Like John Holmes' underwear: warm but it tries to hold too much.

The story about an adolescent assigned female at birth who identifies as a male was wonderful. The subject was handled with compassion and subtilty and the actress who played the child (Luana Giuliani) hit all of her marks.

Yet, it was fairly clear from the vibe at the outset that the film was a memoir (last September, the director Emanuele Crialese confirmed that he was AFAB). The problem here was that he diluted this emotional story of his sexuality with more mundane aspects of his childhood (parents who fight, a domineering father, an eccentric mother who accepts her child's confusion).

The other hurdle the film faces is Penelope Cruz. The problem here is that she's so famous, such a huge and talented actress, that you can't put her in a film without making her the central character (she's even the only person on the poster).

So what should've been a sensitive look at a girl who knows in her heart of hearts that she's a boy falling in love for the first time with a girl, turns out to be a Penelope Cruz vehicle about a flighty mother.

The movie is still good enough to recommend, but it could've been so much more.

PS. Shout-out to the inclusion of the brilliant Italian song Prisencolinensinainciusol (Adriano Celentano, 1972), a song written and performed in gibberish meant to resemble an American accent because the singer/songwriter believed Italians would buy anything sung in American. YouTube it now or be sad the rest of your life.