Parents' Guide to How I Learned to Fly

Gentle and deeply compassionate, this drama manages to depict harsh realities without being harsh itself, focusing on hope and change. How I Learned to Fly begins with a striking sequence: Daniel sees something in the kitchen that shocks him, he picks up his phone, dials 9-1-… and stops. He realizes -- and viewers may, too, that what he's doing could result in more trouble rather than solutions. Writer/director Simon Steuri (who is White and Swiss) provides plenty of real-world threat in the film, including Eli having his shoes stolen and a jaw-dropping scene involving Daniel and the brothers' (clearly abusive) father (Method Man, in a blistering performance).

But all of this is contrasted with moments of kindness, such as an interaction with a White police officer or when Yaya (Michele Selene Ang) lets the boys shower in her laundromat. A list of "rules" first written on the boys' ceiling and later on the roof of their car -- "We don't lie," "We wash our clothes," "We do our homework," etc. -- becomes a sweet, special, unspoken, ongoing dialogue. And there are exquisite moments of magical realism, such as the boys burning a box of "Bad Memories" and Daniel's terrifying dreams of falling slowly turning into dreams of floating and flying. A gorgeous, soulful score full of old-timey-sounding R&B and jazz helps the delicate mood, prompting comparisons to Moonlight and Imperial Dreams). How I Learned to Fly is a beautiful movie; it's unafraid of tragedy, but it's equally unafraid of hope.