Before 2018, the mainstream Hollywood teen romance had a blueprint: the boy-meets-girl, the grand gesture at the football game, the prom night resolution. For LGBTQ+ youth watching from the margins, these stories were a mirror that refused to reflect them. Then came Love, Simon —a film that didn’t just add a gay protagonist to the formula, but proved the formula had always belonged to him, too.
Based on Becky Albertalli’s novel Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda , the film tells the story of Simon Spier (Nick Robinson), a closeted high school senior in suburban Atlanta. On the surface, Simon is the embodiment of teen movie normalcy: a loving family, a tight-knit group of friends, and an almost painfully charming ordinary life. But beneath the surface hums a secret, shared only with an anonymous classmate known only as "Blue" through a series of achingly tender emails.
The climactic Ferris wheel scene is a masterclass in emotional payoff. When Simon finally confronts Blue (revealed to be the sweet, shy Bram), the kiss they share isn’t a shocking revelation. It’s a relief. It’s the exhale after a breath held for an entire runtime. The crowd below doesn’t recoil; they cheer. In that moment, Love, Simon achieves its most radical act: it presents a gay romance not as a political statement, but as a triumph of the heart, as deserving of a grand, teary, joyful ending as any John Hughes movie ever was.
But that is precisely its power. For a generation of young people watching in small towns or conservative homes, the film was a lifeline. It said: Your future can be ordinary. Your love story can be simple. You get to have the big, tearful, joyful grand gesture, too. It made the radical move of demanding that queer joy be seen as just as cinematic as queer pain.
Ultimately, Love, Simon is not a film about being gay. It is a film about being human—about the terrifying, exhilarating act of letting yourself be truly known. And in a world that so often tells LGBTQ+ youth that their love is complicated, dangerous, or wrong, a movie that simply says "It gets better. And it will be beautiful" is not just entertainment. It is an act of grace.