Wyrm (2019)

Wyrm is the kind of indie gem that sneaks up on you: a hilariously oddball, alternative-’90s coming-of-age romance that uses its sci‑fi premise not as a gimmick, but as a painfully relatable metaphor for teenage pressure and longing. Its world is delightfully surreal—electronic collars, dinosaur devotion, cafeteria dread—yet the emotions underneath are sincere and empathetic, capturing the ache of being young and convinced everyone else got the rulebook. The comedy lands because it’s rooted in awkward truth, and the film’s tenderness gives its weirdness real weight, touching on anxiety and grief without ever turning heavy-handed. If you like your romances a little off-kilter and your laughs mixed with genuine heart, Wyrm is easy to root for; if you prefer slicker, more conventional teen stories, its quirky tone may feel like another planet.

Wyrm is aiming for a sweet, offbeat coming-of-age romance in a retro-futuristic ’90s where first kisses are literally institutionalized, and that hook is genuinely inventive. The problem is the movie sometimes can’t decide whether it wants to be awkwardly horny, sincerely melancholic, or straight-up quirky sci-fi satire, and the tones don’t always mesh as smoothly as it hopes. If you need tight pacing and a clean emotional arc, the final stretch may feel like it wobbles right when it should land the point. But if you’re game for a weird little indie with heart, oddball humor, and a tender outsider vibe, it’s still an easy watch.