My Year of Dicks (2022)
Director: Sara Gunnarsdóttir
Screenwriter: Pamela Ribon
Starring: Brie Tilton, Jackson Kelly, Klarissa Hernandez, Chris Elsebroek, Sterling Temple Howard, Mical Trejo, Sean Stack, Chris Kelman, Laura House, Pamela Ribon
My Year of Dicks is one of the most memorable short-film titles to come out of the 2022 awards season, and it delivers precisely what its blunt name promises: an honest, funny and tender account of a year shaped by awkward sexual awakenings. Adapted by Pamela Ribon from her memoir Notes to Boys (And Other Things I Shouldn’t Share in Public), this 25-minute animated short breaks the teenage experience into five distinct chapters. Each chapter centers on a specific, often embarrassing encounter that together create a vivid portrait of adolescence.
At the heart of the film is Pamela Ribon’s voice—both literally and emotionally. Ribon’s own footage from 1991, captured on a home video camera, is woven into the animated sequences like personal title cards. These brief live-action moments anchor the film in reality and remind viewers that the wild edges of memory belong to a real person who once felt elation, heartbreak, fear and confusion. That intimate framing makes the film feel authored and lived-in while broadening its appeal: in telling her singular story, Ribon taps into a shared, universal experience of growing up.
The film’s energy leans punk—rough around the edges, brash at times—but its core is compassion. The narrative follows Pam (voiced with bright vulnerability by Brie Tilton), a teenager desperate to move beyond the childhood she knows. She’s enthralled by different boys, sometimes self-destructive, often oblivious to danger. The film refuses to reduce these moments to moral lessons; instead it presents them honestly, acknowledging that youth is often a messy, contradictory time. As adults we may cringe at our pasts, but My Year of Dicks insists on empathy—for the version of ourselves who didn’t yet know better.
This is unapologetically a woman’s story: an attempt to fill cultural gaps left by generations of male-centered teen comedies. While gross-out comedies of the past have their place, films like My Year of Dicks are vital for a fuller cultural conversation. By showing the female perspective on desire, objectification and awkward sex, the film helps normalize experiences that are often stigmatized or misunderstood. It offers an alternative view where girls and young women are allowed complexity, contradiction and agency.
The film’s message is rooted in empathy and acceptance. It models a kinder way of looking at our younger selves—acknowledging foolishness without excusing harm, and honoring the messy work of learning who we are. The punk attitude that flashes through the piece—an insistence that embarrassment is neither final nor defining—is quietly revolutionary in its insistence on self-forgiveness.
Technically, the short is impressive. The animation shifts styles across chapters, keeping the viewer alert and emotionally engaged; these stylistic changes reflect the kaleidoscopic quality of memory. A small team of animators produces bold, inventive visuals that range from funny to achingly beautiful. The voice performances are authentic and age-appropriate, and the sound design and music complement the narrative with subtle precision. Everything works together to create an intimate, affecting experience that feels larger than its runtime.
Short films rarely feel this personal and necessary. My Year of Dicks manages to be tender, hilarious and painfully honest all at once. It’s a film that could spark productive conversations in classrooms, home viewings, and film clubs—anywhere young people and adults want to revisit the complicated terrain of adolescence. By inviting viewers to look at their pasts more kindly, it offers a small but meaningful form of cultural repair.
Score: 24/24
For viewers who want to experience the film directly, it is available to stream in full on commonly used short-film platforms and video-hosting sites. This short is well worth seeking out for its humor, heart and no-nonsense perspective on growing up.