“Everyone has their own thing. And we have ours.”

Not since Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade have I seen a film that feels as in touch with the life or death stakes of after school adolescence as You Are So Not Invited To My Bat Mitzvah. This movie isn’t as artsy or visionary or thought provoking as Burnham’s Gen Z masterwork, but it’s every bit as honest, and entire scenes seem to have been pulled from and inspired by the kind of journal entries one keeps under lock and key, bearing the kinds of truths one only shares with the closest confidants. This isn’t a great film, but it’s incredibly authentic, and is by far the best Netflix feature to come from Sandler’s partnership with the behemoth streamer to date.

Dreams of the perfect coming of age party define much of Stacy Friedman’s (Sunny Sandler) newfound teenage existence, convinced that the immediate future hinges on whether or not her eventual bat mitzvah goes off without a hitch. Stacy is hyper-emotional, takes forever to get ready, is easily embarrassed by her totally uncool yet thankfully caring father (Adam Sandler). She likes a cool yet uncaring boy named Andy (Dylan Hoffman), doesn’t take her Mitzvah as seriously as rabbi Rebecca (Sarah Sherman) hopes, and only confides in her small circle of friends about the drama of what it means to be her. Like most teenagers, Stacy is rather selfish, and she’s the sun in her own heliocentric worldview. Maybe that explains why she treats her best friend Lydia (Samantha Lorraine) so poorly, despite how earnestly Lydia cares about her.

There’s a rift between the two best friends, the divide grows and multiplies, and the film ultimately lands in a place where Stacy and Lydia begrudgingly reconcile despite proper recompense. The catty drama works, mostly because the two young actresses are so believable and well cast. Sunny Sandler is outstanding and nails the desperation driving the longing in so many of her scenes, but I was even more impressed by the genuine heartbreak and eventual giddy amazement shown by Lorraine as Lydia. The film only works because the two are so good and so obviously friends off-screen. They look at each other way real friends do. You can’t fake that.

So much of You’re So Not Invited feels relatable despite how old audience members are while viewing it. All of the emotions are transferrable, and you don’t have to be 13 for the picture to instantly take you back to how it felt to be unconfident and uncool in school. To once more feel what it was like to be dramatic, to have weird habits and hiccups, or what it means to really be in love with your best friend of all-time. The movie carefully tiptoes hatred and somewhat awkwardly lands in a place of forgiveness, and in the end it takes a turn to understand the transition towards adulthood. Here the lesson is forgiveness – for the self and the other – and the message is heard loud and clear.

“Everybody in this house needs a shrink.”

Rating: 3 out of 5