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SUNDANCE 2024 Volume 2
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.
A New Kind of Wilderness
In the Norwegian wilderness, a family seeks a wild free existence but a tragic turn of events shatters their isolation, compelling them to adapt to the demands of contemporary society.
Before heading to Sundance, I was told that spontaneity could lead to the most rewarding discoveries, confirmed with Silje Evensmo Jacobsen’s A NEW KIND OF WILDERNESS.
Though not the film I set out to see early on my third day, fate matched me with this tenderhearted look at a Norwegian family of six living sustainably off the land surrounding their rural farm. When Maria, the North Star matriarch of the family, dies after an illness, the family is fractured. A daughter from a previous marriage departs to live in the city with her father, leaving dad Nik (a transplant from the UK now alone in a foreign country) to raise the three remaining children on his own, all while maintaining the leave no trace ethos his wife dreamed of.
Jacobsen’s lens follows the children and their father as they find their new normal during a period of adjustment that is still raw. Without their mother, the kids feel untethered, even with a present, consistent father who aims to put their needs above his at all times. The awkwardness of the eldest daughter visiting the family she doesn’t quite feel a complete bridge to anymore is painful to observe, as is Nik’s gradual realization of how much of their utopia will need to change so they all may survive.
While it’s understandably family-focused (putting it in alignment with the 2016 Viggo Mortensen film Captain Fantastic), I could have used a bit more color context from outside sources to provide more initial information and additional details from the earlier timeline of Nik and Maria’s life.
Winner
Reality Winner is a brilliant young misfit from a Texas border town who finds her morals challenged while serving as an NSA contractor. A sarcastic, gun-lovin, vegan, yogi, and CrossFit fanatic, Reality is an unconventional whistleblower who ends up being prosecuted for exposing Russia’s hacking of the 2016 election.
Already profiled in a 2021 documentary (Sonia Kennebeck’s Reality Winner) and Reality, 2023’s creatively staged film starring Sydney Sweeney recreating the exact transcript of the former American intelligence specialist’s initial detainment as FBI agents searched her house, if audiences hadn’t already seen it on the news, then it’s through these two projects that most viewers come to Susanna Fogel’s feature-film WINNER already familiar with the story of the whistleblower who received the most extended prison term for illegally releasing government information to the media.
Directed by Fogel from Kerry Howley’s screenplay, it’s an easy-to-engage-with, eager-to-please biopic framed with a lighter tone than the previous films covering the same subject. While not shying away from the facts or importance of the truth, Fogel uses her gift of elevating the material to a more profoundly honest plane by casting actors who have done their homework and turn in performances that feel lived-in and symbolic of the people they are playing.
Emilia Jones is nearly unrecognizable initially as Winner, and Zach Galifianakis takes it down several notches to superbly profound results. I appreciated the inclusion of more substantial roles for the mother (Connie Britton, always terrific) and sister (Kathryn Newton) characters to make Reality not feel like such an isolated figure in her own story. Though it’s certified popcorn entertainment and not a hard-hitting exposure to information we couldn’t have found out on our own, everyone involved is taking pains to make WINNER a rewarding experience.
Until now, it felt like we received a filtered version of the truth, but after seeing the film, I think audiences will walk away with more
gaps filled in.
Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story
Never-before-seen home movies and extraordinary personal archives reveal how Christopher Reeve went from unknown actor to iconic movie star as the ultimate screen superhero. He learned the true meaning of heroism as an activist after suffering a tragic accident that left him quadriplegic and dependent on a ventilator to breathe.
Christopher Reeve wasn’t the first actor to play Superman on screen, nor was he the last, but for many (me included), he is the only face that appears when you think about the Man of Steel.
Forever immortalized in the landmark 1978 film and its 1980 sequel (still two of the most thrilling superhero events ever made), Reeve became an overnight sensation. Though he struggled with similar success in other roles, his passion for his profession and dedication to his family earned him a reputation in Hollywood as a valuable friend and colleague.
In Ian Bonhôte and Peter Ettedgui‘s superbly moving documentary, SUPER/MAN: THE CHRISTOPHER REEVE STORY, audiences get an intimate glimpse into Reeve’s life when the cameras weren’t rolling, including the freak horse-riding accident in 1995, which left him a person with quadriplegia. How Reeve, his wife Dana, and their three children faced this cruel twist of fate (and so much more) is documented in painstaking, heartbreaking detail using a variety of creative mediums. A fuller picture of the Reeves becomes apparent through home videos and current interviews with extended family and famous friends. It is reinforced visually with strikingly executed passages of pain and joy.
The filmmakers never shy away from the challenging moments the family faces. This staggering grace and Reeve’s far-reaching charisma propel this skillfully compiled documentary into the highest of upper echelon ranks. Not even a metric ton of Kryptonite (or the grumpiest of aloof critics) could take this down.
Make sure to stock up on Kleenex before sitting down; it will test even the hardest of stone-faced viewers not to ugly cry their way through the run of the film.
Luther: Never Too Much
Luther Vandross started his career supporting David Bowie, Roberta Flack, Bette Midler, and more. His undeniable talent earned platinum records and accolades, but he struggled to break out beyond the R&B charts. Intensely driven, he overcame personal and professional challenges to secure his place amongst the greatest vocalists in history.
There I sat, surrounded by a sold-out crowd at Dawn Porter’s documentary on the too-short life and celebrated career of R&B singer Luther Vandross and found myself completely swept away. It wasn’t just Porter’s excellent use of archival materials, musical or otherwise, to map the rise of Vandross from his birth in Manhattan to a chart-topping Grammy winner who died in 2005 after a stroke sidelined him but her sensitivity in the approach.
Covering everything from his days performing on Sesame Street with his early group Listen to My Brother to recording voiceovers for countless famous jingles, Porter takes the viewer from A to B without her documentary ever feeling rudimentary or facile. Rumors about Vandross’s life and fluctuating weight had floated around for years. While Porter addressed many of this head-on through interviews with those who knew him best (avoiding conjecture as much as possible), you can tell a generous respect for the late artist possessing a striking voice of magnetic power is still present.
Though an electric presence onstage and in interviews, the sharply funny Vandross was intensely private (as is the right of every artist), and Porter is seeking to shine a light on who Vandross was as an artist, not expose who he was when the crowds went home. In that way, LUTHER: NEVER TOO MUCH emerges as a moving documentary (yet another Sundance doc you’ll need Kleenex for), which takes us through the vibrant life of a man with dreams of success who had the talent to back it up.
Great for Vandross fans and even better for the uninitiated , this is an entertaining and engaging doc (endorsed by the family, I should add) that strikes the perfect balance of a personal and professional reflection on a career.
Every Little Thing
Amid the glamour of Hollywood, Los Angeles, a woman finds herself on a transformative journey as she nurtures wounded hummingbirds, unraveling a visually captivating and magical tale of love, fragility, healing, and the delicate beauty in tiny acts of greatness.
There’s a certain sweetness in simplicity, and a documentary like Sally Aitkin’s EVERY LITTLE THING could be the blueprint for how to entertain the viewer but keep things light and free from burden. Inspired by Terry Masear’s book Fastest Things on Wings, Aitkin follows Masear, who has run a hummingbird rescue since 2008 out of her massive home in California.
Receiving thousands of calls and letters from people around the country needing assistance with injured hummingbirds each year, Masear takes many local wounded birds to her “ICU” and nurses them back to health through handheld care. Fragile and faced with a difficult recovery, the birds rely on Masear to give them a chance to make it, and she, in turn, derives a kind of personal peace each time one of her “patients” flies away after recovering. Aitkin is as gentle with her approach to the soft-spoken Masear as the hummingbird whisperer is with her bird friends.
Details on Masear’s personal life are slim, and it takes significant time to be teased out within the doc. You get the impression she’s more comfortable discussing bird health than her late husband, and we don’t see anyone outside of a few good Samaritans who bring their bruised birdies to Masear.
Featuring unbelievably detailed cinematography that captures hummingbirds in slo-mo flight, EVERY LITTLE THING may veer toward the overly slight. Still, it’s got such a sweet nature coupled with Masear’s momentous grace that it’s easy to sit back and watch it take flight.
A Different Man
Aspiring actor Edward undergoes a radical medical procedure to drastically transform his appearance. But his new dream face quickly turns into a nightmare, as he loses out on the role he was born to play and becomes obsessed with reclaiming what was lost.
I found out A DIFFERENT MAN was an A24 film about two minutes before it began, and that’s when a lot of unknowns started to fall into place. Aside from the short premise, I hadn’t heard much about Aaron Schimberg’s film before it was announced for Sundance, but with Sebastian Stan starring alongside Renate Reinsve, it was more than enough for me to set it high on my list.
Here’s an intriguing idea: a man with facial disfigurement undergoes a radical procedure that gives him a new face but prevents him from obtaining his original goals. It has much potential to pose some big questions, but it only asks them in crude half-sentences. The first third of A DIFFERENT MAN is solid stuff, luring you in with the promise of a subversive mystery teetering toward NY noir (helped immeasurably by Umberto Smerilli’s chilling score), but around the time of the transformation is when it strangely goes off the rails, leaving significant logic gaps in its wake.
You can be as obtuse as you want in a movie, and I’m all for that. Still, when you have seemingly intelligent characters that make unintelligent choices for the sake of a shaky screenplay, you’re asking the audience to join you in a nonsensical leap of faith.
The bright spot of the film, aside from the score, is Adam Pearson as a man that becomes Stan’s cheery nemesis. Pearson’s disfigurement IRL isn’t exploited and, if anything, serves as a counterbalance to having Stan wear a prosthesis playing a man afflicted with a series of facial tumors. I wished this film had been shorter and found a more satisfying conclusion than where it wound up.
The finale is incredibly disappointing but par for the course for A24’s logic of uncompromising support for its artists. I can respect the studio for that, but this film doesn’t work as well as other projects they’ve championed.
Suncoast
A teen living with her strong-willed mother and a brother requiring specialized strikes up an unlikely friendship with an eccentric activist at protests surrounding a landmark medical case.
Premiering on Hulu after a strong debut at Sundance, SUNCOAST is a tender coming-of-age story grounded by terrific performances.
Emerging as both a tender exploration of the deep complexities that live within a mother-daughter relationship and lightly skimming the surface of palliative care for the terminally ill, SUNCOAST is writer/director Laura Chinn’s reflection on her teenage years.
Though it moves into tricky territory as it reaches its third act, it’s not an emotionally exhausting experience either. Thanks to the flashes of levity Chinn is observant enough to sprinkle around at just the right moments, heartache and healing intertwine to produce a warm experience that places its bets on viewers warming to its belief in hope.
Daughters
Four young girls prepare for a special Daddy Daughter Dance with their incarcerated fathers, as part of a unique fatherhood program in a Washington, D.C., jail.
Before heading to Sundance, the buzz surrounding DAUGHTERS painted it as the tearjerker to end all tearjerkers. Let me tell you, it not only lived up to the hype but also snatched my heart and refused to let go.
Shot over eight years, this powerhouse documentary from directors Natalie Rae and Angela Patton is a rollercoaster of emotions, following four young girls and their incarcerated fathers gearing up for a prison dance that’ll rip at your heartstrings so hard, they’ll need reconstructive surgery.
Patton, who kicked off this poignant program in 2008, takes these families on a healing journey with sessions from pros, unraveling the threads of consistency, parental expectations, and the Herculean effort everyone (including mothers and extended family) puts into cultivating a child’s unbreakable bond with both parents.
The road isn’t smooth for families battered by broken trust, skeptically inching toward this event like the first draft of a fresh start. When the dance floor dust settles, and the film catapults through several years of updates, you realize DAUGHTERS isn’t just a movie. It’s a soul-stirring testament to Patton and her skilled team’s unwavering commitment.
In the post-premiere Q&A, Patton called DAUGHTERS a movement with serious muscle behind its message. After witnessing the emotional powerhouse on screen, I couldn’t agree more. This isn’t just a documentary; it’s a revolution, and I’m all in.
Winning both the Festival Favorite and U.S. Documentary Audience Awards and recently bought by Netflix, expect big things for DAUGHTERS.
Say Hi After You Die
A grieving woman believes her deceased best friend has come back to visit her… as a porta-potty.
Winner of the Short Film Jury Award for US Fiction, Kate Jean Hollowell’s 17-minute gem SAY HI AFTER YOU DIE feels like the opening salutation in a longer letter dealing with loss and the grief that can overtake us. Hollowell, wearing multiple hats as co-writer, director, and star, spins a tale that’s as absurdly comedic as it is deeply poignant.
The short finds Hollowell’s character stuck in massive sorrow after the tragic loss of her friend, a moment delivered with a dollop of crude comedy. Here’s the kicker: before departing this mortal coil, the friend humorously declared she’d return not as a majestic bird or cute critter but as a Porta-Potty. Lo and behold, a portable toilet pops up near Hollowell’s home post-friend’s demise, sparking the kind of cosmic coincidence that makes you believe in fate and chuckle at the absurdity of the universe.
A quirky dance follows between Hollowell and the inanimate, yet strangely animated, plasticized symbol of her departed friend. Using the Porta-Potty for purposes far beyond its intended function, Hollowell builds a connection that’s part absurd and part heartwarming, leading to a finale best left for viewers to discover—no wonder this short caught the eye of the Sundance jury and audiences.
Hollowell’s direction is clear, confidently steering us through a narrative that blends LOL with WTF moments. Her performance adds an extra layer of enjoyment, injecting tremendous fun into a film that could’ve easily veered into the yuck factor.
I wouldn’t go as far as suggesting a two-hour feature, but an 80-minute expansion? Absolutely in the realm of possibility. There’s more to unpack here—grief, letting go, and the odd ways we find connection amid loss.