Riley

This movie started very slowly and was immediately clockable as super tropey. The actors do a good job but they're not believable high schoolers in the slightest. Cinematography was good, but the shots did feel a bit stale. It felt very heartstoppery but without the cute music, animation, and casting. The dialogue also felt a bit out of touch, but the storyline was ok once you get over already knowing what'll happen (pattern recognition). The ending is what I have the most problems with, felt completely unfinished. The first hour was soooo long and the ending so rushed. I'm not asking for another RW&RB but the plot leaves a lot up to question. I think this could have been a great movie but it's just ok.

Jake Holley and Connor Storrie provide great performances and carry the film through some basic high school dialogue for the first half, but the heavier drama in the last 30 minutes really makes them stand out. Connor Storrie has amazing nuances to his performance and manages to find a character that doesn't fit any stereotype. While the ending was a great choice, I actually wanted more of the heavy lifting to continue.

Riley is a striking and emotionally honest film that captures the quiet intensity of adolescent self-discovery against the backdrop of small-town high school football. Centered on Dakota, a young queer athlete navigating the inner turmoil of identity, expectation, and masculinity, the film is a raw, thoughtfully crafted coming-of-age story that resonates far beyond its central theme.

Director Benjamin Howard delivers a restrained but powerful vision, with cinematography that mirrors Dakota's emotional landscape. A subdued color palette and well-executed video cuts evoke the weight of unspoken conflict, keeping the viewer closely tethered to the characters' emotional worlds. This visual language never distracts-it enhances, lending an authenticity that feels both personal and universal.

What sets Riley apart is its refusal to simplify the complexity of queer identity within hypermasculine spaces. Dakota's journey is at once deeply personal and quietly political. The film not only chronicles his internal struggle but also explores how his teammates, peers, and coaches wrestle with their own ingrained assumptions about masculinity, sexuality, and vulnerability. This shared discomfort-awkward, tender, sometimes brutal-gives the film its emotional charge.

Performances across the board are understated and affecting, with Dakota's portrayal offering a compelling mix of restraint and emotional depth. The ensemble cast, particularly the young men around him, bring nuance to roles that might otherwise fall into stereotype. Instead, Riley presents a spectrum of responses to difference-ranging from quiet acceptance to confusion, shame, and eventual growth.

While queer audiences will find much to identify with in Dakota's story, Riley speaks to a broader truth about adolescence, identity, and the longing to be seen. It's a film that will resonate not only with queer viewers but with anyone who has carried the weight of expectation during the formative, often isolating, years of youth-especially those shaped by the pressures of competitive sports.

Verdict: Riley is a beautifully rendered, emotionally resonant portrait of identity and resilience. With sensitivity and strength, it sheds light on the silent struggles behind the facades of toughness and conformity. A must-watch for anyone who's ever felt caught between who they are and who the world expects them to be.

Riley (2025) is a coming-of-age drama that sets out to explore identity, confusion, and emotional isolation through the lens of a high school football star hiding a deeply personal secret. On paper, it's a compelling setup: the pressure of masculinity in sports colliding with the fear of self-discovery. While the film carries real emotional weight and moments of sincerity, it ultimately feels rushed and uneven, struggling to give its heavy themes the space and care they deserve.

At the center of the story is Riley, a talented athlete who finds himself overwhelmed by feelings he doesn't fully understand, particularly toward his quarterback friend. Their connection is portrayed with tenderness, and the awkwardness of their pivotal moment together feels honest rather than sensationalized. It's one of the film's stronger elements, showing two young people trying to make sense of emotions neither is prepared to face. Unfortunately, the film moves past this turning point too quickly, missing an opportunity to dig deeper into the fallout and emotional complexity of that realization.

Where Riley becomes more troubling is in its handling of Riley's exploration through the Grindr app. The narrative choice to place a confused minor in situations with older men is deeply uncomfortable, and while the film may be aiming to highlight vulnerability and danger, it skirts too close to exploitation. Even with older actors involved, the implications are hard to ignore, and these scenes feel more jarring than illuminating. The subject matter demands sensitivity that the film doesn't always provide.

The subplot involving Riley's girlfriend and his interactions with Liam, an openly LGBT character, further complicates the story. Liam's pressure on Riley, despite knowing his uncertainty, leads to a violation of boundaries that the film portrays as deeply damaging. The assault and its aftermath are among the most emotionally charged moments in the movie, showing Riley grappling with misplaced guilt and shame. It's powerful in intent, but again, the film rushes through the consequences, leaving the impact feeling underexplored.

One of the more interesting choices is the casting of Riley himself. Instead of the typical polished heartthrob often used for roles like this, the actor has a more unconventional presence. This adds realism and challenges stereotypes about who gets to be the "star athlete." While some of his expressions can feel intense or unsettling, his performance is committed and raw, helping ground the film even when the script stumbles.

In the end, Riley is a film with strong intentions and moments of genuine emotion, but it's weighed down by pacing issues and risky narrative choices that aren't always handled with the care they require. It wants to tackle complex themes of identity, pressure, and vulnerability, yet often moves too fast to let those ideas fully resonate. It's a watchable and sometimes thought-provoking film, especially for viewers interested in stories about self-discovery, but it's also a flawed one-more impactful in concept than in execution.

AN EXPLOSIVE AND EMOTIONAL TEENAGE JOURNEY OF SELF-DISCOVERY, BEHIND CLOSED DOORS.

If you've seen other reviews I've done here, you'll know I like these kinds of films: complex, raw, tough, stark, and sometimes bitter. This is one of them, in its own way.

We have the typical plot of a teenager struggling between fake and real love, between what he hypocritically likes and what truly fascinates him. This has been explored several times in independent and Hollywood cinema, but here there's an interesting twist: the fact that this film is based on the real-life experiences of its director, Benjamin Howard. This gives it a special characteristic, an auteur touch, because almost always when a filmmaker bases a work on their own life, they will do so from their own perspective, simply personal.

Jake Holley steals the show with his pristine performance. Why? Because taking on this role is no easy task. Regardless of his orientation, it's complicated to play a boy with insecurities and an environment that doesn't help his self-image. Doing this is a Herculean task, especially the way he did it. It's simply sublime! The other actors play their roles perfectly. I didn't see the typical exaggerations of this kind of plot or an explosion of stereotypes to the point of exhaustion. And that's a good thing, because nowadays this is abundant in Hollywood, and independent cinema has unfortunately tried this approach, poorly and with disastrous results.

In Benjamin Howard's directorial debut, he wanted to do things in an unconventional way. I think few filmmakers in the world would make their debut a story based on their own experiences. This is usually done when you already have some experience, making this film a turning point. Although not everything is perfect.

The film's weaknesses lie precisely in its timeline; it doesn't delve into the protagonist's underlying problems or the reasons behind his behavior. It merely shows his reactions and the occasional display of sentimentality, resulting in moving but ultimately superficial scenes. I'm unsure if this was intentional or a mistake in the script.

The film could have gone deeper, as I felt somewhat lost in several sequences. In fact, I even considered omitting unnecessary scenes, but the director's insistence on including them all seems evident. It's as if he wants to establish this film as his future cinematic signature.

This film is one of the few I would recommend to any audience, especially those unfamiliar with the director's intentions and ambitions. Because it shows a human and subtly sensitive side of the internal struggle many young people face on their path to authentic self-worth. In fact, the ending summarizes this, and ultimately, one decides their own destiny, for better or for worse. This film portrayed it quite well, despite the typical cinematic errors of novice directors.

In short, a good film for visualizing modern realities. While the film is possibly set in the 90s (the post-credits scene seems to suggest this) and the cinematography is modern and wonderful, it remains a contemporary film, as everything addressed here is relevant today. It's perfect for making you reflect on those long nights when sleep doesn't come early. Recommended.

The title of my review is taken from the song "Que Sabe Nadie" by Gabino Pampini/Raphael.