In Bonus Track, the directorial debut of Julia Jackman, the tender, cringeworthy chaos of adolescence takes center stage in a heartfelt story about music, identity, and first love.

 

Created by Josh O’Connor and Mike Gilbert, the film sits comfortably alongside the likes of John Carney’s Sing Street and Once – unpolished yet irresistibly earnest, and brimming with awkward charm and a killer soundtrack.

 

Set in a sleepy British town circa 2006, the story follows George (Joe Anders), a gawky high schooler whose social and academic ineptitude are eclipsed only by his obsessive love of music. George isn’t a prodigy by any means – early scenes show him fumbling through keyboard notes while his music teacher rolls his eyes – but music is both his refuge and his dream. His parents, played by Jack Davenport and Alison Sudol, are a mismatched pair: a stern, unsupportive dad and a free-spirited, ever-encouraging mom who provide both comic relief and quiet poignancy.

 

Enter Max (Samuel Small), the charismatic son of a famous pop duo who transfers to George’s school mid-year. Max is everything George isn’t – cool, confident, and utterly at ease with himself. Max is drawn to George’s unassuming, unpolished energy, sparking an unlikely friendship that evolves into something deeper. Small and Anders deliver performances that are as awkwardly endearing as the characters they portray, exuding chemistry in every stammered word and sideways glance.

 

Jackman handles the budding relationship with a light but intentional touch, allowing moments to breathe while infusing humor in all the right places. There’s a refreshing honesty to the way their bond unfolds – George’s tentative steps toward self-discovery, Max’s gentle encouragement, and the inevitability of conflict to be overcome. The film champions authenticity, urging viewers to embrace their passions and identities without shame, a message that resonates without ever feeling preachy.

​

Musically, Bonus Track doesn’t hang on a single genre, instead offering a diverse soundtrack that mirrors George’s messy but heartfelt relationship with his art. The songs don’t overpower the narrative but instead underscore the emotional beats, lending the film an organic and unpretentious rhythm. The movie also deftly evades a common misstep of similar movies by nailing the big musical finish with an absolute banger. 

​

While it doesn’t reinvent the coming-of-age genre, Bonus Track earns its place among indie gems with its sincerity and wit. The humor, at times reminiscent of Napoleon Dynamite in the way it pulls laughs from uncomfortable situations, thrives on cringe comedy and the quirky absurdity of its characters, but never veers into caricature. It’s a film that celebrates imperfection – in people, in art, and in life itself.

 

Clocking in at a breezy 90 minutes, Bonus Track is a love letter to those fumbling teenage years, where everything feels monumental, and every emotion is dialed to 11. It’s not a blockbuster, but that’s precisely what makes it special. It’s a sleeper hit for anyone who’s ever found solace in a mixtape or shared a moment of unspoken connection over a shared melody.

This is a film for the dreamers, the misfits, and anyone who knows what it’s like to feel a little out of tune with the world. If you’ve ever rooted for an underdog, fallen in love with a song, or simply longed to belong, Bonus Track will strike a powerful chord.