Fireworks (2023) – A Love Louder Than Fireworks
June 1982, Sicily. While Italians dream of winning the World Cup, two adolescents dream of living their love story without fear.
You think you’re in for another nostalgic summer film? Think again. Fireworks (Stranizza d’amuri) is anything but a postcard from the past. It’s more like a punch in the gut wrapped in sunlight and gunpowder.
When sparks become fire
Gianni is the shy outcast, already marked by his town as “the gay one.” Nino is the charming, rugged boy from a fireworks-making family. Their worlds collide (literally, with mopeds) and what starts as a summer friendship slowly ignites into something deeper. Something they don’t yet know how to name. But the town knows. And the town doesn’t like it.
Between stolen glances and afternoons in the firework shop, the two boys build their own secret universe. But nothing stays secret in small towns, especially not in 1980s Sicily. The whispers start, then the threats, and soon, violence erupts – not from strangers, but from their own families.
The burden of blood ties
What makes Fireworks so painfully real is its portrayal of families. They’re not cartoonish villains. They’re tired, scared, trying to survive in a world that doesn’t leave much room for softness. Gianni’s mother is suffocating in silence. Nino’s parents love him, but love isn’t always protection — especially when it’s twisted by fear and social shame.
There’s a café scene that’ll stick with you — not for what’s said, but for what it costs one boy just to exist in front of others. And yet, he keeps showing up. He keeps trying. That’s the real revolution.
Love, but not a fairytale
This isn’t a “coming out” story. It’s a “coming up for air” story. A tale of two kids trying to breathe in a place where everything — from religion to reputation — is trying to drown them. There’s no rainbow at the end. There’s only a World Cup victory on the TV and two lives quietly falling apart offscreen.
The juxtaposition of Italy’s national triumph and the boys’ personal tragedy is devastating. And honest. Because that’s often how life works — the world celebrates while someone’s heart is breaking, quietly.
Giuseppe Fiorello’s Fireworks is not flashy despite its title. It’s tender, slow-burning, and utterly human. It doesn’t preach, it doesn’t try to “teach you a lesson.” It just lays it all out: love, fear, loyalty, shame — and the unbearable cost of silence.
Watch this film. Not because it’s “important” or “about gay issues” — but because it shows what happens when love becomes a threat. Because in the end, two boys fell in love and the world exploded around them. And that’s a story that still matters.
