Adolescence. The time when everything feels possible, and life feels the most free. But adolescence is also a transitional period in which the youth comes to the realization that not everything is possible, and the liberty is an illusion. These complex ideas are brilliantly presented in Samuel Kishi's directorial debut "Somos Mari Pepa."

The Mexican film tells the story of 16-year-old Alex who has a lot of plans for the summer. He wants to write a new song with his rock band, get a job and even meet a girl. But as the summer unfolds, Alex must not only come to terms with outside forces but also assume the responsibility of caring for his increasingly dependent grandmother.

The film is filled with a tremendous sense of nostalgia, from its opening frame to its last. The opening montage showcases home video footage of Alex and his friends fooling around in the summer and ends with their singing a rather vulgar song to an empty audience in a park. Kishi returns to this home video approach at major touchstone moments in the film, including Alex's first sexual experience and his remembrance of an important person in his life. But nostalgia also echoes through the old records that his grandmother plays throughout the film.

In one of the more comical sequences, Alex attempts to jam on his guitar but is interrupted by the loud sound of his grandmother's record player. He tried to turn the volume down but ultimately finds himself in the same situation. He is thus forced to shut the music off altogether.

This sequence also highlights the two lives that Alex leads. He leads a quiet, even repetitive one at home with his grandmother and a more active and loud one with his friends in the streets. The sequences at home are almost reverential and ritualized in their execution. They feature a number of recurring images, including one of Alex's grandmother serving him food in the kitchen as he looks on; a close-up of the record player's needle also makes multiple appearances. There is no dialogue between the two save for Alex uttering the word "Abuela" with different subtext attached to each repetition.

Conversely, the scenes with his friends feature loud rock music with explicit sexuality, as well as more varied camera techniques and montages. Dialogue is prevalent throughout these sequences with Alex and his friends using every vulgar word in the Spanish language.

Keshi also manages to add a similar depth to Alex's friend Rafa and his life at home. Throughout those sequences, dialogue is also sparse, but it gives an indication that women are the rulers of the household and thus emphasizes Rafa's own sense of lost identity.

The film does not have a traditional plot and takes on a more episodic nature. Alex slowly finds himself without his friends and engages in an array of different adventures that introduce him to other people. While the structure meanders at first, it slowly takes form as the responsibilities of adulthood take hold and the excitement dies down. Silence starts to dominate Alex's world until his friends become little more than a memory, and the exciting plans he hoped to achieve go by the wayside.

The performances are top notch, especially that of leading actor Alejandro Gallardo, whose timid portrayal emphasizes the vulnerability of Alex and his helplessness. His eyes express the depth of his loneliness and his search for an identity. Petra Robles never utters a word of dialogue as Alex's grandmother, but her physicality hits all the right emotional beats.

The end of the "Somos Mari Pepa" is a grand ode to youth and adolescence, but it does not leave the viewer with a truly valedictory feeling. There is certainly a sense that youth is unforgettable and beautiful in its own right. But Alex's journey serves to express the notion that there is a powerlessness that comes with maturity -- a sense that despite one's attempts to remain free from responsibility, real life will inevitably take over.