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In Laura Luchetti’s The Beautiful Summer, a lesbian coming-of-age story treads well-worn territory. Set in Turin, Italy in 1938, the film follows 17-year-old Ginia (Yile Yara Vianello), who has just moved to the city with her brother to work as a dressmaker. Ginia meets Amelia (Deva Cassel), an alluring young woman who models for painters and has something of a reputation. Ginia is immediately taken with Amelia, whose attention is often elsewhere. 

Amelia introduces Ginia to artists and bohemians, and their relationship – tenuous and undefined as it is – begins to upend Ginia’s life. Her affection for Amelia causes her to lose touch with those around her and shirk the responsibilities she once took seriously. It’s also Italy in 1938, which means fascism is on the rise, though Ginia pays little attention to what must be a sense of growing unease. Indeed, if you’re looking for a film that depicts lesbian love as an act of resistance to fascism, this is not that film. (For that, see Mädchen in Uniform, considered the first lesbian film, which is explicit in its anti-fascist messaging, and Aimee & Jaguar which follows lesbian love under Nazi rule.)

The Beautiful Summer isn’t particularly novel or groundbreaking, and the central love story doesn’t burn as brightly as you’d hope. If there’s interest to be found here, it’s in the reminder that there is such a thing as an archetypical lesbian coming-of-age story, one with discernable tropes and style. 

In many romantic coming-of-age films, first love is framed as a stepping stone to adulthood, a foundational aspect of growing up. This narrative is not unique to queer folks, though it often finds distinct resonance in queer stories when one character has more (queer) experience than the other, whether this means an age disparity or not. Though its protagonists are technically adults, Carol depicts this journey through Therese’s character arc. 

In films where the characters are teenagers or young adults, lesbian love is frequently framed as a gateway to sex, drugs, and general debauchery. On the one hand, lesbianism is associated with subversion and rebellion, and on the other, young love is understood as both powerful and dangerous. The Beautiful Summer makes this connection explicit, especially as it concerns the physical dangers of sex and the possibility of losing yourself in another person. Lost & Delirious is another example of this narrative overlap, noted for its controversial ending.

In many instances, these moments of transformation take place in the summertime. If The Beautiful Summer sounds like a familiar title, that’s because films like La Belle Saison (Summertime), The Summer of Sangaile, My First Summer, and My Summer of Love already exist. It isn’t difficult to parse out why this season is so evocative in this context. Summer conjures up an image of freedom –  it’s a sort of in-between season (especially for youth) where play and joy are paramount. For the protagonists of these films, summer is the time when they can explore who they are and come into their own – with the help of another young woman, of course. 

One of the most moving aspects of any love story is the experience of being truly seen by another person. In The Beautiful Summer, Ginia articulates this desire through her interest in modeling like Amelia. “I want someone to look at me and show me who I am,” she says. This dynamic was rendered with great beauty in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, in which the distinction between object and subject dissipates as true love develops. The yearning to be seen or understood hits adolescents particularly hard, as young people find themselves pushing up against societal expectations and ingrained social dynamics. For lesbians and queer women, this dissonance between internal feelings and external messaging can be quite acute, lending first love even more intensity – and precarity. 

Many stories of first queer love depict a dynamic recognizable to viewers of lesbian films. We might call this pairing “the shy one and the confident one.” From Water Lilies to Show Me Love to Blue Is The Warmest Color, this dynamic allows the coming-of-age tale to flourish with a dramatic flair. The shy character in these films is almost always the protagonist we are pushed to identify with, her confusion and overwhelm framed as a relatable emotional arc. The question, of course, is whether this captivating other woman is good for our more reserved protagonist, if she brings her out of her shell or encourages her more self-destructive instincts. (In The Beautiful Summer, both effects come to pass.) This dynamic invites audience identification and contributes to the sense of yearning and aspiration these films produce. 

Like any cinematic or literary tropes, these coming-of-age archetypes can appear fresh and satisfying when invoked creatively, and dull or redundant when rehashed with no spark. The Beautiful Summer falls more in the latter category than the former, though it’s hard to deny the charms of such familiar chronicles. The summer is indeed beautiful, even if the sun shines just the same as before. 

What is your favorite lesbian coming-of-age film? Perhaps I will do a deeper dive into the ‘genre’ at a later date.

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