The story takes place in 1982 in a Sicily full of prejudices and is inspired by a news item from the 1980s, the crime of "Giarre".

The film is dedicated to the two victims, "Giorgio Agatino Giammona" and "Antonio Galatola".

Nino is the eldest son of a family of fireworks manufacturers. He has just successfully completed high school and his loving family's gift to him is a moped on which he happily rides around the Sicilian countryside.

Gianni is a boy his age who returns from a reformatory and lives with his mother and stepfather, who gave him a job in her workshop and a roof over his head, but who treats him with constant contempt, going as far as 'to violence.

There are rumors in town that Gianni is gay and he is being harassed by the thugs who spend the day at the bar across the street.

Gianni and Nino meet following an accident. It's the spark that ignites a beautiful friendship that could lead to something much deeper But when rumors spread, the two families will turn against them: the two boys decide to face intolerance with courage.

The filmmaker takes all the time necessary to tell the story of the birth of this first love, using a classic visual grammar that highlights looks, hesitations and the magmatic flow of gestures and shared moments. Nino and Gianni create a strong and spontaneous alchemy that effortlessly engages the viewer's gaze, a harmony that overflows beyond the limits of the scenes and permeates the entire tone of the film like an aura. This loving harmony that shines like a celestial body, a solitary star in a hostile firmament, something beautiful but ephemeral like fireworks ("Fireworks" is the English title of the film and it is metaphorically the work of the father of Nino (whom the two teenagers will take care of during his illness) who is destined to disappear at any moment and who nevertheless persists, cannot stop shining despite the constant refusal of a space in which to survive.

This love seeks a possibility of recognition within a society that is maternal and passionate towards what it knows, but merciless towards what it does not yet understand. Nino and Gianni do not have this possibility: perhaps because the moment had not yet come, perhaps because of the responsibility of those who should have known how to love them unconditionally.

The film constantly walks the risky edge of melodrama but always manages - and with grace, with tenderness - not to fall into rhetoric or pathos. At the same time, Stranizza d'amuri also lives in everything it allows the viewer to imagine: the love of Gianni and Nino is dazzling, very short like a summer night; everything else, we imagine. Fiorello leaves it to the viewer to imagine; the love of Gianni and Nino is dazzling, very short like a summer night; everything else, we imagine: Hence the choice of the last scene which may displease but which I personally found successful.

For his debut Giuseppe Fiorelleo offers an eminently moving and sincere film, sober and of incontestable social value which introduces us to two young actors, "Samuele Segreto" and "Gabrielle Pizzuro" who deliver a magnificent performance (which reminded me that of "Jérémy Gillet" and "Julien de saint Jean" in "stop with your lies).

Beautiful, very beautiful cinema.

Intolerance against members of the gay community has long been a theme in LGBTQ+ cinema, one that has become so common that it's indeed familiar, if not overdone. However, when it's set in a historical context, it can be valuable for illustrating how far this segment of society has come (and in a relatively short time, too), as well as a legacy instructional tool for younger members of the community. Such is apparently the intent behind writer-director Giuseppe Fiorello's debut feature, a sincere effort at telling the fact-based story of a pair of teenage gay men (Gabriele Pizzuro, Samuele Segreto) in 1982 Sicily who face growing prejudice and harassment from locals and family members as their relationship begins to surface publicly. It's a bittersweet heart-tugging tale of friendship, love, courage and undue bigotry that genuinely strikes a chord of sympathy with viewers. However, with a runtime of 2:13:00, it's also needlessly long, especially at the outset, moving by at a snail's pace that begins to grow tiresome by the film's middle. The film also suffers from some uneven, inconsistent character development, making one wonder where some of its unexpected shifts in tone come from. Both of these issues are not entirely unexpected in the work of a first-time filmmaker, a creator who's still learning about knowing when to "kill one's darlings," an error a little more than apparent here. Admittedly, the film finishes strongly in the final act, especially in its chilling conclusion. Nevertheless, the picture could have easily been cut by about 20 minutes without losing anything, and the director would have been wise to pursue that course (perhaps he will next time). It's unfortunate that "Fireworks" ends up getting bogged down by its own narrative in light of the strength of its story and the importance of its message. We can never be reminded too much of where we've been so that we can avoid going back there again - and reliving the indignities that our predecessors had to endure.