A Daring First Feature Blending Love, Chaos, and Identity

With Pet Shop Days, Olmo Schnabel—son of filmmaker Julian Schnabel—delivers a striking and unconventional directorial debut. After premiering at the Venice Film Festival, the film makes its awaited theatrical release, diving headfirst into a raw and intense portrayal of passion and self-discovery. Starring Dario Yazbek Bernal and Jack Irv, the story revolves around two young men drawn together by a magnetic, volatile bond that teeters between connection and self-destruction.

From the opening frames, the film adopts the structure of a coming-of-age drama, only to morph into a modern tale infused with sensuality, alienation, and rebellion. Set in New York, Alejandro and Jack meet while both are in flight—one escaping his overbearing mother, the other rebelling against a controlling father. Their encounter sparks a fraught yet undeniable chemistry, spiraling into a tangled web of crime, attraction, and blurred morality. Scams, confrontations, and raw desires intertwine, leading them further off the beaten path.

A Fluid, Organic Approach to Bisexuality

One of the film’s most distinctive qualities lies in its exploration of bisexuality. Rather than framing it through the conventional lens of coming-out narratives or identity conflict, Pet Shop Days presents sexuality as a natural and instinctive extension of emotion and connection. It becomes an integral part of the characters’ emotional and existential journeys, not something to be debated or defined.

Schnabel avoids clichés, portraying sex and desire through the lens of emotion—sparked by either tenderness or anger. The connection between Alejandro and Jack transcends the bounds of romance, shaped by physical tension, emotional surrender, and a constant play of power. Their relationship fluctuates among domination, comfort, and vulnerability, creating an intense, ambiguous choreography of love and control.

A Chaotic Visual Language for a Directionless Generation

Visually, the film calls to mind the rawness of youth-centric classics from the late ’90s and 2000s. Think Ken Park by Larry Clark or Nick Cassavetes’ Alpha Dog—works that capture young lives flirting with ruin. Schnabel embraces an aggressive visual style: jittery handheld shots, saturated color palettes, and a disjointed editing rhythm mirror the internal unrest of his characters. The result is both disorienting and viscerally immersive.

Surrounding the central duo is a notable cast that heightens the film’s charged atmosphere. Performers like Willem Dafoe, Peter Sarsgaard, Maribel Verdú, and Emmanuelle Seigner take on the roles of flawed parental figures—guardian shadows often powerless or negligent—exemplifying the lack of guidance in the protagonists’ chaotic world. These characters amplify the sense of abandonment and emotional drift that defines Alejandro and Jack’s reality.

A Contemplation on Modern Masculinity

Beyond its stylized, music-video aesthetic, Pet Shop Days offers a nuanced commentary on the shifting nature of masculinity. Alejandro and Jack are boys left to construct their own idea of manhood amid absent role models and broken systems. In a world where strength and dominance no longer define masculinity, their acts of anger and rebellion stem more from vulnerability than a desire to defy.

Robbery, deception, and high-stakes risks become desperate forms of self-expression—ways to be seen, to feel alive, or perhaps to fill emotional voids. Yet amid the chaos, the film sometimes pauses to capture fleeting moments of gentleness and frailty. These quieter scenes offer a poignant contrast, adding emotional texture to the otherwise turbulent narrative.

An Intense but Occasionally Uneven Debut

While Pet Shop Days dazzles with visual boldness and pulsing energy, it occasionally falters in psychological depth. The characters, compelling as they are, feel sketched rather than deeply excavated. Where filmmakers like Larry Clark emphasized silence and subtlety, Schnabel gravitates toward excess and momentum.

This deliberate stylistic choice privileges sensation over introspection, plunging viewers into a whirlwind of emotion and experience. Ultimately, Pet Shop Days offers a vivid portrait of lost youth—wandering without purpose, guided more by longing than by clarity. It’s a debut that radiates sincerity and heat, even if it doesn’t always land with emotional precision—a fascinating, flawed, and undeniably passionate first film.