Review: Revisiting those gay high school years with "First Girl I Loved"

Looking back at 2016, which seems odd given that we’re already well into the 2017 film season, there were many films that were overlooked and went under the radar of the mainstream media – or, at least, the documentary-hungry critics’ review list of The New York Times.  Of particular interest to myself – because, let’s face it, I’m me – is the surprising number of queer films that made ripples last year.  Apart from the fantastic triumph that was Moonlight, several other films emerged with less publicity, equal cinematic value, and elements in narrative that, for better or for worse, differentiated them from the cookie-cutter “coming-of-age” story that pities the queer struggle.  Instead, many of these films addressed the queer experience with the respect and nuance that it deserves, and I recently had the privilege to view one of these with a friend.  Premiered at the 2016 Sundance Film Festival, First Girl I Loved is not so much a coming-of-age story as it is a realization of self, a prologue to the long road that queerness takes, complimented by unique imagery that builds the emotional suspense and frustration that coming out of the closet poses to suburban youth.

How do you come out of the closet when everyone else keeps avoiding the conversation?  This is the question that First Girl I Loved poses, and it evades the answer at every turn of its fragmented narration.  The framing scene of this film is when the main character, Anne (Dylan Gelula), comes out to her best friend, Clifton (Mateo Arias).  Unfortunately, Clifton has a crush on Anne, and lashes out in jealousy.  Throughout the rest of the first half of the film, scenes depict Anne falling for her first crush, Sasha (Brianna Hildebrand).  Afterwards, Clifton proceeds to sabotage the budding romance between the other two, but the subsequent doubts between all three of them leads to unexpected and yet wholly predictable consequences for anyone who has watched a gay film before.

Let’s face it, First Girl I Loved is not a triumph of pride.  It is not an answer to “yes, I’m gay, so what now?”  It is the story of a first love, a first romance, with all its budding sweetness and the haze of a dream, but also with all its downfalls, and its ultimate self-destruction.  Immediately after watching this film, my friend looked me in the eye and said, “I had such high hopes for this one.  Why did it have to come to this?”

There is an avoidance of happy endings in queer romance, and it’s clear why.  First Girl I Loved touches on the standard points of most young adult romance films – insecurity, jealousy, the social demons of high school – but it also doesn’t ignore the fact that it is a queer story.  Yes, it might ignore the fact that bisexuality is a thing, but it doesn’t pretend like being queer doesn’t come with its own obstacles.

My immediate argument to this, as a queer person, is that “Yes, we get it.  Being queer is hard, and not always in the fun way.  Can’t we just have a happy story already?”  Because it’s frustrating, honestly.  Since even before Brokeback Mountain, queer characters have never been allowed a happy ending.  Under the Hayes Code, it was illegal to give us happy endings.  A strong argument could be made for Some Like It Hot, but that film is what largely led to the Code to begin with (and such a travesty too, Marilyn).  But don’t lose hope for First Girl I Loved just yet!

Yes, despite the fact that First Girl I Loved falls into this trope – and not exactly smoothly, either – I believe that it’s still worth a watch.  First of all, you have to appreciate its cinema.  Visually, First Girl I Loved is beautiful, merging the glowing neon of dream sequences and the hazy deep focus that all student films love into a style that is simply youth.  It pulls you into the rebellious psychedelic mindset that Anne lives in, and you find yourself feeling the same rush of dumbstruck love that she sees.  Time passes slowly, and yet in the blink of an eye a month has passed, and before you know it they haven’t kissed but maybe they’re about to and maybe they just–

As I’ve mentioned before, the narrative of First Girl I Loved is not anything new.  But it differentiates itself from the rest of its queer company of 2016 by focusing on the story of first love.  Specifically, it focuses on a first love that does not succeed, and this is not a bad thing by any means.  It takes the same elements of insecurity, jealousy, and loneliness that are seen in every straight romance and lets you know that it’s gay.  It allows these complications to come in a twist up the characters as much as the camera does, confusing you and building tension until its final conclusion.

This film also doesn’t stray away from the hard topics.  The nuances of rape culture and sexual assault are placed front and center for a spectacular scene with Arias.  Writer-director Kerem Sanga walks a careful line, and never once is the victim blamed by the system of power at play.  Instead, the assaulter is questioned, questions himself, and the hard questions are asked.  In this way, the film triumphs.

First Girl I Loved also leaves several questions unanswered.  It has a relatively short runtime of only 91 minutes, and given ten more, maybe we could have fleshed out the relationship between Anne and her mother, or between Sasha and her parents.  This is something the movie never truly addresses: the relationship that queer kids have with their parents through the process of coming out.  Perhaps it’s because we don’t truly appreciate that relationship enough, or maybe because the film didn’t want to focus on it, but nevertheless that relationship shouldn’t be removed from the equation.  So much of the anxiety and fear surrounding the culture of coming out is based on familial reaction; let’s face it, we don’t care what our peers think in the long run.  But us queer kids had to live with our families, for better or for worse, the “worse” being not having a family left after the fact.  While this is brushed upon in one scene in the film, I couldn’t help but hope with all my heart that some final confrontation would come about in the end.

Despite the failed romance, and despite the many flaws the film has in expanding as far as it could, we do receive closure.  In the final scene, the wonderful, iconic Cameron Esposito takes the stage, side swept hair and all.  Even if she hadn’t shown up in small scenes throughout the film, it’s hard to be surprised.  (Pals… it’s a film about teenage lesbians.  If not Cameron Esposito, then who?)

This final scene is what pulls First Girl I Loved away from truly being a coming-of-age story.  Anne finally says the words: “I’m gay.”  Exhale.  Sigh of relief.  No credits yet.  Because these words are finally in the open.  Is there a conclusion?  Not exactly; instead, there is the lingering thought of “what now?”  As I mentioned before, First Girl I Loved never answers this question.  Because the only answer that you get when you’re queer is: keep moving on.  Take this moment of realization, and grow from it to love yourself and love the world around you.  In this way, First Girl I Loved is no longer so much a coming-of-age narrative as it is a self-realization and a prologue of the road to come.

Whether you’re queer and out, or queer and closeted, or if you’re not queer at all and just want to watch a gay film (I mean, come on, who doesn’t?), I would recommend watching First Girl I Loved.  Don’t go into it like my friend and I did (we really just wanted to see THE KISS (and were not disappointed until afterwards)), but keep in mind that it is, first and foremost, a first love story.  Let it take you back to high school, and those years of constant insecurity and vulnerability, of finding self, and let it teach you a little more.  As writer-director Kerem Sanga makes sure to remind us, before we can start to grow, we first must know who we are.