Adapted by Hart, Kristin Hahn and Jordan Horowitz from Jerry Spinelli’s novel of the same name, this tale of two teens falling in love and struggling to find balance in their polar opposite identities may prove difficult viewing for cynics or those with a low tolerance for the overtly saccharine. While it suffers from a rocky beginning with burdensome amounts of kook and quirk, the unfolding spell it subtly casts holds profundity and wisdom.

Sixteen-year-old Leo Borlock (Graham Verchere) is about to realise there are no perks of being a wallflower. Since the death of his father and a traumatic bullying incident, he’s felt that the key to surviving adolescence is fitting in without disrupting the norm. That means no standing out by showing his true self – a person who loves dinosaurs, sports, kooky porcupine-themed ties, and the music of The Cars. Instead, he keeps his head down, gets decent grades, plays in the marching band and hides on the A/V squad with a few pals.

With her irrepressible personality, eccentric clothing and love of the ukulele, former home-schooler Stargirl Caraway (Grace VanderWaal) stands out in a sea of sameness. She makes this instantly known on her first day of class with her hippie-inspired name and colourful, 90s-influenced garb, but also during lunch when she singles Leo out in the cafeteria to sing him Happy Birthday. Later, she crashes the football game to augment the cheerleading squad’s efforts with her acoustic cover of the Beach Boys’i0 Be True To Your School. While all these acts sound like social suicide – the pendulum swings in the opposite direction, garnering respect and popularity from classmates and townsfolk, as well as further attention from Leo, who’s seriously crushing on her.

In the pantheon of Disney’s teen movies, Hart and company’s adaptation earns strong marks for its realistic portrayal of their caste society – or, at least, a sanitised version of it. Though there are delineations between the popular kids and those who aren’t, traditional archetypes like the brain, athlete, princess, rebel, and outcast have either evolved or been excised to reflect a more modern sensibility. There is blessedly no troupe of mean girls or jocks mocking, ridiculing, or conspiring against Stargirl. And the outcasts aren’t exactly the rebellious cads or pocket-protector nerds of their juvenile societal order. This dynamic ecosystem suggests the payoff for what John Hughes fought to shatter in The Breakfast Club.

– Compilation