First impressions of Mile End Kicks (2026)
This movie makes explicit, adoring references to Almost Famous. But it is no Almost Famous.
In the most romantic moment of writer-director Chandler Levack’s Mile End Kicks, Grace, our Little Music Critic Who Could, reveals to a guy crushing on her that cantaloupe is her favorite melon. Cantaloupe, mind you, is widely regarded as one of the foods most likely to be contaminated with things like listeria and salmonella. So, yeah — that certainly seems likely to be this character’s favorite thing, because Grace’s taste in guys could be defined as “Which of these losers is most likely to hurt me, abuse me, slander me behind my back, and/or put me in the hospital? And how quickly and embarrassingly can I throw myself at that guy and start licking his face?”
Does Grace suffer consequences for her misguided choices? Yes. Does she grow? Arguably, yes. But is this a coming-of-age story in which a character’s enlightenment and growth makes the unpleasantness of their errors worthy of our attention? I’m skeptical. Given that I spent the duration of Mile End Kicks cringing and recoiling from what some might kindly call “the folly of youth,” I can’t say I’m glad I watched this film.
And that surprises me. Mile End Kicks announced itself in a way that assured me it was my kind of movie. It’s about so many things I care about. Live music. Music criticism. Feminism. The search for true love. The generative qualities of creative communities. The treasure-hunt qualities of open mics. The discernment involved in separating the artists from the posers. Also: It stars Barbie Ferreira, whose performance in the underrated Bob Trevino Likes It convinced me that we might be seeing a major star on the rise.
Why was this, for me, the year’s biggest disappointment so far? (You can check it out for yourself right at home — it’s now available for rental on various popular streaming services.)
The premise intrigued me:
Grace is a 20-something music critic learning things the hard way in the worlds of independence, young love, journalism, and the Montreal music scene. She needs to break away from the bubble of her childhood (where she’s predictably straining against her parents’ concerns) and a rookie-gig at the music magazine Merge Weekly (where she is exploited by a misogynistic editor). And so, when she secures a contract to add a volume to the 33 1/2 series, that beloved collection of album-specific studies, focusing on the importance of Alanis Morisette’s Jagged Little Pill, she packs her suitcase and heads to Montreal. It’s her big break — a chance to fulfill her journalistic potential and earn some respect for her critical acumen. Can she meet the deadline?
But Grace wants a whole lot more than just R-E-S-P-E-C-T in the world of indie rock. Her Monreal to-do list includes the task “Have actual sex.” And as she’s venturing into the movie’s version of the Montreal club scene in the early 2010s, where her chances of finding a meaningful relationship seem grim, she makes things even worse for herself. Grace, it turns out, has terrible judgment when it comes to men. And worse, she acts on her first impulses, catapulting herself into compromising and humiliating situations.
First, she meets the awkward but endearing Archie (Devon Bostick), guitarist for a promising indie band called Bone Patrol. And even thou he seems immediately taken with her, she exploits his obvious affection in order to get closer to the band’s apparently charming lead singer, Chevy (Stanley Simons), even though her French-Canadian flat-mate Madeleine (Juliette Gariépy) calls him “the worst guy in Montreal.”
In her reckless pursuit of Chevy, Grace neglects her limited financial resources, tramples the trust of her friends, loses momentum on her book project, and sets herself up for harm and heartbreak.
I want to be sympathetic here. Like Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous, a classic that this movie is practically begging critics to favorably compare it with, Mile End Kicks reminds me of my own early attempts to contribute to critical conversations about the arts, conversations that mattered. When I was Grace’s age, I too was an ambitious music critic who acted on impulse and intuition instead of strategy and professional procedure. With swagger and presumption, I wandered in and out of places where I had almost zero credentials. And at the same time, in my romantic idealism, I made some disastrous relationship choices. To some extent, I recognize Grace as a kindred spirit, a familiar mess.
But even so, how am I supposed to respect as legitimate any music-critic character who listens to even one of Bone Patrol’s songs in this film and considers them worthy of a major spotlight? The key to great criticism is critical discernment, and while Grace has some admirable perspective on Alanis Morisette, she seems inclined to embrace rather dubious new bands.
Maybe we’re supposed to laugh at how blind Grace is to the awfulness of Chevy’s lyrics, music, and stage presence. But if so, why are we supposed to root for her in her quest to make a career as a critic and a writer? Similarly, how can we get invested in her quest for meaningful love when she’s ignoring all red flags and throwing herself at the character who seems most likely to take advantage of her?
Methinks that while it’s obvious men are mistreating Grace — the most painful shock she suffers is a moment clearly modeled after the moment when Kate Hudson’s Penny Lane in Almost Famous realizes how badly she’s been betrayed — the Worst Males of the Species are not her biggest obstacle to succeeding as a writer. Grace shows almost no capacity for adhering to the disciplines necessary to fulfill a publishing contract. And I don’t care if you've published 400 articles for a magazine, as Grace boasts that she has; quantity has very little to do with quality. (Grace’s prolific publishing may say more about the judgment of her editors than it does about her work.) But if I were Grace, I’d want to become a champion for bands that demonstrate more than just basic musical competence. I’d want to invest in a group with imagination, vision, maturity, and wisdom.
I suspect that women who resonate strongly with Grace’s struggles to gain a foothold in a male-dominated industry will conclude that I’m being insensitive to Grace’s plight. I don’t believe that’s the case here. I believe that if they survey my film-review record, they’ll find my strong feminist convictions undeniable. And anyway, I want Grace to succeed. The men in her life range from shrug-worthy to monstrous. She deserves a chance to establish herself without exploitation. She should have every chance to earn respect. When she’s challenged to pitch her idea for a book on Alanis Morissette, we can see her potential. I want to believe in her.
However, at almost every turn in this relentlessly cringe-y character study, Grace shows alarmingly poor judgment. It’s easy to see that she is not yet ready to go out into the world on her own. If you want your audiences to come away from this movie caring about how women are mistreated and disrespected in almost any male-dominated context, you’re probably don’t want us to spend most of the movie gaping at the screen and screaming “Grace, why?!” It’s hard to hope that our young adventurer will catch a train when she seems convinced that the way to do so is to throw herself in front of them.
Perhaps I should be more respectful, as this movie is apparently based on a true story. I have to believe that the true story is about a better writer, a more discerning critic, a band that was better than this one, and characters who were capable of occasionally making better choices. I hope so, anyway. Because I suspect that Levack and I would have a lot to talk about if we ever got the chance to share stories about our early days in writing about music and learning about love. When Fairuza Balk’s groupie-girl Sapphire, in Almost Famous, talks about what it means “to truly love some silly little piece of music, or some band, so much that it hurts,” I know exactly what she’s talking about. And the movie in which Sapphire shines captures that spirit — it rekindles my love for music and for music criticism whenever I watch it.
By contrast, after watching Mile End Kicks, while I wish I felt optimistic that Grace will find her way, instead I just feel like I need a shower. And that shower will be Almost Famous.