THE STORY – September 2007. From her home in Sweden, Fred moves to Trieste on the Adriatic Sea with her father, who has taken a new management job in the Northeastern Italian city. Feisty and curious, she enrolls in the local Technical High School for her Senior Year, finding herself as the only girl in an all-male class. She quickly becomes the centre of attention, especially for three friends: the fascinating and reserved Antero, the outgoing womanizer Pasini, and the sweet and protective Mitis. The three have been a unit for as long as they can remember. Fred’s arrival disrupts their equilibrium and puts their longstanding friendship to the test. As each of the boys secretly desires Fred for himself, she yearns to be accepted into their circle and become one of them. But to truly belong, she is asked to sacrifice more and more.
THE CAST – Stella Wendick, Giacomo Covi, Pietro Giustolisi & Samuel Volturno
THE TEAM – Laura Samani (Director/Writer) & Elisa Dondi (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 102 Minutes
Italian director Laura Samani has built an impressive track record. Her feature debut, “Small Body,” premiered in Cannes Critics’ Week and went on to win Best New Director at the David di Donatello Awards. Her second feature, the pop-punk coming-of-age story “A Year of School” (“Un Anno di Scuola”), debuted in Italy in the Orizzonti section of the Venice Film Festival. It is no small achievement to have your first two films launch at Europe’s most prestigious festivals. Yet it is difficult to imagine “A Year of School” receiving the same acclaim as “Small Body.” This is the classic case of a sophomore slump: a film with flashes of tenderness but one that ultimately feels misguided at best and toxic at worst.
The story begins in September 2007, with a new school year for Frederika (a fantastic Stella Wendick). For the 17-year-old, it is also a new country, as her father has moved them from Stockholm to Trieste. An aspiring architect, Frederika, is placed in a class of all boys. Naturally, the rowdy teenagers, unrestrained by boundaries, swarm around her. At times, Samani even adopts their point of view, letting the camera leer at Frederika or zoom in on her body while she stands before the class. She endures sexual assault from one classmate and, in another cruel prank, finds her clothes stolen after a shower, forcing her to walk home in nothing but a towel. Yet Fred, as she is quickly nicknamed, shrugs these humiliations off with confidence, refusing to tell her father or the school.
Soon, she bonds with three boys: Antero (Giacomo Covi), a gentle bookworm with a rat tail; Pasini (Pietro Giustolisi), tall, handsome, and reeling from his brother’s death; and Mitis (Samuel Volturno), the mature and protective leader of the group. At first, their intentions seem noble, as they let Fred into their private clubhouse and help her adapt. However, by the third act, the dynamic begins to deteriorate. Fred’s natural connection with Antero sparks resentment in the others, who falsely believe she is romantically interested in them. The film reinforces a troubling cliché: that friendships between men and women inevitably lead to jealousy and conflict.
Here lies the film’s biggest problem. On the surface, “A Year of School” plays like a breezy indie, full of pop music and youthful energy. Yet it refuses to hold its male characters accountable. A pointed line near the end, which blames Fred for moving schools, is laughed off by both the characters and the audience. Even when Fred finally stands up for herself after being victim-blamed by her teacher and father, the film immediately pulls her back into the boys’ orbit, implying that the lesson is simply that “boys will be boys.”
This moral stance directly undercuts the film’s vibrant tone. If that contradiction was intentional, it lands poorly. If it was unintentional, it represents a staggering miscalculation. Samani may be faithful to Giani Stuparich’s 1929 novel “Un Anno di Scuola,” but viewed in 2025, the message already feels outdated. To present victim-blaming as acceptable, wrapped in upbeat pop music and youthful charm, is to undermine the very spirit of coming-of-age storytelling.
