Indie Cinema’s Biggest Event
SUNDANCE 2024 Volume 1
Wading into the waters of the festival circuit has been a whirlwind, and after the exhilarating experience at the Toronto Film Festival in September, the question lingered: was it too soon to dive into the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, UT? Still recuperating from the cinematic smorgasbord of nearly fifty films in Canada, the prospect of a five-day sprint through the charming ski-town felt like a marathon in the making. Though the film count would be tamer, my excitement for a new experience, star-sighting, and films no one else had seen was palpable.
In those brisk and balmy five days (and subsequent online screenings), I discovered that a lot can unfold within that timeframe. In three volumes, I will take you along on my journey through the 40th Annual Sundance Film Festival. Buckle up as I guide you to the must-watch gems to keep an eye out for in 2024 and divert your attention from the flicks you might not mind passing on if they secure a distributor. Get ready for a trip that promises insights, recommendations, and the pulse of the film landscape at Sundance.
Ghostlight
When a construction worker unexpectedly joins a local theater’s production of Romeo and Juliet, the drama onstage starts to mirror his own life.
Tender, raw, surprising, and filled with moments of organically grown humor that could only spring from the seasoned pros directors Kelly O’Sullivan and Alex Thompson have cast, GHOSTLIGHT is the heart-on-its-sleeve weepie audiences brought their Kleenex to Park City for.
There are some terrifically played emotional beats in this (I was choking back sobs early. Like, first act early.), and while the cast is uniformly excellent in every way, this is star Keith Kupferer‘s show from the quiet start to its blazing finish.
With his wife and daughter playing his onscreen family, Kupferer goes on a journey that’s honestly played and fully lived in. O’Sullivan’s script offers dignity instead of digs at the amateur theater troupe Kupferer joins, and when he winds up playing Romeo opposite the exquisite Dolly De Leon‘s Juliet, it becomes an opportunity for the blue-collar worker to heal a wound that has grown infected and is slowly poisoning his life. A celebrated actress who had flown under the radar for years, De Leon arrived on the scene with 2022’s Triangle of Sadness, but with GHOSTLIGHT she’s established herself as a formidable leading lady.
Edited to give it expert shape and directed with intelligent freedom, this is proof on film of the healing power of theater. Acquired by IFC, I’m hoping they can give this moving film the release (and awards push) it deserves.
Stress Positions
Terry, in strict quarantine in his ex-husband’s Brooklyn home, cares for his injured nephew, a 19-year-old Moroccan model named Bahlul, drawing attention from everyone in his life.
We’re just on this side of ”too soon” when using COVID jokes for farce and that’s good news for multi-hyphenate artist Theda Hammel and their feature directorial debut STRESS POSITIONS. At least, it helps initially scale a hurdle that establishes its bitter pill humor that gradually becomes harder to swallow.
Co-written by Faheem Ali & Hammel (who also stars, produces, and composed the music), it takes place in NYC in the not-so-distant past at the fuzzy start of the pandemic that changed our world and worldview. Comedian John Early is a harried bundle of truther nerves living amongst doubters as he cares for an injured nephew while squatting in his soon to be ex-husband’s brownstone.
An array of colorful (and frankly, obnoxiously self-absorbed) characters flow through the picture, highlighting the “stress” in STRESS POSITIONS. Hammel has a knack for conversational dialogue that achieves an almost Shakespearean rhythm, but that doesn’t always equate to an engaging experience for an audience that requests more than just a constant stream of in-your-face energy, which grows exponentially exhausting.
I did give this film a second look when I returned from Sundance and my opinion of it changed quite a lot. I had perhaps put a different set of expectations on it at the outset, which clouded my first viewing. Watching it a second time, the blistering humor of Hammel and Ali’s screenplay cut deeper, and the supporting performances from Amy Zimmer as Hammel’s self-absorbed girlfriend & Rebecca F. Wright as Early’s odd but alluring upstairs neighbor shone brightly.
Freaky Tales
In 1987 Oakland, a mysterious force guides The Town’s underdogs in four interconnected tales: Teen punks defend their turf against Nazi skinheads, a rap duo battles for hip-hop immortality, a weary henchman gets a shot at redemption, and an NBA All-Star settles the score. Basically another day in the Bay.
Having escaped the clutches of the Marvel Cinematic Universe after helming Captain Marvel in 2019, writer/directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck have returned to feature filmmaking with FREAKY TALES, a wildly entertaining trip to Oakland circa 1987 that creates a big-time vibe before the opening studio logos have faded.
Told in four chapters that overlap almost on the periphery, its cup runneth over with rap battles, Nazi vs. Punk street fights, Tarantino-lite gonzo revenge fantasias, and supernatural schlock that owes as much to a certain Cronenberg classic from 1981 as it does an underrated DePalma thriller released in 1978.
Sonically driven by a soundtrack that has more needle drops than an arthritic grandma, the massive ensemble cast is made up of familiar faces (and one eye-popping cameo) and is certain to ring nostalgic bells for fans of Bay Area artists in the ‘80s. The Pedro Pascal segment will, naturally, get the most press, but keep your eye on what Normani and Dominique Thorne are putting out there as Danger Zone, an up-and-coming rap duo challenged by a local legend.
If they can market this one right, and the buzz in Park City proved it was possible to create colossal heat, FREAKY TALES is a a sleeper cult hit in the making.
Your Monster
After her life falls apart, soft-spoken actress Laura Franco finds her voice again when she meets a terrifying, yet weirdly charming Monster living in her closet. A romantic-comedy-horror film about falling in love with your inner rage.
For those of you meat and potatoes rom-com fans still missing Nora Ephron and tapping your fingers waiting for Nancy Meyers to get her next project off the ground, may I make a suggestion? Give writer/director Caroline Lindy’s feature debut (based on her short) YOUR MONSTER a go.
A wry riff on the expected genre scenario, it doesn’t skimp on tropes but uses them to its advantage while telling a fresh (and often enormously charming) tale of an actress meeting the monster in her closet right around the time she breaks up with her boyfriend whose Broadway show she soon begins rehearsing for. Scream and Scream VI‘s Melissa Barrera goes all in for her part, fearlessly playing the ugly truths of depressive sadness and learning to reclaim your voice. Tommy Dewey is downright delightful as a beastly dude who otherwise appears to be irresistible.
The musical numbers are stage-bound but actually sound like show tunes and naturally the musically gifted Barrera knocks them out of the park, though I would have loved ethereal supporting actress Meghann Fahy to get to sing more. Impressively captured and edited, there were multiple times YOUR MONSTER could have lost its magic, but it maintains its devious pixie twinkle right through to its jaw-dropping final number.
Skywalkers: A Love Story
A daring couple travels worldwide to climb the last super skyscraper, attempting a bold acrobatic stunt on the spire to salvage both their career and relationship.
I was about ten minutes into SKYWALKERS: A LOVE STORY, Jeff Zimbalist‘s documentary about a pair of “rooftopers” scaling Merdeka 118 in Malaysia, when I made a terrible recollection: I seriously don’t like heights. More specifically, vertigo hits me hard, and the stunning cinematography featured in the doc is enough to make the knees weak and palms sweat of even the most grounded viewer.
Billed as part heist film, it delivers on that cinematic premise thanks to breathless recordings of not just drone shots atop impossible heights but of the clever (and, it must be said, illegal) methods of obtaining that access. Real fears of death coupled with the love story between subjects Angela Nikolau and Ivan Kuznetsovis are where SKYWALKERS: A LOVE STORY finds its greatest peak; bruising moments of revealing honesty shows the audience how demand for high-flying adrenaline can lead to debilitating breakdowns in spirit.
See it on the big screen…and maybe take Dramamine before.
The American Society of Magical Negroes
A young man is recruited into a secret society of magical Black people who dedicate their lives to a cause of utmost importance: making white people’s lives easier.
After an uninspiring trailer, I didn’t hold much hope for THE AMERICAN SOCIETY OF MAGICAL NEGROES being the type of film that would wind up being so, well, magical. In an example of marketing underselling (and underestimating) a product that would hold appeal to the masses, Kobi Libii’s feature debut is a timely piece of fantasy that speaks to culture, climate, and our continued curiosity into the archetypes that grow to define us.
Justice Smith makes for an admirable lead, but David Alan Grier steals the show, recruiting Smith to a secret guild of black people tasked with assuaging white people’s feelings to keep the peace. When Smith’s first assignment is a tech geek at a Facebook-like business about to be canceled, he learns to find his voice in a sea of nonsense doublespeak.
There is an almost Harry Potter-style world-building going on here (Michael Abels lush score makes you want to find the nearest chapter book to curl up with), and Libii shows a knack for writing conversational dialogue that isn’t obnoxiously on the nose. Grier is top-notch, continuing his recent streak of notable work on film and stage. I also enjoyed An-Li Bogan’s breezy aura, upending our view of the traditional “object of affection” role.
Presence
Follows a fractured family as a mysterious supernatural force infiltrates their new home and takes interest in their daughter, Chloe
Even though PRESENCE was my eighth film (and seventh world premiere) at Sundance, nothing quite matched the ripple of buzz that preceded director Steven Soderbergh‘s introduction of the movie to the eager audience.
With a bare-bones premise to go off of and a tiny cast list, expectations were all over the map regarding what to expect from the latest collaboration between Soderbergh and KIMI screenwriter David Koepp. Ninety white knuckle minutes later, there was a lot to discuss. And I can tell you very little. Spoiling anything about this fantastically spooky tale will do you no favors (and I suspect will get ME haunted by angry PR reps), but I can assure you that you’ll enjoy what two masters have cooked up for you. What I could tell you is that PRESENCE is told entirely from one POV (filmed by Soderbergh himself) in a single location and follows a family (Chris Sullivan, Lucy Liu, Eddy Maday, and Callina Liang) that move into a house…but aren’t entirely alone.
Featuring the kind of spine-curling, toe-tingling shivers that linger like an icy chill, Soderbergh doesn’t forget the human element and has cast accordingly. Sullivan is wonderful as a conflicted patriarch, while Liu gets a particularly devasting bit of terror to deliver exceptionally well. Cast in a bit part, Julia Fox sets the ab-so-lute perfect tone to start the film. Calling this a scare machine would imply some sort of rote workmanlike effort, but when the device is crafted so well to do its task, what else can you say?
The Outrun
After living life on the edge in London, Rona attempts to come to terms with her troubled past. She returns to the wild beauty of Scotland’s Orkney Islands (where she grew up) hoping to heal. Adapted from Amy Liptrot’s bestselling memoir.
It may be an oversimplification to say that it feels to be a rite of passage for every great actor to get their “addiction” movie out of their system by any means possible. It is even more challenging when the actor is taking on the life of a real person still alive; only a select few can rise to the occasion without it seeming like a maudlin exercise in mandatory range stretching.
I’m not entirely in love with THE OUTRUN, Nora Fingscheidt’s adaptation of Amy Liptrot’s brilliant memoir of the same name, but I am swooning a bit over what star Saoirse Ronan (Little Women) has done with the role. The performance is as messy and complicated as the editing of the narrative (my best advice is not to try to keep track of the threads, as you’ll start to go cross-eyed). Still, she supersedes any confusion of time and place by making Rona (standing in for Liptrot) a fully formed character who struggles with feelings of incompleteness throughout.
By and large, playing much of the film solo on the remote solemnity of Scotland’s Orkney Islands (gorgeously filmed by Yunus Roy Imer), Ronan is completely in command of the work, down to a dizzying and dazzling finale that is truly a breathtaking collaboration between actor, director, and the technical aspects that bring us to watch films on the big screen.
Love Lies Bleeding
Lou is a reclusive gym manager who falls hard for Jackie, an ambitious bodybuilder who’s heading to Las Vegas to pursue her dream. Their love soon leads to violence as they get pulled deep into the web of Lou’s criminal family.
Hot dayum LOVE LIES BLEEDING is a killer sophomore outing from Saint Maud director Rose Glass!
Hypnotically horny, explicitly sexy, and beautifully violent in all the right places, its audacity is matched only by its uncompromising momentum toward danger.
Kristen Stewart tries on a different type of protagonist to reach newfound heights but it’s Katy O’Brian that will pump you up with an absolutely killer performance of gritty commitment. Together, the two create an almost feral romance you won’t be able to tear your eyes away from – and keep in mind the film also stars scene stealers Ed Harris, Dave Franco, Anna Baryshnikov, and the always reliable Jena Malone.
So much an A24 film you’d think they commissioned it along with Clint Mansell’s pulse quickening score.
The Moogai
A young Aboriginal couple brings home their second baby. What should be a joyous time takes a sinister turn, as the baby’s mother starts seeing a malevolent spirit she is convinced is trying to take her baby.
Not every celebrated short needs to be turned into a feature-length film, and Jon Bell’s THE MOOGAI is the latest proof longer is not always better.
Attempts to blend supernatural horror with the real-world atrocities of Australia’s Stolen Generations simply do not land, not helped by unkempt performances and logical foibles that manage to grow sillier and duller simultaneously.
Every eye-rolling stupidity in the hapless victim handbook is utilized, and when the action does stoke some flames, it changes the tone entirely. There’s always room for more stories about the Stolen Generations, and like a lead actor put it in the post-show Q&A, sometimes people need it delivered in an easy-to-swallow pill. THE MOOGAI is bad medicine, however.
I did enjoy Tessa Rose as a wise elder who no one listens to until it is too late, pity the film couldn’t have expanded her role and reduced others (why is Bella Heathcote in this movie?)