“Sweethearts” - MAX Film Review
Can a heterosexual man and a heterosexual woman be just friends? It’s a question that has existed for thousands of years, but perhaps the most famous people to ask it are Harry and Sally. I’m referring to Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal’s characters from the 1989 rom com, When Harry Met Sally. In many ways, Jordan Weiss’ feature directorial debut, Sweethearts, is reminiscent of the 1989 classic, but updated for a Gen Z audience. For almost forty years, When Harry Met Sally has stood as the seminal work of the romantic comedy genre, and while Sweethearts doesn’t fill those massive shoes, it does have a sweetness (pardon the pun) that shouldn’t be ignored.
Photograph by Anthony Platt/Max
Ben (Nico Hiraga) and Jamie (Kiernan Shipka) have been friends since middle school. The two are the epitome of a codependent friendship, so much so that they decide to attend the same college. Their partners, however, are being left behind. Ben’s girlfriend, Claire (Ava DeMary), is in her senior year of high school. She had to repeat first grade, a fact Ben mentions often to make their relationship sound less weird. Jamie’s boyfriend, Simon (Charlie Hall), is at Harvard to play on the football team. Because Ben and Jamie are in long-distance relationships, they feel like they don’t get to experience college. They spend all their time on the phone with their partners and don’t go to parties or make new friends. Ben and Jamie, unable to do anything by themselves, decide that they’ll break up with their partners during Thanksgiving break. Always in the back of their minds is the thought of whether their friendship could, or should, be something more.
As much as Sweethearts owes itself to When Harry Met Sally, it’s more closely related to Booksmart. Both films are about best friends who feel like they’re missing out on the party experience and find themselves on an all-night escapade across their hometown. Like Booksmart, Sweethearts’ side characters threaten to run away with the whole film. In Sweethearts’ case, the main culprit is Caleb Hearon as Palmer, Ben and Jamie’s other best friend. Palmer took a gap year to go to France to “find himself,” but he’s utterly miserable. He spent high school in the closet, though everyone likely knew he was gay, and thought he had to run away to a big city to embrace the identity he’d kept hidden for so long. Palmer throws a petite soiree for his coming out speech that goes off the rails and sends him on his own journey across his hometown that allows him to see that, against all odds, Ohio might have more to offer than France. Hearon is deeply funny, making mountains out of comedic molehills, and reveling in the absurdity of the person who goes to Europe and makes it their entire personality. Hearon’s take on Palmer almost makes one wish it was his journey – through the gay firefighters, gay diner workers, and gay bowling leagues of Ohio – that was Sweethearts’ main focus.
Photograph by Cara Howe/Max
Shipka and Hiraga are more than capable as leads, and their will-they/won’t-they dynamic makes for a charming throughline. Sweethearts is sugary sweet and has moments where it feels like a ’90s rom com, which is the finest compliment a movie can receive. At times, the film wants to find comedy in the raunchiness that comes from the chaos of the college years, when it really should have focused its humorous efforts on the lovely dynamics between the characters. There’s clear chemistry between the three leads, and when Sweethearts puts these three in the same room, it really shines. As it stands now, the film is breezy, but doesn’t linger in the more heartfelt, emotional moments.
Sweethearts may not single-handedly bring back the wave of ’90s romantic comedies, but is close to that essence. The sort of warm, comedic version of hot chocolate, sure to warm the coldest heart on a Thanksgiving night.
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