Existing somewhere between ethereal fantasy, beautifully shot documentary, and home movie, We the Animals weaves a delicate tale that enchants far beyond what its wafer-thin narrative — and waifish protagonist — would suggest. Not in recent memory has a movie as slow-burning, as spare of content, as light of foot made such an indelible impact.

Based on Justin Torres’ eponymous and semi-autobiographical novel, We the Animals (★★★★) is a coming-of-age tale about the youngest of three brothers realizing both his outsider status in his own family and his own inherent queerness. Jeremiah Zagar’s film, co-written with Dan Kitrosser, leans heavily on Zagar’s background in short and documentary filmmaking, distilling Torres’ book — told like a series of memories, offering details on his upbringing from naive youngster to ostracized gay man — into the first stages of lead character Jonah’s sexual awakening.

In both content and character, We the Animals plays like an extended cut of the first act of Barry Jenkins’ masterful Moonlight. But where Chiron’s story was bleak from the outset, Jonah’s begins in the dreamlike world that most nine-year-olds inhabit. In a cramped house in rural New York, Jonah lives with his two older brothers and their mother and father, the boys left by their working parents to roam like feral animals in the countryside around their house. But as the boys run, scream, and play, Zagar gradually teases out the reality behind the scenes, of a struggling working class family, of a Puerto Rican father who got their white mother pregnant before fleeing Brooklyn to try and forge a life upstate, of mixed-race boys who feel like outsiders in their predominantly white town, of an impulsive, abusive patriarch whose emotions can turn on a dime.

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As Jonah, newcomer Evan Rosado delivers a commanding performance. Much like Moonlight‘s Alex Hibbert, he tells the majority of his character’s transformation through expression, his pale eyes wide and naive at the film’s start, sure and determined by its end. Any pretense of an idyllic childhood is shattered, and Jonah’s naivety slowly starts to fade, after Paps beats Ma and then storms out the door, sending her spiralling into depression and forcing the boys to fend for themselves until he returns.

The family’s struggles, their parents’ mood swings, and each bump in the road further corrodes the three boys’ innocence and youthfulness. But while his older brothers Manny and Joel (Isaiah Kristian and Josiah Gabriel) start to emulate their father — rebelling, swearing, letting their emotions get the better of them — Jonah retreats into his imagination and the journal he frantically writes and draws in at night while the others sleep. These segments are told through crude, childlike animation, and offer abstract insight into Jonah’s understanding of the world around him — his limited grasp of sex, his burgeoning sexuality, his interpretations of the actions of his parents and brothers.

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Jonah’s world truly changes when the boys, hungry and attempting to steal from a nearby farmer, meet the farmer’s grandson, who introduces them to porn — straight porn, lesbian porn, even gay porn. In Jonah, both as he watches the men and as he looks at the grandson, something starts to click. And with it, the disconnect from his boisterous older brothers, from his mother and father, and from his childhood, begins.

Zagar’s film does all of this with a deliberate paucity of dialogue. These are Jonah’s memories, glimpses of his upbringing, and only the parts that he is witness to. When his father flips out at his boss and loses his job, we don’t hear the argument, only the muffled yelling as the boys watch from the truck. Even when his father tries to teach him how to swim, we don’t see Jonah’s full trauma until afterwards, in his imagination, when he relives the sensation of drowning, of separation, of helplessness. We the Animals is in no rush to tell what little story it has, and what’s here fuels itself with emotion, with the actions of the boys, with Jonah’s expressions and his animated scribbling. The pacing is languid, but it also feels appropriate — after all, childhood seems infinite to a ten-year-old.

None of this would work were it not for the chemistry in the core family unit. The three young newcomers act like real siblings, whether engaging in their youthful games, or in later scenes as the older brothers start to bully and chastise Jonah. As Paps and Ma, Raúl Castillo (Looking) and Sheila Vand (A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night) inhabit largely stereotypical characters — he alternating between dominating, passionate, and intensely caring, she between passive, forgiving, and nurturing — but each delivers their role with aplomb. Castillo shines in the softer moments between Paps and Jonah, and bristles with menace when his rage boils over. Vand’s strongest scene comes after an evening of abuse — desperate to flee, she grabs the boys, runs to the truck, and starts driving. But as her confidence falters, she begs the youths to tell her whether to keep going or turn back. It’s heartbreaking to watch, and thrives on the strength of Vand’s performance.

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However, while Zagar and cinematographer Zak Mulligan have crafted a softly captured and often beautiful piece of art, it’s not perfect. We the Animals is occasionally too abstract, giving not quite enough to convey its intentions at certain points. And while the story largely plays out at snail’s pace, the ending seems rushed for a film that lasts only 90-minutes. Jonah’s true awakening happens moments before the credits roll, and we’re quickly shepherded into a hamfisted encounter with his family, before lapsing back into soft, dreamy abstraction.

Still, that doesn’t detract from what Zagar has created. Translating the memories of the origin text into a cohesive film without adding an abundance of dialogue is no mean feat, and We the Animals works in large part because of an expressive cast that sells the quieter moments as much as it does the film’s harder-hitting scenes. As a coming-of-age tale it trades on gentle exposition and gradual awakening more than deliberate storytelling and protracted narration. Jonah’s tale is far from unique, but its quiet beauty makes it a worthy experience.

We the Animals opens Friday, Aug. 31 at Landmark’s E Street Cinema and Bethesda Row Cinema. Visit landmarktheatres.com.