Quartile rating: 6.5/10 · 1 rating
On the outskirts of Brooklyn, Frankie, an aimless teenager, suffocates under the oppressive glare cast by his family and a toxic group of delinquent friends. Struggling with his own identity, Frankie begins to scour hookup sites for older men.
Beach Rats is a quietly observed character study elevated well above its modest premise by Harris Dickinson's raw, naturalistic performance and Hélène Louvart's stunning 16mm cinematography, which captures Coney Island in a grainy, dreamlike twilight that mirrors Frankie's internal conflict. The plot itself is deliberately thin — a mood piece more than a narrative engine — and the ending, while tonally consistent, offers little resolution or catharsis, which may frustrate some viewers. Novelty is solid but not exceptional; the queer self-discovery genre has rich precedents (Weekend, Moonlight), and Beach Rats doesn't radically reinvent the form, though director Eliza Hittman's empathetic, voyeuristic female gaze on male sexuality lends it a genuine distinctiveness. Acting is the standout, with Dickinson delivering a breakthrough performance of coiled ambiguity.