Alex Strangelove (2018)

Alex Strangelove takes the well-worn teen sex-comedy setup and flips it into something rarer: a genuinely tender, laugh-out-loud sweet story about the confusing, exhilarating moment when you realize you might not be who you’ve been performing as. Craig Johnson keeps the vibe buoyant and party-bright, but he never treats Alex’s self-discovery as a punchline—Daniel Doheny gives him an endearing, anxious sincerity, while Madeline Weinstein and Antonio Marziale bring surprising warmth and electricity to the emotional push-pull. It’s progressive without feeling like a lecture, and kind without turning syrupy, finding humor in the awkwardness and dignity in the vulnerability. Fair warning: it’s candid about teen sex, drinking, and crude language, but if you can meet it on that wavelength, it’s the sort of comedy-drama that leaves you smiling and a little more hopeful.

Alex Strangelove wants to be a sweet, accessible coming-out rom-com that uses familiar teen-movie beats to make self-discovery feel less scary, and it mostly succeeds at being easy to watch. The catch is it leans hard on formula and broad comedy, so the emotional turns can feel a bit lightweight and occasionally “precious,” like it’s checking boxes rather than digging deep. If you’re hoping for crackling chemistry and a more nuanced, less stereotyped take on queer awakening, you may find it frustratingly safe and a little thin. Still, the cast is likable, the tone is upbeat, and it can be a comforting pick if you want something gentle, funny, and not too heavy.