‘Enzo’ is a coming-of-age drama with some interesting observations about class, aspiration and the search for identity. It opens on a building site, where a disaffected sixteen-year-old is working alongside a group of Ukrainian labourers. He’s not particularly good at the job, and when the foreman demands to see his parents, we discover the central paradox of the film. Enzo (Eloy Pohu) comes from a wealthy family, lives in a spacious house with a swimming pool, and has opportunities many people would envy. Yet here he is, having dropped out of school and insisting on spending his days on a construction site.

That contradiction is what initially makes the character intriguing. Enzo clearly feels he belongs somewhere other than the privileged world he has inherited, but he doesn’t seem entirely sure where that place is. He rejects the path laid out for him, though the film deliberately leaves us uncertain as to what he is actually searching for instead.

Much of the story revolves around his growing fascination with Vlad (Maksym Slivinskyi), a Ukrainian worker facing a genuine dilemma about whether to remain in France or return home to fight in the war. Compared with Vlad’s circumstances, Enzo’s life appears sheltered and comfortable, and he becomes drawn to the intensity and purpose that Vlad’s situation represents. There is an admiration there, perhaps even a longing for a life that feels more meaningful than his own.

The film occasionally gestures toward themes of masculinity, adolescence and male bonding in the workplace. There is a closeness between Enzo and Vlad that carries an emotional charge, even though the relationship is not presented as romantic. Yet the film never fully commits to exploring those ideas in depth. It often feels as though it is reaching toward something profound without quite identifying what that thing is.

In that respect, it reminded me of a pale version of ‘Rebel Without a Cause’. Like that film, it centres on a young man who feels disconnected from the world around him and unable to articulate exactly why. The difference is that Enzo is much quieter and more ambiguous in its intentions.

One of the film’s strengths is that it prioritizes character over plot. There are no major revelations or dramatic turning points. Instead, we spend time observing a young man trying to make sense of himself. Enzo is defined less by what he wants than by what he rejects, and that uncertainty becomes the film’s central subject.

I’m not convinced the film entirely knows what conclusion it wants to reach, and as a result it can feel somewhat directionless. Yet there is still something compelling about watching a character who has every apparent advantage struggle to find meaning and purpose. The film may not offer clear answers, but perhaps that uncertainty is itself part of the point.