Given my penchant for lesbian period pieces, Summerland captured my interest early on in its production. A World War II period drama boasting the talent of Gemma Arterton with a lesbian storyline is my quintessential trifecta. Devastatingly romantic, heart-wrenchingly sweet and deliciously escapist, Summerland is the next film in lesbian cinema you need to devour.

***This review contains spoilers for Summerland***

As the height of the London Blitz rages on during World War II, Alice Lamb sits quietly clacking away at her typewriter, tucked safely away in her cozy seaside cottage in Kent. A village outcast who is called, “the witch,” or the “beach bitch” (call me beach bitch anytime, what a compliment) from some particularly shameless neighbors, Alice just wants to be left alone in myths, folklore, and history, writing tales about Morgan Le Fay and the Pagan afterlife. Her solitude and plans to recluse forever by the sea are derailed when she is forced to take in a young boy, a refugee from a family in London who is living in the danger zone. Painfully reluctant, Alice greets the young Frank with a harsh bristle. Her toughness gradually evolves into begrudging affection and eventually sympathetic sentimentality when she realizes that Frank reminds her of an old lost love: a woman from her past named Vera. The question of Alice’s bitterness and self-imposed loneliness begins to answer itself as the film divulges into a series of poignant flashbacks between Alice and Vera, while in the present timeline, Frank begins to work his way into Alice’s heart and home.

The film starts off predictably, with the familiar story of a hardened caretaker with a secret heart of gold. As Alice forms a genuine connection with Frank, charmed by his sharp inquisitive, and sensitive nature, her prickly persona melts away and Alice’s window to the world begins to pry open. Most of Summerland coasts at this baseline, with the anticipated ups and downs of Alice and Frank navigating their peculiar new living arrangement. The film’s climax, however, reveals a twist that sent me reeling and the film careening into a new direction. While rummaging through Frank’s belongings, Alice discovers a scrapbook that reveals that Frank’s mother is none other than Vera, the bohemian beauty from Alice’s past. Yes, it’s tidy. Yes, it’s a little far-fetched that Vera, the woman who broke Alice’s heart and seemingly lost all contact with her somehow deposited her preteen son into a refugee foster program with the destination set to Alice’s beachside abode. But ultimately, the romantic in me won out and I was on board with the new layer of the film: the possibility of a love reawakened.

The production of the film ties everything together, from the impossibly chic costume design to the lush cinematography, which is without a doubt the greatest highlight. While the present-day timeline reflects the coldness of a British period piece, with Alice stuffily writing her “academic theses” and hermit-ting away in solitude, Alice’s flashbacks are full of warmth and vibrant color. The scenes between Alice and Vera are absolutely dazzling and are like looking through the lens of an intimate, kaleidoscopic memory. The cinematography is so well done that the dialogue yields the burden of having to describe in words the passionate love between Alice and Vera—you just feel it. They can be arguing over directions or talking about their ugly toes but damn, isn’t frolicking around in that sunny field of wheat just the romantic vision of your dreams?

While the relationship between Alice and Vera seems to exist inside a bubble in the backdrop of the 1920’s, it is refreshing to have the film focus on a lesbian couple’s predicament that doesn’t center around their sexualities, but the desire to have a family instead. Writer/director Jessica Swale said in an interview with the Daily news: “It’s very rare to see a story about two lesbians in a period drama where what drives them apart isn’t how difficult it is to be gay.” Summerland may feel like a page out of a folklore story to some, but it’s not the retread some are insisting it is. What is tired is seeing the same old sad stories of homophobia so thick that the characters die or end up alone and sad; Summerland offers a brighter future for lesbian cannon.

Summerland is queer without having to talk about the tribulations of queerness. It’s racially diverse but doesn’t focus on the hardships of being non-white while living in Britain in the 20th century. It lets the story and relationship between Alice and Vera exist through the lens of acceptance. But that doesn’t mean that the celebration of diversity had no place in the creation of the film. Director Jessica Swale said in an interview with The Helm, “I’m very focused on having as many women involved in the film as possible and creating a diverse team”—which is likely why the storytelling in Summerland feels so fresh.

Summerland is the directorial debut of playwright Jessica Swale, whose theatrical background shines in the way that her writing almost seems adapted from a classic novel. It’s evident from the impressive performance by Gemma Arterton (Alice) that the two have worked closely together in the past (on Swale’s 2016 play, Neil Gwynn) as Arterton captivates, deftly transitioning between Alice of the past and the cantankerous and curmudgeonly character of the present. But the noteworthy performances don’t stop there—young Frank, played by Lucas Bond, is an absolute delight and gives an outstanding performance from start to finish. Ardent and lovable, quick-witted and so darling in his little yellow birthday beanie that it physically hurts, his impact on the film cannot be overstated—especially when juxtaposing his joyous innocence against Alice’s unabashed impertinence.

While Summerland has many pleasures, there is a criticism to be had in the amount of screen time given to the flashback timeline between Alice and Vera. The chemistry between Gemma Arterton (Alice) and Gugu Mbatha-Raw (Vera) is so palpable that I would have signed on for a few more emotional moments (okay, a lot more than a few), sacrificing some of the grumpy and heartless exposition of Alice. (We get it—she’s rude and children creep her out!) Though the film accomplished all that was needed for its narrative structure in the quick glimpses of the flashback scenes, it could have certainly afforded a little more buildup for the heartbreaking scene of Vera walking out on Alice. That heartbreak didn’t feel totally earned, but I’ll give it to them.

Summerland is an utterly heart-wrenching film that roots deeply in nostalgia, which is why its hopeful, fairy-tale ending pays off. A happy ending is a rarity in lesbian storytelling, especially one that resolves with two adorably spicy old women who have decades of history and heartbreak behind them. I especially love a movie that can pull off opening from its ending, a la the infamous lesbian classic film, Carol. In Summerland’s final moments, when the camera pans away from elderly Alice and her typewriter to Vera entering the room, my heart swelled, tears cascaded, and I turned to my wife and said, “They ended up together!” Which is something that every lesbian should be able to say at the end of a movie every now and then.

Summerland is available to rent on Amazon Prime.