THE STORY – When a chance encounter with her rockstar crush leads 16-year-old Rylee to discover that he’s a dysfunctional drug addict, she takes it upon herself to help him, ultimately forcing her teenage fantasies into reality.
THE CAST – Amanda Brugel, Justin Chatwin, Aya Furukawa, Kate Hallett, Steven Ogg & Herman Tømmeraas
THE TEAM – Emma Higgins (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 96 Minutes
Being a teenage girl is horrifying. It’s an emotional rollercoaster that can often come with aching isolation. Emma Higgins’ “Sweetness,“ recently shown at the Fantasia International Film Festival, distills that period and all its raw emotion into a pitch-black coming-of-age horror story, one that’s less about love and more about the illusion of it. Think “Misery“ with a band T-shirt and a streak of Gen Z pop-star fixation à la “Trap“. In the genre of horror films about fame, “Sweetness“ carves out its own grim melody, which is often uncomfortable but hard to look away from.
Rylee (Kate Hallett) is the kind of teenager most people either ignore or bully. Grieving the loss of her mother, she’s looked down upon as a freak by classmates. Living under the rule of her emotionally stunted police officer father, Ron (Justin Chatwin), she’s incredibly lonely. Rylee retreats to her bedroom, her sanctuary, where the walls are lined with posters of Peyton (Herman Tømmeraas), the sweat-slicked, heartbreak-crooning lead singer of the pop-rock band Floorplan. His lyrics, raw and aching, speak to her in a way no one else does. They’re the only thing that makes her feel seen.
Together with her only friend, Syd (Aya Furukawa), Rylee clings to the excitement of the upcoming Floorplan concert where she’ll finally see Peyton live. For one night, she escapes from the weight of what she describes as a miserable existence and gets swept up in the music that has often soothed her. The concert scenes are among the film’s strongest: they pulse with hormonal urgency, a sea of teen girls screaming for a god who doesn’t even know their names. You understand why Rylee is obsessed from a physical perspective, but you also feel it spiritually when she sings along, her eyes closed, her voice trembling with emotion. This music and this artist are everything to her.
Soon, this high crashes (literally). Waiting outside for Syd (who’s off flirting), Rylee is struck by a car in the parking lot. The driver? Peyton, intoxicated despite his public image of sobriety. Rather than call for help, he panics, offering Rylee a ride home to cover his tracks. But first, he insists on stopping by his dealer’s. The situation spirals from bad to catastrophic when he crashes again. This time, Rylee takes control. She drags Peyton home and, using her dad’s spare handcuffs, shackles him to her bed. She tells herself she’s helping him get sober. That she’s saving him. But in reality, she’s clinging to a fantasy so tightly it’s drawing blood.
From here, “Sweetness“ becomes a study in delusion. Rylee is convinced she knows Peyton; that his lyrics were written just for her; that this is destiny. She says, “This isn’t you,“ as she watches him succumb to drugs, like she knows who he really is. It’s a chilling reminder of how deeply parasocial relationships can warp reality, particularly for those already grieving, lonely, and desperate for connection. As Peyton lies terrified in this teenage girl’s bedroom, the camera pans to dozens of images of his own face staring down at him from Rylee’s posters. It’s a haunting, surreal image, as his stardom turns into a prison.
The film tries to balance this obsessive horror with a fragile emotional core. We learn Rylee is drowning in guilt over her mother’s death, that her father struggles to connect, and that she’s spent so long being invisible that she’s desperate to be seen. Some of these revelations arrive late or provide minimal exploration. Even a heart-to-heart with her father arrives with an odd placement in the chaos. While some elements of the script do offer a glimpse into Rylee’s psyche, they’re not crafted strongly enough to justify her actions. Unlike films like “Carrie,“ for example, the script fails to sympathize with Rylee’s descent into madness fully. Had the script more deeply explored her mental unraveling or committed to portraying her as unhinged from the outset, the third act might have had a greater impact.
Still, Hallett delivers a ferocious performance, walking a razor-thin line between heartbreak and horror, while Furukawa’s Syd serves as the audience’s conscience, growing increasingly alarmed by her best friend’s behavior as she yells everything we’re thinking. Rounding out a young cast of new faces, Tømmeraas fully embodies the allure of the rockstar and captures the hard fall some take from the pressure.
Despite it often being hard to connect with or feel sympathy for its main character fully, you can’t help but want to sit back and see how “Sweetness“ plays out. Higgins, in her debut feature, crafts an uneasy exploration of loneliness and idol worship. They say you should never meet your idols, but “Sweetness“ argues that idols shouldn’t meet their fans either.
