Bo Burnham has long been celebrated for his innovative, cerebral, and socially conscious musical comedy, so it makes sense that his feature film debut (as both writer and director), Eighth Grade, arrives with great expectations. Following in the footsteps of recent coming-of-age movies (with female protagonists) like The Edge of Seventeen and Lady Bird—both great in their own ways—his thoughtful tale of a pubescent girl navigating bonds with classmates, family, and most importantly, herself during graduation week sounds a bit familiar on paper. Yet, like those examples (and other standouts from the subgenre), it’s what Burnham does differently and effectively that allows Eighth Grade to excel. Filled with understated yet richly poignant writing and acting, as well as modestly inventive directing and framing, the film is a consistently heartfelt, funny, and wise analysis of modern adolescent life that every viewer will relate to—and thus, cringe at—on some level.

Without delving too far into details, the plot revolves around Kayla Day (Elsie Fisher), a socially clumsy pre-teen whose daily struggles—making friends, being nervous around boys, worrying about entering high school, dealing with the perceived banality of her father—are, to be fair, your standard conflicts for this type of story. That said, they’re clichés precisely because they’re universal (so it’d feel disingenuous if Burnham didn’t touch upon them), and even some of the foreseeable resolutions succeed because they feel endearingly earnest and earned. (He even uses misdirection to circumvent predictability at one point, which is commendably clever and fresh.)

Burnham’s attention to detail is strong when it comes to examining the lifestyles and mindsets of his characters, too. Be it off-the-cuff remarks (like students mocking adults who dab and call things “lit”) and Snapchat filters or bigger, more adult situations (such as an uncomfortable gathering at a mall and a take on oral sex education that evokes the seminal Fast Times at Ridgemont High), the world that he’s built feels extremely genuine and meticulously arranged. This is perhaps best represented early on, when Kayla’s dad (Josh Hamilton) tries to bond with her at dinner, only to be tuned out—and eventually accosted— in favor of her music and friends list. Likewise, we frequently see her posting self-help YouTube videos (with almost no viewership); this not only touches upon a chief aspect of current digital ethos but also offers key insights into her personality and perceptions.

Of course, the substance of the movie would fall flat if not for its resilient acting. Everyone plays their part with subtle authenticity, and Jake Ryan deserves a special nod for portraying Gabe, an equally peculiar foil for Kayla who feels plucked straight out of a Wes Anderson film (in fact, they first meet in a pool scene that kind of evokes Rushmore). Naturally, Hamilton stands out due to the weight of his role, and he nails playing the archetypical father who uses humor to mask his parental hesitancies. As you’d guess, Fisher’s performance is the highlight of the bunch, as she leads with remarkable depth and lovable awkwardness to generate a fully realized person on which every viewer can project themselves. (Arguably the best scene for she and Hamilton is a shared moment of catharsis and understanding around a campfire.)

Fortunately, Burnham proves quite interesting when it comes to shooting and structuring Eighth Grade. While there’s nothing especially showy to his style, he definitely uses slow-mo, tracking shots, close-ups, and the like very well—especially in conjunction with a recurring synth soundtrack that adds idiosyncratic continuity. The most transparent and useful technique he tries is repeatedly overlapping Kayla's YouTube speeches with glimpses of her struggling to take her own advice. (For example, her voiceover about confidence work in tandem with her hesitantly singing karaoke in front of classmates.) These traits allow the film to feel mildly episodic while also flowing as a single cohesive tale; likewise, they mark Burnham as a promising auteur.

Aside from its slight narrative familiarity, the only real issue with the movie is entirely dependent on the viewer’s expectations. Like Richard Linklater’s Boyhood, Eighth Grade is driven by character far more than plot, so while there are light arcs to some events, Burnham focuses primarily on marginally connected scenes that cumulatively paint a portrait of Kayla and her ancillary relationships. This definitely works to achieve a fly-on-the-wall means of studying the characters as starkly as possible, ye those looking for a deeper, more eventful storyline and quicker pacing may end up a bit dissatisfied.

Eighth Grade offers plenty of uncomfortable laughs and even more uncomfortable truths as it observes how modern youth culture internalizes insecurities, engages with social media, and reconciles the unmet potentials of the past with the disappoints of the present and the guarded hopes for the future. It’s not necessarily the best cinematic coming-of-age tale in recent memory, but it etches out enough of its own identity in the midst of tackling universal themes to rank alongside them. Even more, it’s a great showcase for its budding main star and filmmaker.