It feels like a time gone by of dreamy focused, eternally youthful, summer days: running around in woods, water fights, wrestling, sitting out of football matches, Play-Doh spaghetti, and feeling too scared to stand next to the other boys to pee.
With an approach that is far more Boys Don't Cry than it is Mrs Doubtfire, and by hitting upon gender identity during pre-puberty, a lengthy and distancing make-up job can be avoided.
And so without a rubber nose nor silicone jaw in sight, little Zoé Héran is left stripped bare, literally, to "play boy", with performance alone. And her performance as Laure / Mikael is nothing short of genius.
Tomboy doesn't end with killings or sex or a pile of money. It's a movie about children where the children aren't effigies of the adult audience, with knowing wrinkles and smart-aleck sneers carved on ten-year-old faces. It is the opposite. It's a movie that can help the hardened and scratched-up adult carapace melt away for 80-odd minutes. Through layers of paperwork and grime, we watch and we imagine remembering what it was like to feel protected and loved by two tall and wonderful beings. What it was like to come home to dinner. What it was like not knowing who you were.
