoaster emotions of adolescence are perfectly captured in Mariano Biasin’s light and lyrical film, which was one of the highlights of 2022’s festival fare. Manu’s developing feelings for Felipe aren’t just intense and inconvenient – they’re also puzzling. It takes him a while to get to grips with what’s happening before he can even think about acting on them. He’s not especially verbally articulate, any more than most boys his age, so we get access to his feelings through his facial expressions, body language and music. As the lyricist for the band, he’s struggling with writer’s block, but the melodies themselves come easily and help to express what words can’t.

Miller, who worked with the director on a previous short, shines in the central role, allowing the audience to see and understand what’s happening to Manu even before he does. When the truth of it is eventually voiced, it will come from an unexpected place. The film is not prescriptive about sexuality and we don’t get the sense that Manu will only be attracted to boys from now on, just that he’s overwhelmed by his attraction to this particular boy, and that’s eclipsing everything else.

Acknowledging that Argentinean society has no yet reached a point where same sex attractions are seen as equivalent to mixed sex ones, Biasin set his film in an imaginary world, or a bubble world created by young people in this particular time, so that he could reflect on what life could be like without prejudice getting in the way. It’s no utopia because people are still complicated, but it allows his characters room to express themselves in a natural way.

What really lights up the film is the chemistry between the boys and their wider circle of friends. The performances are fresh and immediate, everything happening in the moment, yet their social world feels lived-in and real. Things can go wrong very quickly, but the bonds holding them all together are ready to snap back like elastic, with humour and delight at life’s discoveries making togetherness of any kind a pleasure. Older viewers may not quite be on the same page, especially when they’re trying to gross each other out, but there’s no denying that they’re fun to be around.

Can Manu tell Felipe how he feels? Is there any hope of it being reciprocated? If not, can their friendship survive? Manu’s father’s observation that the band’s music is nothing without bass guitar both validates the depth of the boy’s feelings and serves as a reminder that, as King Lear learned, we don’t always know how much we need someone until they’re not there. Openly emotional without being sentimental, Sublime is a pleasure from start to finish, full of lust for life.