It’s that magical time of year again, the start of movie awards season, when critics pretend to be classy while secretly justifying why they watched Cocaine Shark 2 “for research.” As for me, this is when I start bouncing between genres like a kid on too much Mountain Dew (as I sip one while I type this). One day I’m knee-deep in demon guts, the next I’m watching a heartfelt indie about people learning to love again through emotional trauma and Facebook friend requests.
Horror and action will always be my comfort zones, where explosions and screaming match my inner peace level. But every now and then, I like to experiment with something that tugs at the heartstrings instead of tearing them out. That’s how I ended up watching Bob Trevino Likes It, a movie that reminded me emotions exist and that sometimes the scariest thing in life isn’t a ghost, it’s a genuine human connection.
Bob Trevino Likes It follows Lily (Barbie Ferreira), a young woman who finds herself stuck in that awkward space between wanting her father’s (French Stewart) approval and realizing she may never get it. After one too many heartbreaks, she does what any emotionally exhausted millennial might do: she doomscrolls her way toward destiny.
While scrolling through Facebook, she stumbles upon a man (John Leguizamo) with the exact same name as her dad and sends him a friend request on a whim. What starts as a simple click turns into an unexpected friendship that fills the void her real father left behind.
What really caught me off guard was how warm and sincere this film is without ever feeling fake. It doesn’t manipulate your emotions with a swelling score or slow-motion hugs. It just quietly sneaks up and hits you right in the feelings. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a long-overdue phone call from someone who actually cares about you. Somewhere between the awkward Facebook messages and the surprisingly deep heart-to-hearts, I found myself tearing up more than once. Not the single dramatic tear kind either: the full “I hope no one walks in right now” kind of cry.
For a guy who usually prefers chainsaws and explosions, this film reminded me that sometimes emotional carnage hits harder than physical carnage.
The real heart of Bob Trevino Likes It comes from its two leads. Barbie Ferreira plays Lily with the perfect mix of sarcasm and vulnerability, like someone who’s been emotionally bruised, but still keeps receipts. John Leguizamo, meanwhile, slides into the role of Bob with the warmth of a man who’s seen some things and just wants to make you laugh through it. Together, they’ve got the kind of on-screen chemistry that feels less like acting and more like two people accidentally wandered into the same therapy session.
If I were handing out my own awards, I’d give them the Best Emotional Support Duo in a Non-Romantic Setting trophy, preferably shaped like a Facebook thumbs-up. Without this chemistry, the film wouldn’t land nearly as hard.
French Stewart’s version of the “real” Bob Trevino is intentionally rough around the edges, and that’s putting it politely. He’s the kind of dad who could turn a simple phone call into a passive-aggressive endurance test. The film makes it clear he’s not supposed to be a good guy. He’s the emotional splinter in Lily’s heart that never quite works its way out. But the way he’s written doesn’t leave much room for complexity.
He’s all cold shoulders and cutting remarks, which sometimes makes him feel more like a plot device than a person. I get what the movie was going for, but part of me wished he had even one redeeming or humanizing moment, just a flicker of warmth under all that bitterness. Without it, his scenes sometimes feel like a one-note reminder of why Lily went looking for affection on the internet in the first place.
As much as Bob Trevino Likes It earns most of its emotional moments, there’s no denying that by the final act it starts ladling on the sentimentality like gravy at a church potluck. What began as an honest, grounded story about loneliness and connection slowly edges into territory where every conversation feels like it’s chasing a big “movie moment.” It’s heartfelt, sure, but a few scenes cross that line between authentic emotion and “OK, I get it, we’re all healing here.”
I’m not made of stone (I cried earlier, remember) but by the end, I could practically feel the filmmakers winking at me, daring me to squeeze out just one more tear. It doesn’t ruin the film, but it does tip the balance from subtle sincerity to Hallmark-Channel-level catharsis for a few minutes.
I give Bob Trevino Likes It four out of five stars, and it absolutely deserves to be part of the awards season conversation. It’s the kind of small, sincere indie that often sneaks into voters’ hearts right when everyone else is arguing about billion-dollar blockbusters. The film’s emotional honesty, paired with standout performances from Barbie Ferreira and John Leguizamo, gives it genuine staying power. Even when it leans a little too hard into sentimentality, its warmth and authenticity win you back almost instantly.
Bob Trevino Likes It is a film about loneliness, connection and the families we build when our blood families let us down, and it delivers those themes with just enough humor and heart to earn its place among this year’s awards contenders.