While “women’s pictures” had an initial heyday in the 50s, they experienced an overheated renaissance in the 90s on channels like Lifetime. In this new era, the over-the-top nature of classics like Death of a Cheerleader or Mother May I Sleep with Danger? wasn’t a failing. It was a feature. Where else could you get female-centered melodrama and hear John Stamos utter a line like “Do a little crack for daddy!” in absolute seriousness? (Daughter of the Streets is a bona fide essential, by the way.) Maddie’s Secret makes it clear that, like me, John Early is a connoisseur of such pop culture artifacts. But more than that, he’s an appreciator. Understanding that Secret both references and celebrates the subgenre is essential to grasping the film’s brilliance.

Writer and director Early also plays the lead, Maddie. A wannabe food influencer/recipe developer working for a content factory called Gourmaybe in LA, she leads a seemingly charmed life. Cute house, perfect doting husband, ride-or-die bestie. And the dream only appears to be growing deeper when Maddie gets the chance to host her own cooking segment. Unfortunately, the opportunity causes Maddie’s unresolved food issues and bulimia to come racing back toward the surface.

Immediately, what stands out is Early’s earnest and honest portrayal. It’s clear Early holds a lot of tenderness for her. That’s the only reason he can play—nay, become—her. Not even 10 minutes into the movie, he ceases to exist. There is only Maddie. It’s an impressive feat, comparable only to the work of Anna Konkle and Maya Erskine in Pen15.

It’s also obvious from the way he shoots Maddie, bathing her in brilliant golden-hour light or soft glows of blue and green, giving her a gorgeous, romantic appearance. Even when Maddie’s at her lowest, the bulimia back in full force, Early sees no need to show us the gruesome episodes up close. Instead, we see her silhouette hunched over or the shadow of a door slowly closing her inside the bathroom. Again, that’s tenderness and respect seeping through. There’s an understanding that we don’t actually need to witness the act—a scene that could easily be triggering for women in recovery or actively battling ED—to get the point. Early knows when to keep the camera at a distance and when to come closer.

Much of Early’s style here lands far closer to a Douglas Sirk melodrama than Long Island Lolita. Maddie’s Secret bursts with color and light. Scenes are staged more for cinematic beauty and interest than for reality or shock-and-awe.

As the story unfolds, the film begins to unspool. It loses its laser-like focus, moving onto shakier ground. While this, strangely, makes it more akin to the made-for-TV schlock it references, it still leaves the audience longing for more clarity, tighter plotting, and fewer loose threads.

Maddie’s best friend, Deena (Kate Berlant), seems to get the shortest end of the stick here. Her arc never feels complete, even if it’s clear where Early wants her character to go. Berlant is fully in her stride playing the role—sassy, sincere, and ultimately more complex than we’re first led to believe. Unfortunately, that makes it hard not to want more satisfaction from her role.

Part of the struggle may stem from the script’s interest in modernizing the story, moving away from Lifetime-movie conservative moralizing. Finding a way to thread that needle isn’t an easy task. What’s clear, though, is how much more interesting Maddie’s Secret is for stretching. Early wants you to laugh at the jokes, not at the genre, because he takes Maddie, and women, seriously. As a result, the humor, the honesty, and the love for the kind of flick that immediately hits like comfort food shines.

Maddie’s Secret Gourmaybe in a theatre near you now.

Maddie’s Secret Trailer: