Sweetheart (2021)
Director: Marley Morrison
Screenwriter: Marley Morrison
Starring: Nell Barlow, Jo Hartley, Tabitha Byron, Sophia Di Martino, Samuel Anderson, Ella-Rae Smith, Steffan Cennydd
British seaside holidays are a ritual of awkward adolescence: bright sunshine, corny entertainment, and family dynamics on full display. Marley Morrison’s debut feature, Sweetheart, captures that particular brand of teenage discomfort with warmth and wit. The film centers on April—who prefers to be called A.J.—played by Nell Barlow in a confident lead performance that anchors the story.
A.J. is reluctantly dragged to a classic British resort by her mother Tina (Jo Hartley) and sister Tabitha. Also joining them are her other sister Lucy, who is heavily pregnant, and Lucy’s partner Steve, who quietly attempts to soothe the household’s tensions. Tina and Lucy accept A.J.’s sexuality, but they are baffled by her style and interests: oversized black clothes, environmental concerns, and a general disdain for their idea of holiday fashion. They try, gently but insistently, to coax her into the sun and slip more conventional, floral clothing into her suitcase.
The holiday takes a turn when A.J. meets Isla (Ella-Rae Smith), an arresting lifeguard who is drawn to A.J.’s offbeat sense of humor and love of elephants. Isla invites A.J. to hang out with the resort staff, a group whose casual partying makes A.J. nervous. To fit in and avoid judgment, she pretends she’s older and invents an oddly specific plan to take a gap year in Indonesia “to knit jumpers for elephants.” Isla shows genuine interest, but A.J. holds back—partly because of past hurt and partly because Isla seems to orbit a more conventional romantic rival, the surfer-type Nathan (Steffan Cennydd).
The result is a holiday romance that feels like a cross between coming-of-age comedies and the chaotic fun of traditional British holiday resorts. Sweetheart balances sunburnt hilarity with the sharper edges of a teenager’s inner life: anxiety, identity exploration, and the awkwardness of first real attraction. Morrison’s script is spare where it needs to be and observant in its small details—conversations about tattoos, tentative flirtations, and the little humiliations that make teenage summers unforgettable.
Underlying the film’s lighter moments is the family’s separation—the absence of A.J.’s father creates a brittle undercurrent. A.J. rarely speaks about her life beyond the resort, but voiceover reflections hint at how the split has unsettled the family. Tina’s quick temper and desire to keep the holiday intact reveal her own attempts to stave off pain. In tension with that are A.J.’s growing independence and curiosity, which push against the family’s wish to hold onto familiar comforts.
One of the movie’s most welcome qualities is the calm, non-sensational way it treats A.J.’s sexuality. There is no hostile reaction or dramatic backlash from the family; instead, A.J. is allowed to explore her feelings without being reduced to a token or a crisis. In a cinematic landscape where LGBTQ+ teen stories often rely on trauma or confrontation, Sweetheart chooses a gentler route: a queer coming-of-age story that is about discovery, awkward joy, and the quiet complications of budding love. A.J.’s journey is not a straight line—she doubts, retreats, and then advances again—and that realism gives the film emotional depth.
At times the film flirts with predictability—the moody teenagers and certain plot beats will feel familiar to genre fans—but Morrison’s ear for dialogue and commitment to authentic detail lift the movie beyond cliché. Small scenes ring true: a boy named Elvis talking earnestly about getting a full-sleeve tattoo, the slightly humiliating family rituals of a seaside holiday, and the particular rhythms of Gen Z humor and anxiety. These moments make the film feel lived-in rather than constructed around archetypes.
Jo Hartley is excellent as the frazzled but loving mother, bringing nuance to a character who could easily be one-dimensional. Nell Barlow is a revelation: natural, expressive, and wholly believable as a teenager trying to figure herself out while under the keen gaze of relatives and strangers alike. The supporting cast complements them well, giving the film a warm ensemble feel.
Overall, Sweetheart is a tender, funny, and modern British coming-of-age film. It offers a fresh portrayal of teenage queer romance without making identity the sole dramatic engine, and it balances comedy with quieter emotional beats. Both Marley Morrison and Nell Barlow demonstrate significant promise, and the film stands out as an affectionate, honest take on adolescence, family, and first love.
20/24