A Bold Directorial Debut Exploring Love, Identity, and Inner Turmoil
With Pet Shop Days, first-time director Olmo Schnabel—son of celebrated filmmaker Julian Schnabel—announces his arrival with a raw, provocative, and emotionally charged film. After its debut at the Venice Film Festival, the film hits theaters with a story that intertwines recklessness and romance, chronicling a feverish connection between two young men navigating passion, freedom, and self-destruction. Starring Dario Yazbek Bernal and Jack Irv, the film follows their unpredictable relationship as it veers into a world of crime and emotional chaos.
What begins as a familiar coming-of-age tale quickly transforms into a gritty journey marked by sensuality, rebellion, and alienation. Set in a restless New York, Alejandro and Jack are two fugitives of circumstance—one escaping an oppressive mother, the other breaking away from his rigid father. Their meeting sparks instant chemistry, tension, and a stormy attachment that escalates into thefts, confrontations, and impulsive decisions. Their bond resists categorization, teetering between intimacy and implosion.
Authentic and Fluid Representation of Bisexuality
One of the film’s standout elements is its refreshingly organic depiction of bisexuality. Pet Shop Days resists the trope-heavy approach of ‘defining moments’ or coming-out arcs. Instead, it integrates sexuality seamlessly into the emotional and psychological fabric of its characters. Their desires are less about labels and more about spontaneous connection and emotional response, reflecting real human complexity.
Schnabel skips over the typical clichés, allowing scenes of intimacy to unfold with raw emotional honesty—whether driven by tenderness, anger, or craving. The dynamic between Alejandro and Jack is charged with power shifts, emotional vulnerability, and simmering tension. Their relationship exists in a grey area, where love, lust, control, and compassion overlap in unpredictable ways—resulting in a volatile but deeply human bond.
A Raw Visual Style that Captures Restless Youth
The film’s visual language evokes a sense of urgency and disarray, drawing inspiration from early 2000s youth dramas like Larry Clark’s Ken Park and Nick Cassavetes’ Alpha Dog. Pet Shop Days employs frenetic handheld camerawork, moody lighting, saturated hues, and erratic pacing to mirror the inner turbulence of its protagonists. This intentional chaos pulls viewers directly into Alejandro and Jack’s world, making the unpredictability of their actions all the more visceral.
Supporting performances from industry heavyweights such as Willem Dafoe, Peter Sarsgaard, Maribel Verdú, and Emmanuelle Seigner add depth and resonance. These characters—often failed or flawed parental figures—highlight the emotional vacancy haunting the central duo, emphasizing their struggle to find meaning and connection in a world absent of consistent guidance or compassion.
Reimagining Masculinity in a Changing World
Underneath its visceral edginess, the film offers a thoughtful meditation on evolving concepts of masculinity. Alejandro and Jack must shape their own version of manhood in the absence of functional role models. In rejecting traditional ideals of power and dominance, their rebellion feels less like rebellion and more like a cry for connection, purpose, or agency.
Dangerous decisions—stealing, lying, risking everything—aren’t glamorized but instead presented as expressions of emotional voids. Yet in between the chaotic episodes are rare, quiet moments of softness that invite reflection. These fleeting scenes offer a glimmer of vulnerability and connection, contrasting powerfully with the film’s otherwise frenetic rhythm.
A Visually Impactful Yet Emotionally Unsteady First Film
While Pet Shop Days brims with cinematic energy and a keen eye for mood, its characters can feel more symbolic than fully realized. Schnabel leans toward intensity and sensation over subtlety and psychological nuance. Where some filmmakers use space and silence to deepen character insight, Schnabel fills the frame with movement, mood swings, and visceral experience.
That stylistic choice fuels a compelling ride but occasionally at the expense of emotional resonance. Still, the film burns with authenticity and youthful angst, offering a stirring—if imperfect—portrait of a generation grasping for meaning. Schnabel’s debut may not answer every question it raises, but it dares to explore identity, longing, and erotic connection with nerve, honesty, and unfiltered passion—a memorable and promising start to a bold cinematic voice.