At a catholic high school in the Filipino city of Tuguegarao, a rambunctious batch of students rebel against all expectations to be good and clean: a germaphobe is tested by a bout of uncontrollable diarrhea; a trio of emos are forced to perform tinikling (a traditional Philippine folk dance) with a normie; an uncircumcised boy attempts to ask an ostracized pregnant girl to prom; and the mayor’s son is tempted by his father’s corrupt example while running for youth council chairman.

Every frame of filmmaker Glenn Barit’s Cleaners was printed, hand colored with highlighters, and then rescanned, giving each of its angst-drenched emotions a singular handmade texture and the whole film a bone-deep nostalgia for growing up in the Philippines in the early aughts. One-of-a-kind visuals, plus earnest tracks by Filipino emo band Typecast and a swelling score composed by Barit himself, compel us to feel the fullest extent of Cleaners’ all at once loud, soft, funny, and sweet teenage antics and affections.

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