Summer of 85 (2020)

Summer of 85 captures that rare, lightning-in-a-bottle feeling of first love—sunlit, reckless, and impossibly intense—then lets you feel how it echoes afterward, like salt on skin. François Ozon paints 1980s Normandy with a dreamy pop warmth that never turns sentimental, anchored by Félix Lefebvre’s searching vulnerability and Benjamin Voisin’s magnetic, hard-to-resist swagger; together they have the kind of chemistry that makes every glance feel like a dare. The film moves with the pulse of a summer you’re sure will last forever, while quietly threading in a sharper understanding of grief, memory, and the stories we tell to survive. It’s not for viewers who want a purely feel-good romance, but if you’re open to something bittersweet, tender, and honest about growing up, it’s a beautiful ride.

Summer of 85 wants to be a sun-drenched, bittersweet memory of first love and first grief, with François Ozon leaning hard into the romantic haze of the 1980s and a teenager narrating his own myth. When it works, the two leads have real spark and the seaside setting gives the story an easy, wistful pull. But the film’s unreliable, back-and-forth structure can feel more murky than emotionally revealing, and the big “fate” beats sometimes land as contrived, like the movie is nudging you toward tragedy rather than earning it. If you’re allergic to coming-of-age tropes, stylized flourishes, or characters making naïve choices because the genre demands it, this may test your patience—even if you can still appreciate its tenderness and mood.