The coming-out story is way passé, queer culture mavens have proclaimed. But apparently Tennyson Bardwell, creator of the delightful new coming-of-age film, Dorian Blues, never got the memo. Was he in a coma these last few years?

No, the first-time filmmaker has a better excuse. He’s straight.

And maybe that helps explain the film’s wide-eyed, universal appeal. Because Bardwell had never seen a coming-out flick before, he was not encumbered by the baggage of the past or the need to evolve gay cinema. He simply had a story to tell.

On paper, Dorian Blues sure reads like a cliché. There’s Dorian (Michael McMillian), the prettyboy teen prone to sitting solo at the cafeteria lunch table, who relies on wit to survive among the “Neanderthal” jocks and later bolts to New York City to find himself.  There’s the crusty, homophobic Dad (Steven Fletcher) and the preoccupied Mom (Mo Quigley).  There’s the studly star athlete of a brother, Nicky (Lea Coco) who freaks when he learns of Dorian’s “choice.”

Despite his utter lack of experience (and a likewise green production unit and lead actors), a paltry budget of $180,000, and a host of other hurdles, Bardwell has crafted a fairly accomplished and charmingly fresh tale.  A superb cast, wry dialogue, likable characters, and snappy directorial flourishes help elevate the film beyond stereotype.

Employing flashbacks and the ubiquitous yet highly engaging “snarky voiceover” technique (Think Carrie Bradshaw in Sex and the City), this sweetly amusing memory piece traces Dorian’s struggle to come to terms with his emerging sexuality.  He is envious of his ultra-popular kid bro, the “quarterback king with a big dick to boot,” who gives Dorian hetero lessons in a futile attempt to morph him from “fabulous” to “awesome.”

“I think I can help you get this monkey off your back,” Nicky says, with naïve resolve.

A jittery visit to a female prostitute—a gift from Nicky—climaxes not with orgasm, but with a Busby Berkeley dance routine. A first gay encounter with a classmate even dorkier than he is leaves Dorian frantically brushing his teeth; the second hookup leaves him barfing in the bathroom sink.

When he moves to New York all is bliss, for a short while, anyway.  Here the comedic tone downshifts, as Dorian learns to pay a price for independence, and for his lingering resentment towards his family and the world at large.

At the heart of the story beats the complex love-hate relationship between Dorian and Nicky, one of the more poignant portrayals of sibling rivalry I’ve seen captured on film.  The comically gifted McMillian, who is haplessly charming as Dorian, strikes a supple balance between clown and victim.  Coco, despite coming across as too old to be Dorian’s younger bro, brings surprising depth to his role as the favorite son caught between his love of normalcy and love for his queer brother.