Every human being, to some degree, takes for granted their loved ones, those who are present in their lives. But appreciating the fragility of who you have, and for the brief time you may have them, is difficult to consider when you’re a teenager trying to live your life and discover your place in the world. The unique dynamics of “Suncoast”—coming-of-age meets the contemplation about death—a gentle, small-scale human drama from writer/director Laura Chinn, are sensitively rendered in her imperfect but touching feature-length debut. Life in mid-bloom, looming grief, and the purgatory of waiting are all explored in what is clearly an autobiographical drama. You can’t invent these scenarios if you haven’t lived through them, and given the emotional anguishes within—unimaginable to consider—it’s hard not to have great sympathy for the characters in this tender little tale, even when it’s a little formulaic and thin.
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Known for “The Last Of Us,” “Dumbo,” and “The Third Day,” Nico Parker stars as Doris, an awkward teenage girl who is essentially invisible to everyone around her, living without much agency (the daughter of Thandiwe Newton, it’s worth mentioning if only because she’s such a dead ringer for her mother). Without a father, she and her single mother struggle to make ends meet; all their money goes towards hospice care for her terminally-ill brother Max (Cree Kawa), or Doris’ Christian school, a faith her cynical mother has zero belief in but pays for regardless to keep her away from the troubled public school system nearby.
Doris’ mother, Kristine (Laura Linney, terrific), is audacious, bitter, and angry at the world. Widowed early on, her life has been one long, difficult struggle dedicated to taking care of her son Max, living with brain cancer for years but more or less comatose for far too long that any parent should endure. Doris has led an adolescence interrupted, essentially spending most of her life as her mother’s assistant and brother’s caretaker at the expense of her own personal growth. Stuck in their dire present, neither can move forward.
As Max enters hospice, nearing the end of his life, he is placed in the same convalescent home as Terri Schiavo, a real-life woman in a persistent vegetative state at the center of a right-to-die court case in the late ’90s and early aughts. It’s here where she meets Paul (Woody Harrelson), a Christian activist who has lost his wife and is among those campaigning against Schiavo’s husband’s wishes to let her die.
Harrelson’s character ought to be problematic, and the role is rather cliché— the seemingly magical outsider on the fringes whose positive life philosophies help the protagonist. But he imbues Paul’s loss with a real sense of empathy. The character’s not really protesting Schiavo’s right to die but is so stricken with his own heartache that he just does not want anyone to give up on anyone’s life (that may sound hackneyed, but his warmth is convincing).
Meanwhile, her overbearing mother rarely considers her—at one point, when asked if she has another child by a grief counselor, she says “no” and then quickly corrects herself. However, by chance Doris begins to come out of her shell when “friends” from school—a “Mean Girls”-esque clique featuring Ella Anderson, Daniella Taylor, and Ariel Martin, who seem predictable at first but turn out to be pleasant surprise of authentic teen girlhood and deliver some of the film’s finest comedic and sweet pleasures—use her as a means to have house parties as her mom spends most nights at the “Suncoast” care home watching over her comatose brother. A loner without friends, clearly, the girls are just exploiting Doris for their party digs. Still, surprisingly, they eventually display greater character and understanding than expected when Kristine comes home, discovers their partying schemes, and sh*t hits the fan.
Plotwise, “Suncoast” isn’t remarkable, and neither is the screenplay, which flirts with convention and platitudes throughout. In some regards, it resembles a feel-good “Little Miss Sunshine”-like drama that’s less entertaining due to its darker subject matter. Yet, each storyline is affecting, thanks to the performances and a simple, unobtrusive (if tentative) direction that lets them shine.  
Linney’s irritable character is so multi-dimensional. Cruel and insensitive to her daughter, she’s also a mother who’s led an entire thankless life, either caring for her invalid son and waiting for him to die while never for one second wanting to let go. Her grief is a grueling, protracted holding pattern, and you feel the weight of her complicated and despairing limbo.
Parker, too, is an equally divided character: grappling with familial duties, resenting her mother and ill brother for robbing her of a proper childhood, finally showing signs of unadulterated happiness when her social life finally brings her true delight, but still struggling with all the ways she hasn’t come to terms with her sibling’s impending passing. Harrelson’s is more of a stereotypical comic relief and wisdom delivery system tool. Still, his sweet, affable mien and relaxed performance make what might be banal on paper feel genuinely kindhearted.
This feeling arguably applies to a lot of “Suncoast.” It’s not the most sophisticated indie in document, and the script will leave you lacking. But the feels, and the vibes may produce tears thanks to the honest and vulnerably layered performances, Parker especially being an emotional stand-out for the audience’s sense of identification.
As the kids say, “Suncoast” might appear superficially “mid” for viewers craving something edgier. And to be fair, “Suncoast” won’t be for that audience; it can sometimes feel a little slight. But it also has a sincerity and depth of feeling that shouldn’t be overlooked. Parker, Linney, and Harrelson are all doing simple, effective work in the drama, with the young star clearly on her way to a bright future. If “Suncoast” ultimately lacks major insights, it is hard to argue that it at least combats its slenderness with a poignant sense of empathy and compassion for draining emotional hardships. Some grin and bear it, some are overcome by it, and some, if lucky, eventually find a way to live past and through it. [B-]
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Searchlight Pictures will release “Suncoast” on February 9, 2024, on Hulu.