New York City has the potential to either bring out the best in a person or break them. This city that never sleeps is a central character in Loud & Longing, a film that acts as a cinematic love letter to NYC and the brave dreamers who call it home. For as opportunity-riddled as the concrete jungle can be, many aspirational artists have been met with a reality check that threatens to crush their ambition and overall outlook on life. As this micro-indie shows, it helps to have a chosen family that understands the entrepreneurial struggle and can offer support throughout the inevitable highs and lows.

The ultra-low-budget film from directors Isabel Ellison and Ryan Guiterman tackles the darker side of chasing a dream while still weighed down by unprocessed baggage. Lucy (director Isabel Ellison) and Lucien (Sam Encarnación) are childhood friends in their early thirties who find themselves together in New York. Each a creative on the verge of a career breakthrough, Lucy, an actor, and Lucien, an artist, also share a trauma bond that emerges from the shadows when her cousin Matt (Max Carpenter) shows up in town. Matt brings with him the reminder of a shared painful history, one that includes abuse, addiction, and loss. But even in the darkest of moments, Lucy and Lucien keep their head above water with the support of their friends.

A diverse cast of queer and trans millennials creates the film’s emotional heartbeat, in a similar fashion to Jonathan Larson’s eclectic cast of Rent. All struggling with something, it’s only through unwavering friendship that Lucy and Lucien are able to survive their worst moments. The themes of recovery and reclaiming one’s identity ring true throughout the leaden script from writers Isabel Ellison and Brian Otaño.

Loud & Longing has a 2010’s arthouse quality to it and presents in a similar style to the Safdie brothers’ 2014 film Heaven Knows What. Stripped back of any superfluous characteristics, Loud & Longing is bare-bones but still manages to keep its edge. This aesthetic works in terms of building the world within the film but faces problems when it comes to the literal viewing of it. Dipping into questionable sound quality and mixing, the film’s light and fluid nature comes to an abrupt halt when technical inconsistencies occur. Gaffes aside, Loud & Longing ultimately succeeds as an ode to the misfit and a prudent reminder that we are not an island, and should consider ourselves fortunate to have a friend in our corner.