Maggie is an awkward, melancholy thirteen-year-old girl whose family has just moved to a new town in Ontario in the middle of 1997. There she will face those universal moments of young life: middle school bullies, teenage insecurity and self-loathing, her first true friendship, and falling in love for the first time.
But her perceptions are far different than most people's. She lives in her own world of color, experiencing sounds and moods and people's energies as bright rainbows, gentle glowing, and gloomy clouds in her mirror. She's never heard of synesthesia and doesn't want anyone to know what she's seeing and feeling; there's enough scorn and absurdity around her without the humiliation of just how "weird" she is.
Nicola Rose has made a wonderfully gentle new kind of tale about growing up, with all its anguish and discovery literally colored by a remarkable perspective that's rarely talked about. It may not look like a big-budget Hollywood confection, but the production design, camera work, and vfx keep it vibrant. The story takes its time, getting by on real warmth and a great sense of humor from its eccentric characters (especially Colin Mochrie's wonderfully delusional exterminator who keeps barging in). The acting is excellent across the board, with Shayelin Martin a standout as our protagonist. It elicited laughter and tears from the audience in the theater, connecting with children *and* adults who are caught in a cycle of being painfully hard on themselves. Maggie may be confused by what she sees and feels, and even her eventual diagnosis as a synesthete won't make everything happy and easy, but she is coming closer to self-acceptance and appreciating the human connection she's finally found.
The title comes from a nickname bestowed by the young man Maggie's fallen for, an astronomy student who shares her fascination with the passing Hale-Bopp comet. Like the things she perceives and dwells on, it's a mysterious connection that feeds her soul and helps her emerge from the bubble of deep confusion and self-pity. It's a beautiful and kind movie without a trace of cynicism, something families can share and feel good about as they remember their own times of doubt, confusion, connection, and ultimately a new understanding of the strange and wonderful things that make us who we are.
