a deeply emotional story about loneliness, resilience, and the healing power of unexpected friendships
Tracie Laymon’s semi-autobiographical film follows Lily (Barbie Ferreira), a young woman who has spent her life being let down—by her absent mother, her emotionally abusive father, and even her faith in basic human decency. When a chance Facebook find connects her with the wrong Bob Trevino (John Leguizamo), the film embarks on a tender and humorous journey of self-discovery and ‘family’.
Ferreira’s performance is the heart of the movie, balancing Lily’s emotional wounds with a well-worn defense mechanism of bright smiles and self-deprecating humor. Her ability to carry both the film’s comedy and its more gut-wrenching moments makes her performance stand out. She plays Lily like a person constantly teetering between survival mode and cautious hope, afraid to trust the good in people but unable to stop seeking it.
Leguizamo, meanwhile, brings a warmth and quiet sorrow to Bob, a man who, like Lily, is missing something in his life but may not fully understand what. Their chemistry is effortless, making their growing father-daughter-like bond feel organic, even if their relationship unfolds with fewer obstacles than real-life healing might allow.
While some side characters exist mainly to push Lily and Bob along their arcs, the film thrives in its modesty. The grand emotional payoff doesn’t come from dramatic confrontations or life-altering revelations, but from simple, human moments—fixing a broken toilet, liking a lonely Facebook post, visiting a puppy shelter, and, sometimes unknowingly, comforting someone without needing anything in return. These small gestures accumulate, slowly but surely chipping away at Lily’s hardened exterior. It’s in these understated moments that Bob Trevino Likes It finds its greatest emotional power, proving that healing doesn’t have to be loud or cinematic; sometimes, it’s just about being there for someone in ways we don’t even fully understand we are, or need.
That said, the film occasionally glosses over the complexities of trauma, making recovery feel more linear than it actually is. However, this doesn’t detract from its impact. If anything, it reinforces the film’s purpose: it’s not here to dwell in darkness, but to show a version of healing that is hopeful, affirming, and even a little bit magical.
By the end, Bob Trevino Likes It delivers its message with a quiet but undeniable power: healing doesn’t happen overnight, but with the right people, it’s possible. Lily doesn’t emerge as a completely different person—her wounds don’t vanish, and life doesn’t suddenly become easy—but she learns to believe, for the first time, that she’s not beyond repair. And in a world that so often breaks people down, that’s a happy ending worth celebrating.
