One of the best films I’ve seen in recent years is a quiet indie from Argentina, released in 2018 (although I only discovered it recently, as a gift of the algorithm). Mi Mejor Amigo is the coming-of-age story of two very different teenage boys, their unlikely friendship, and the redemptive power of love, as set over a backdrop of class conflict, sexual confusion and the gorgeous Patagonian countryside.
The story begins with Lorenzo, a shy, quiet, and bookish teenager growing up in a middle-class family in a picturesque but remote village at the edge of nowhere. His family’s life is turned upside-down when Caito, a tough, streetwise, heavily tattooed teen, and the son of Lorenzo’s father’s best friend, shows up on their doorstep–a refugee from some kind of trouble shrouded in mystery.
Although Lorenzo’s uptight mother is reluctant, the family feels obligated to take Caito in. There is initial friction between the two boys, the rule-following studious good kid, Lorenzo, and the sneering high-school dropout rebel, Caito. Eventually, however, they form a deep bond that leads Lorenzo far outside of his comfort zone, and coaxes Caito to reveal the dark secret that brought him to the family in the first place.
The film is billed as a Romance, but Bromance would be more accurate. Lorenzo is clearly attracted to his muscular friend, but it’s never clear if his more romantic feelings are reciprocated, and their relationship never becomes a sexual one–at the most, it’s an occasion for Lorenzo to make some unexpected discoveries about himself.
The cast is uniformly excellent, and perfectly matched with their roles, but as compelling as the young stars were, the real standout to me was Moro Anghileri in the role of Lorenzo’s mother. Originally, she seems like the villain of the piece. Her clear and immediate dislike of Caito is easy to judge through Lorenzo’s eyes as the prejudice of a privileged, middle-class woman with European features against a poor teen with a more indigenous face. Eventually, however, we learn more of the backstory, and learn that the family is in remote Patagonia as the price of escaping from a dysfunctional, drug-riddled, violence-plagued community that she fears Caito will drag them back into. Her mistrust, easily misread by her son as the knee-jerk reaction of a petty tyrant, is rooted in justified concerns, and in the knowledge of the fragility of the refuge she has built for her family.
The key scene of the film comes right before the end. Caito, fleeing his demons, has vanished, and Lorenzo is distraught, and inclined to lash out at his mother. He is entirely unprepared when she confronts him with two truths that she has intuited about him, but that he is yet to accept about himself–that he is gay, and that he is in love with his best friend.
What stood out to me in this scene is the purity of her maternal love. Despite her negative feelings about Caito, her fears for the family, and her dislike of how Caito has introduced Lorenzo to petty vices such as alcohol, truancy, and lying to his parents, she puts all of that aside in order to send her son one very clear message, that she sees him as he is, and that she loves and supports him utterly, no matter who and what he is, and whom he loves.
Reader, I was in tears. It put me in mind of the unconditional love I’ve received from my parents, and what a rare and irreplaceable gift that is, one that so few people receive. It put me in mind, also, of my own children, of a similar age to Lorenzo, and all the ways I have and haven’t been that unconditionally loving parent to them. It made me, at least for the moment, want to transcend my own judgmentalism.
At any rate, it’s a fantastic film, available on streaming services. Put it on your list.