The Boy Who Could Fly (1986)

The Boy Who Could Fly is that rare ’80s family drama that earns its sense of wonder the hard way: by first sitting with grief, loneliness, and the awkwardness of starting over, then letting a small, impossible-looking friendship crack the world open. Nick Castle directs with a gentle, humane touch, and Lucy Deakins and Jay Underwood give performances that feel unguarded—tender without being cute, emotional without begging for tears. The vibe is half suburban coming-of-age, half modern fairy tale, where moments of everyday hurt and kindness quietly build toward something genuinely uplifting. It does deal with heavy subjects and a few intense scenes, so it’s not a breezy comfort watch, but if you’re in the mood for a warm, original film that believes in people and in the healing power of wonder, it’s easy to fall for.

The Boy Who Could Fly is reaching for a heartfelt, grief-soaked coming-of-age story with a dash of wonder, using Eric’s “maybe-magic” as a catalyst for a hurting family to heal. The problem is it often leans hard on syrupy uplift and emotional button-pushing, and the tone wobbles between grounded drama about neglect and disability and a fantasy payoff that can feel like an escape hatch rather than an earned conclusion. If you’re sensitive to movies that romanticize trauma or use sentiment as a shortcut, this may test your patience, even though it means well. That said, the young cast is earnest, the suburban melancholy is nicely observed, and if you’re in the mood for an ’80s tearjerker that prioritizes feeling over realism, it can still land.