Young Hearts transports us to the Belgian countryside at the end of summer. Vast open fields, rivers and swimming holes, farms, and abandoned buildings define the landscape, alongside the affluent, bourgeois homes where the main characters reside. There is a sense of ease and spaciousness, whether 14-year-old Elias (Lou Goossens) is joking with his friends, spending time with his girlfriend, or helping his grandfather on the farm.

When a new kid, Alexander (Marius de Saeger), moves to town, he becomes Elias’s next-door neighbor and classmate. Thin, long-haired, and handsome, Alexander quickly becomes part of Elias’s group of friends. Early in their friendship, while riding bikes together, they discuss whether they have ever been in love. Unlike Elias, Alexander forthrightly says he has—though not with a girl, but with a boy. Elias pretends not to be surprised. Before long, it becomes clear that he and Alexander have feelings for each other as well.

Elias’s journey of discovering love and grappling with self-acceptance follows a familiar coming-of-age trajectory (these types of scenarios rarely are). The story hits expected beats and and sometimes becomes a little too treacly in the romantic sequences. Yet this is unlikely to put off most viewers, as the film remains evocative and engaging. Goossens delivers a restrained yet deeply felt performance, capturing the intensity and upheaval of first love. The teenage characters feel convincingly naturalistic in their interactions, and the cinematography subtly enhances the setting—particularly in its attention to shifting light. Handheld camerawork in key sequences injects a sense of movement and energy, briefly immersing us in the restless vitality of adolescence.

However, despite its strengths, the film ultimately struggles to evoke the depth of emotion it aims for. The narrative is almost entirely focused on Elias’s internal journey toward self-acceptance. While his brief relationship with a girlfriend introduces some external conflict, the primary tension remains within him. Yet as Elias wrestles with his feelings, the people around him seem almost too understanding, too conveniently supportive.

To be clear, this is not to suggest that the film should have depicted hostility toward Elias’s sexuality. Rather, the issue lies in how readily those around him—his mother, grandfather, friends, and even his love interest—offer comfort, forgiveness, and encouragement. Their unwavering support feels more like a narrative convenience than a fully realized aspect of the story. Elias’s father is a brief exception, but even his initial reluctance to empathize has little lasting impact.

If director Anthony Schatteman’s goal was to highlight how attitudes toward homosexuality have evolved and to offer an aspirational portrayal of a gay teenager’s life, then he has succeeded, even though Elias’s support system feels more like a plot device than a convincingly rendered reality.