Morrison understands that first love, especially queer first love when you haven’t even admitted it to yourself, is not elegant. It is fumbling, terrifying, and often hilarious. The film earns its tender moments because it refuses to cheat for them. Sweetheart is not a perfect film. The pacing in the middle sags slightly, and the subplot with AJ’s sister feels undercooked. But when it matters—in the quiet looks between AJ and Isla, and the devastating final conversation between AJ and her mother—it lands every emotional punch.
There is a specific, suffocating horror to being a teenager. Now, imagine that horror compounded by realizing you are gay while trapped in a aggressively mundane, seaside caravan park with your dysfunctional family for a week. That is the masterful, uncomfortable, and surprisingly tender territory staked out by Marley Morrison’s debut feature, Sweetheart . Sweetheart
That escape leads her to (a radiant Sophia Di Martino), a bubbly, confident lifeguard working at the local leisure centre. Isla is everything AJ is not: sunny, open, and comfortable in her own skin. Their chemistry is not the explosive fireworks of a blockbuster romance; it is the quiet, terrifying electricity of a shy person realizing they are allowed to want something. The Power of the "Cringe" The film’s greatest strength is its willingness to sit in the awkwardness. The flirtation between AJ and Isla is not smooth. It is filled with stilted sentences, long silences, and moments where AJ says something so bluntly honest that you want to hide behind your hands. One scene involving a shared set of headphones and a nearly-kiss in a dark hallway is so perfectly awkward it feels like a documentary. Morrison understands that first love, especially queer first
A box of tissues and a willingness to remember how much it hurt to grow up. Sweetheart is not a perfect film