Kissing Is the Easy Part

The Weight of Teenage Pretend

There is a particular kind of cinematic comfort in knowing exactly how a movie will end within its first five minutes. I don't mean that as an insult. In Fawzia Mirza's *Kissing Is the Easy Part*, a Tubi original adapted from Christine Duann's mammoth Wattpad hit, the destination is never in question. We are in the realm of the high school romantic comedy, a genre built on sturdy, inflexible bones. Yet what makes Mirza's film interesting is not where it ends up. It is how it casually dismantles the machinery of the 1990s teen movie while pretending to be one.

You know the setup. Or at least, you think you do. Sean (Asher Angel) is a high-strung overachiever desperately trying to pad his MIT application. Flora (Paris Berelc) is the school's reigning popular girl, a tempest of designer clothes and weaponized apathy. When Flora's emotionally unavailable scientist parents bribe Sean with a college recommendation letter to tutor—and essentially babysit—their rebellious daughter, the trap is set. (Yes, it is essentially *10 Things I Hate About You* fed through a Gen Z algorithm). Yet, Mirza flips the gendered dynamics of the "bad boy and the nerd" trope. Here, the boy is the flustered academic, and the girl holds all the social power.



Watch how Berelc moves through the school hallways in the opening act. She does not just walk; she glides with a kind of exhausted armor. Having started her career as a Disney Channel superhero in *Mighty Med*, Berelc knows how to play characters who are larger than life. Yet what she does here is subtler. Her shoulders carry the invisible tension of a girl who has decided that being beautiful and difficult is safer than being understood. Flora is not actually failing because she is incapable. She is failing because succeeding on her parents' rigid terms feels like a surrender.

There is a quiet study date midway through the film that caught me off guard. They are sitting across from each other, textbooks wedged between them like a barricade. Sean is explaining a concept, his hands moving in tight, anxious circles. Angel, who spent years playing a literal superhero in *Shazam!*, shrinks his posture here. He hunches over his notes, his jaw tight with the pressure of a kid who believes his entire life depends on getting into one particular college. Then Flora leans forward and casually corrects his math. She does not make a grand show of it. The camera stays wide, letting us watch Sean's face cycle through confusion, realization, and finally, a deep, quiet respect. The air in the room shifts. It is a small moment, but it is the exact second the transaction becomes a relationship.



I am not entirely sure the movie knows what to make of its supporting cast, to be honest. *Schitt's Creek* alum Jennifer Robertson shows up as Sean's mother, bringing her reliable warmth, but the adult world in this film mostly exists to dispense obstacles or advice. Mirza's camera is far more interested in the teenagers. The director bathes them in soft, practical light, avoiding the hyper-saturated gloss of typical streaming teen fare. The colors feel worn in.

Perhaps the film leans a little too heavily on its Wattpad origins in the third act. The inevitable revelation of Sean's secret deal feels rushed, a mandatory plot beat ticked off a checklist rather than an organic emotional fracture. As *Film Gate Reviews* noted, the film "takes an already incredulous premise and flips it into something even more outlandish," but it works because the leads never treat it like a joke. They play the stakes as absolute, which is exactly how high school feels when you are in it.



We watch these movies not to be surprised, but to be reassured. What Mirza has crafted is a gentle reminder that the masks we wear to survive high school—the overachiever, the rebel, the cool girl—are incredibly heavy. Letting someone else carry the weight for a little while? That is the hard part. The kissing is just the reward.