Enzo is a privileged and troubled 16-year-old, who works at a dead-end job as a way of rebelling against his loving and upscale home. It's the kind of angst everyone is familiar with, yet it doesn't make it any less easier to swallow. For much of the runtime, Enzo is a hard character to like.

To others, Enzo (Eloy Pohu), is an odd duck. He's got everything going for him, yet he chooses to make things difficult out of principle. It isn't until late in the story we find out why, and the simplicity hits like a wrecking ball.

During his days at work, Enzo has his eyes on the charismatic, happy-go-lucky Vlad (Maksym Slivinskyi), a Ukrainian immigrant living with his brother. Their initial rapport is shaky, but Enzo persists and wins over Vlad's friendship. It's clear there's a desire for more, and in another life it would probably work out. But Vlad is keenly aware of their age and power difference, so he keeps Enzo at arms length. Naturally, the lovesick youth doesn't understand why.

Meanwhile, Enzo's father (a tremendous Pierfrancesco Favino) wants to understand and help his son, but is unable to see beyond the immediate comforts he's provided for his family. Their bickering turns to hostility, and Enzo runs away from home.

These are all familiar beats from numerous other stories, yet they're no less true despite the fact. Instead, writer/director Robin Campillo (working from a script originated by the late Laurent Cantent) focuses on the unsaid feelings left in the wake of everything we discover about ourselves in this tumultuous time. At 16, everything is the world or nothing, and there is no in-between. Campillo understands that feeling, and he fills the screen with unrequited yearning that is almost suffocating.

Despite this, the ambitiously minimalist script doesn't quite stick the landing. Instead, it feels unresolved in the wrong kind of way. A late inclusion of the war in Ukraine is particularly a sticking point, as the film's themes of power, class, and privilege feel sharply torn by a greater force that is unseen and heard until the very end. It's meant to be sudden and unfair, yet something about the presentation doesn't stick.

Luckily, the film ends on a grace note so simple and touching that it almost works. Pohu and Slivinskyi are tremendous and entirely believable in their difficult roles. Slivinskyi, in particular, balances deep sorrow with a care-free exterior beautifully. We always get the sense there's a deep turmoil going on beneath the glassy exterior.

For everything Enzo isn't, there is a lot going for it. Despite reservations, it is a lovingly observed story of love and loneliness, told with maturity and grace. Its quiet sorrow didn't connect with me as hard as I hoped, but in the end it left a vague longing of indescribable melancholy. That alone is worth the ticket.