Booksmart Apr 2026

Booksmart systematically dismantles the hierarchy of high school. The "popular" kids (Gigi, Nick, Ryan) aren't bullies; they are three-dimensional humans. Nick, the jock, turns out to be a sensitive theater kid who loves listening to Joni Mitchell. Jared, the "douchebag," is just a lonely boy acting out for attention. The film argues that the cruelty of high school isn’t malice; it’s a failure of imagination. Molly and Amy assumed that because they worked hard, everyone else played hard. The truth is that everyone is panicking, and everyone is faking it. Where Booksmart transcends the genre is in its central relationship. Beanie Feldstein (loud, physical, desperate for control) and Kaitlyn Dever (internal, precise, terrified of her own desires) have a chemistry so natural it feels documentary.

In a lesser film, they would hook up with their crushes. Here, they simply sit with their peers. The jock hands them a beer. The mean girl hugs them. The bully apologizes. The final shot is of Molly and Amy diving off a boat into the water—not to prove anything, but simply because it feels good. Booksmart is a raunchy comedy about anxiety, a party movie about loneliness, and a coming-of-age story that argues you don’t actually "come of age" in one night. You just survive the night and wake up a little wiser. Booksmart

The film’s third-act conflict is not about getting to the party, but about the cracks in the friendship. Molly, the planner, has mapped out her life and Amy’s life. She is threatened by Amy’s impending departure to Africa and Amy’s crush on the "cool girl," Hope. In a devastating fight on a sidewalk, Molly screams, "You are a loser!"—the ultimate insult for the girl who has defined her life by winning. It is a brutal, authentic moment of two people who love each other realizing they have been using each other as armor. Amy’s arc is handled with extraordinary tenderness. She is a lesbian surrounded by supportive (if cluelessly awkward) parents, but her story isn't about coming out. It’s about the clumsiness of desire. Her attempts to flirt with the dreamy, skater-girl Hope (Diana Silvers) are a masterclass in awkwardness—mumbling, sweating, over-explaining. The film allows Amy to fail, to be rejected (kindly, but rejected), and to survive. In the end, she kisses a girl on a trampoline. It’s not a grand, sweeping Hollywood romance; it’s a soft, messy, joyful start. That is more radical than a perfect kiss. The Soundtrack and the Voice Music is a character. The film opens with a deafening blast of "My Babe" by Spoon, immediately establishing a jittery, anxious energy. It moves through "Slip Away" by Perfume Genius (during the emotional peak) and "Lady Lady" by Masego (the crush montage). But the masterstroke is the use of silence. During the fight scene, the music drops out. All we hear is breathing and pavement. Wilde knows that loud parties are fun, but the quiet moments are where you find the truth. A Flawed, Human Ending The film refuses the easy victory lap. Molly and Amy make it to the party, only to realize they left their phone—the GPS—in an Uber. They get arrested (by a cop voiced by Maya Rudolph, no less). They miss the party. They fail. But in failing, they find their way to the pier, where their entire graduating class has gathered to watch the sunrise. Jared, the "douchebag," is just a lonely boy