Movie Review: I Wish You All the Best

Movie Review: I Wish You All the Best

A review by Marc Primo

Roger Ebert once said that the moments that bring him to tears in film are not the heartbreaking ones, but the ones filled with genuine kindness. That sentiment echoed in the background as this reviewer watched I Wish You All the Best, a film that wears compassion at its core. It’s nearly impossible to sit through without feeling your throat tighten, not because of tragedy, but because of the rare tenderness it allows to exist on screen.

Adapted from Mason Deaver’s acclaimed novel, the film follows Ben, a 17-year-old nonbinary teen portrayed with quiet vulnerability by Corey Fogelmanis. When Ben comes out, their strictly religious parents respond not with love, but with rejection. Lost and suddenly without a home, Ben reaches out to their estranged sister, Hannah, played by Alexandra Daddario, someone they haven’t spoken to in ten years. She, too, was pushed away by the same rigid household.

What happens next is the kind of warmth Ebert would have recognised instantly. Hannah and her husband, Thomas (Cole Sprouse), open their door without hesitation. They treat Ben not as a burden, but as family rediscovered, offering safety, stability, and unconditional acceptance in the moments Ben needs it most.

The film’s strength lies in its sincerity. It doesn’t sensationalise Ben’s pain or turn their identity into a spectacle. Instead, it focuses on small, ordinary acts of care; meals shared, conversations whispered, a room prepared as if they’d been expected all along. Those are the scenes that bring the tears.

The remainder of the story follows Ben’s gradual journey toward self-worth, guided by the kind of steady respect and acceptance they’ve never been offered before. It feels like watching something fragile open itself to the light, a slow, gentle blooming. Tommy Dorfman, serving as both writer and director, handles this evolution with remarkable tenderness, and Corey Fogelmanis brings such nuance to Ben that even the smallest shifts in posture feel meaningful.

As Ben begins to shed the weight of hiding who they are, their entire presence softens. Their shoulders, once drawn in protectively, start to settle. Their spine lengthens. Their steps become lighter, more assured. There’s even a moment when Ben lets their guard down enough to dance a little on the sidewalk, something unthinkable in the film’s early scenes. And when their face brightens for the first time, it’s not a dramatic transformation but a quiet, radiant one, the kind that tells the audience they’re finally beginning to breathe freely.

Of course, Ben’s path isn’t smooth. They’re still a teenager, after all, and figuring out how to care for others and, more dauntingly, how to care for themselves, is a lesson that doesn’t come easily. Accepting love can be just as challenging as offering it.

Hannah welcomes Ben without hesitation, but she also knows they need structure. She helps Ben find part-time work at a community program for seniors, many of whom live with memory challenges. It’s a quiet, grounding environment that gives Ben both responsibility and purpose.

Thomas, meanwhile, uses his position as a high school teacher to help Ben slip back into classes without the usual paperwork hurdles. He even arranges for Nathan, played with gentle charm by Miles Gutierrez-Riley, to give Ben a tour and help them settle in.

But none of this works unless Ben learns to show up fully. They must prove they can arrive on time for work, keep Hannah informed of their whereabouts, and navigate the delicate beginnings of a friendship or maybe something more with Nathan. Honesty, reliability, and emotional awareness become new muscles Ben has to train, one relationship at a time.

Ben also finds unexpected refuge in an art class where, amusingly, they turn out to be the only students. The class is taught by Ms Lyons, the kind of wonderfully eccentric, big-hearted art teacher everyone wishes they’d had at least once. Lena Dunham brings a gentle spark to the role, and the scenes between her and Ben end up being some of the film’s most touching.

With Ms Lyons’ steady encouragement, Ben begins to explore their inner world through scraps of images, colours, and textures. It becomes a quiet ritual of self-discovery. As Ben assembles these pieces, their emotions slowly shift from buried to recognised, and eventually to something empowering. By the time Ben—later embracing the name B—steps forward as their true self, it feels like watching someone lay down the final piece of a long, overdue puzzle.

What makes the film resonate so deeply is its sincerity. The small, grounded moments keep the story from drifting into a picture-perfect fantasy where every person is instantly supportive. The warmth Ben, later B, receives is real, but the film also acknowledges the complications. Beyond B’s own emotional battles, the most difficult tension arises when their parents unexpectedly attempt to reconnect.

What’s striking is that B is finally in a place where they can offer the same grace they’ve been shown while still protecting themselves. Their ability to draw firm boundaries becomes more meaningful than anything their parents try to say. It’s a quiet but powerful shift.

Tommy Dorfman, known for her role as Ryan in 13 Reasons Why before her transition at 28, infuses the film with remarkable gentleness. Her direction reflects a deep affection for every character, even those who falter. That unwavering empathy gives the movie its warmth and makes it feel like a small, shining treasure.