Aristotle (Max Pelayo) is a quiet and reserved teenager growing up in El Paso, TX in the early 80s.  Wasting his summer away at the edge of a pool that he does not know how to swim in, he meets Dante (Reese Gonzales), an excitable and free spirit who slowly coaxes Ari out of his shell.  The two form a deep connection with each other, but at the end of the summer, Dante moves to Chicago for a year.  In their time apart, the two discover things about themselves; things that could either threaten or strengthen their friendship when Dante returns to Texas the following summer. 

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe struggled to find its release after its debut at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2022 before eventually hitting screens courtesy of Blue Fox Entertainment.  Aitch Alberto directs and adapts Benjamin Alire Sáenz’s almost 400-page, beloved YA novel of the same name into the 98-minute film that finally made its way to theatres after a grueling run through the editing suites.  Insisting on a PG13 rating so that it would be more widely approachable, the narrative has so many gaps in its pacing that even without the backing knowledge of the novel it is based on, new audiences can tell that much has been left out of the final edit.  It is frustrating that both Alberto and Sáenz’s visions were altered in this way under the guise of accessibility, especially given that it was only released in 525 locations and had no discernable marketing campaign. Doubly unfortunate, the film was finally released during the dual WGA and SAG-AFRTRA strikes so that Alberto, Pelayo, and Gonzales were unable to do any in-person promotion of the film and sell the title on their charm and chemistry together, but hopefully, when it does find a home on streaming, both young actors’ talents are recognized and their work here can help springboard them into other projects.   

While both boys’ names appear prominently in the title, Akis Konstantakopoulos’ camera finds itself almost exclusively capturing Aristotle’s transformation in front of his inquisitive lens; knowingly framing him as a heartthrob under the simmering summer sun. Pelayo has a difficult task in heading up the film. Ari is not a dumb kid, he is just aimless through no real fault of his own and therefore Pelayo has to make sense of a role that is wrought with teenage angst and riddled with disaffection.  He does very well as one of the leads in the film, capturing a specific brand of anxiety regarding his identity and what it means to be a Mexican-American, a man, a brother of a convicted felon, and a friend to Dante who is an openly queer youth at the rise of the AIDs crisis.  With all of this on his plate, he finds a unique way into each arc and relationship, proving to be a capable young actor who is unafraid to go toe-to-toe with his scene partners or plumb some of the messier aspects of human emotion and be vulnerable in front of the lens.   

Pelayo, and the film at large, is failed by the edit that removes much of the introspection and nuances of Aristotle’s growth in favor of a snappy runtime and an appeal to the masses.  In an era where we are finally beginning to get more representation across the many broad spectrums in filmmaking be it on the page, behind the camera, or in front, these stories so often feel like they have been distilled in an effort to gain wider appeal.  Doing so strips away so much of what makes it a unique and powerful story that can forge a deeper connection with those who see themselves reflected on screen, and for those who do not have an immediate bridge to the turmoil being shown, they are left with a wishy-washy narrative.  Toning down the identity of these stories instead of being bold, brazen, and unapologetic holds them back from hitting their true potential.  Aristotle and Dante can, and rightfully should, be commended for all that it is trying to cover, but in an effort to do so much, it never stops to discern meaning and weigh consequences.  Both boys face immense trials both together and in private, but the film is so quick to move on that they never get to revel in the resolution, or conversely, contemplate what that resolution may mean for them moving forward. 

If the script fails Aristotle, it absolutely does Dante dirty.  A pivotal part of the narrative is that Dante moves away for the school year so that his father can teach in Chicago, so the boys swear to stay in touch as pen pals.  What this means for the film is that right as Gonzales’ bright charm is really beginning to blossom, he is – physically – absent for a good third of the runtime.  Gonzales does his best to lighten the mood and keep Ari thinking outside of the box with his letters chronicling life in Chicago, the girl he met and started a relationship with, questions about masturbation, and the eventual breakup with the girl.  We understand that Ari wrote a couple of times during the absence before making an excuse that he is bad with words and his job makes it hard for him to find time to sit down and wrestle with his thoughts, so for thirty minutes audiences are watching him mope and brood.  Budgetary reasons may have kept them from sending a B Crew to Chicago, so voiceover narration of the letters is the easy and cheapest way to go, but it really drags the energy of the film down.  Instead of getting to see even the briefest of scenes with Dante on his adventure in the Windy City, we sit in dusty El Paso to watch Aristotle read. The bright side of this is that Gonzales can lay the groundwork for the clunky nature of some of the YA soapbox themes that often work much better on the page than when they are directly translated on the screen. Gonzales’ affable and goofy nature makes him more apt than most to be able to embody these themes, but he is denied the chance to physicalize Dante’s struggle and we are denied the fun, lively spirit which he brings to every scene he inhabits.   

Like a bolt of lightning, when Dante returns to Texas, the energy of the film is immediately propulsive as the two fall back into their old ways, but in a race to keep the film under 100 minutes, we do not get all that joyous of a reunion and the film quickly doubles down on tragedy.  It is compounded in how awkwardly the film handles Dante’s coming out scene where he pressures Ari to kiss him goodnight.  Despite the chemistry between the two and a few sentences across the letters from the summer, this scene really comes out of nowhere, and seeing it portrayed on screen makes for a very uncomfortable experience, intensified by Ari’s violent reaction.  The heartbreak – or, rather, the betrayal – is poignantly portrayed by Gonzales.   

The film is heavily slanted towards Ari’s experience so we do not see Dante cope with this fallout, but we also do not see Ari dealing with this either, which is a shame.  It forces him into stoicism and his change of heart comes more from an acceleration of tragic events while the growth ended up on the cutting room floor.  There are so many important aspects of the story that feel unresolved because Ari’s grief process is not shown.  The death of his aunt (Marlene Forte, in a really beautiful portrayal), confronting his family about his brother, Dante getting gay bashed in an alley when he is seen kissing another boy, and Ari’s subsequent explosion against the thug that beat up Dante and the terrifying parallels of violence it creates between him and his brother all play out like an extended montage, hastily assembled, so that when Ari does finally open up to his parents – his knowing mother (Veronica Falcón) and tortured father (Eugenio Derbez) – it is lacking some of the buildup to really make the scene work.  It is still a beautiful scene shared with his parents that balances Ari’s confusion about his own acceptance, and the fear he has to even say the words aloud., but Ari still has to ask Dante for forgiveness, and unfortunately, this scene lacks the impact to work as the emotional capstone of the film.  Their friendship is just as quickly mended as it was destroyed and because the script is so afraid to handle Dante as a real person, even though we know Ari is truthful because we saw his coming out to his parents, it still feels like there is a lot left unresolved between the two and Dante is not allowed to state his own feelings because he immediately falls back into Ari’s arms. It is the ending we want for these two – to live happily ever after – but the scene paints Dante as an incredibly desperate figure, and while there is that deep well of love in his heart for Ari, Dante deserves more from this edit than he ultimately gets. 

The major criticism against Aristotle and Dante is really just backhanded praise in that it leaves audiences wanting more, not just in where it ends their story at the start of their relationship, but in how it got there.  So many sequences are cut short for a variety of reasons, and each cut takes away from the power and the beauty of the story.  It is not that this story would have been better served as a series, but it should have been allowed to be the truest form of itself; embrace the R-rated feelings and the time it takes to discover oneself.  Dante always asks Ari to stop running from what scares him, yet somewhere along the line, the financiers became scared and wanted to distance themselves from what this story truly and authentically is.  The evidence is all there that Alberto crafted what could have been a defining work in the queer coming of age canon had it been allowed to run closer to two hours, and while the business of filmmaking holds the film back, there is so much chemistry between Gonzales and Pelayo as they embody all the joys and the pains of growing up that it is not a film that can be written off, either.  Alberto and her cast have so much love and care for the story that even in the lower points, our hearts ache for the sensitive Dante who is stuck in this awful cycle of unrequited love and for poor Ari who is a lost soul afraid to confront what Dante unlocks in him.  Together, they discover secrets that they have hidden about themselves, and possibly, audiences may learn some secrets about themselves, too, and find the courage to be true to themselves.