Indie Cinema's Biggest Event
SUNDANCE 2024 Volume 3
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.
Thelma
When 93-year-old Thelma Post gets duped by a phone scammer pretending to be her grandson, she sets out on a treacherous quest across the city to reclaim what was taken from her.
Prepare for a mild-to-wild rollercoaster with Josh Margolin’s lovable THELMA, a delightful ode to his grandmother, brought to life by the effervescent June Squibb.
If you would, bear with me as I draw a crazy comparison—Margolin’s film reminded me often of Jason Statham’s recent thriller, THE BEEKEEPER, but with a jollier twist. Squibb, a cheerier counterpart to Statham’s grim killer, takes off on a perilous mission to unmask a scam artist preying on seniors. While Statham’s style involves a healthy amount of skull-cracking, Squibb’s motor-scooter-fueled pursuit of the truth had me far more on edge, fearing broken bones.
Joined by the late, great Richard Roundtree in a fantastic final role, THELMA is centered squarely on Squibb, who, at a spry 93, takes on her first leading role. Her magnetic charm could sell water to a stone, elevating this caper movie into a thoroughly enjoyable experience. Casting Clark Gregg and Parker Posey usually would be a cause for celebration, but they’re caught in a subplot Margolin hasn’t scripted as tightly as Squibb’s, turning them into distracting detours when the focus shifts.
A previous Oscar nominee, Squibb, if positioned right and catching on as I anticipate, might find herself the toast of the town a year from now.
THELMA isn’t just a film; it’s a testament to the enduring charisma of its leading lady and the unpredictable joys that come with a spirited pursuit of justice—on a motor scooter, no less!
Love Me
Long after humanity’s extinction, a buoy and a satellite meet online and fall in love.
A litmus test of devotion is waiting for Kristen Stewart and Steven Yeun fans who venture to watch LOVE ME.
The film, winner of the Alfred P. Sloan Feature Film Prize and directed by the dynamic duo Sam and Andy Zuchero, unleashes a post-apocalyptic romance that’s as audacious as it is thought-provoking. While we continue to have the debate of home-viewing versus theater-watching, I think seeing it from the comfort of my home made it easier to digest the 92 minutes, especially as the film routinely throws standard expectations out of the window and noting that the two stars might be barely onscreen for half that time.
Instead of a typical Hollywood love story, LOVE ME places its bets on an unlikely pair—not Stewart and Yeun, but a buoy and a satellite. These two machines, seemingly from different galaxies, form a bond that defies all odds and, yes, fall head over achingly metaphorical heels in love. Comparisons to PIXAR’s WALL•E are inevitable, but the Zucheros aren’t content with a surface-level romance aimed at families; they’re drilling into the bone marrow of love, where the crack is truly painful.
It’s not hard to see why Stewart and Yeun signed up for this, with its astonishing visuals and challenging narrative deep dive into sentience, separation, and death themes. Upfront honesty will be crucial with this title because you can’t sell LOVE ME as a typical Hollywood romance. All but demanding an open mind, audiences must strap in for the Zucheros’ wild ride and be prepared for a love story that unfolds unexpectedly.
A Real Pain
Mismatched cousins David and Benji reunite for a tour through Poland to honor their beloved grandmother. The adventure takes a turn when the odd-couple's old tensions resurface against the backdrop of their family history.
I’m going to be honest here, now that we’re neck-deep in Volume 3 of my Sundance journey, and let you know that I’ve never been that big of a Jesse Eisenberg fan. Then I watched the fantastic FX/Hulu series Fleishman Is in Trouble, and my opinion of the actor changed radically. I stayed away from Eisenberg’s first feature as a director, 2022’s When You Finish Saving the World, but the premise and promise of A REAL PAIN was too tempting to resist. Written and directed by Eisenberg, who also turns in a crackling performance alongside the remarkable Kieran Culkin, A REAL PAIN delves into the intricacies of the existential turmoil of growing up (preach, Jesse, preach) but serves it up with a generous dollop of dark humor that kept it entertaining and authentically contemplative.
Set in Poland, where two American cousins have traveled to pay tribute to their late grandmother, A REAL PAIN consistently turns the maudlin into the marvelous. Eisenberg’s writing is sensitive to the subject matter but isn’t afraid to find the comedy or allow hurt to linger. Traveling with a tour group around points of interest within the city as well as to the concentration camp their grandmother survived, the cousins catch up, breaking down walls that had grown thorny since they last spoke. While they retrace some of the steps their beloved relative walked, they each gain a greater understanding of the tenuous ground we all walk and embrace life. There’s an excellent supporting performance from Jennifer Grey that doesn’t stray too far into the central plot but provides breezy ease (along with the other tour members) not to feel like A REAL PAIN is purely a two-hander.
Acquired out of Sundance by Fox Searchlight for a not-too-shabby 10 million bucks underscores the commercial appeal of this. While I hate putting my money on a horse so early in the race, Culkin’s performance is wonderful and deserves some attention. Short enough that it doesn’t lose steam as it goes along, A REAL PAIN was a warm surprise.
Little Death
A middle-aged filmmaker on the verge of a breakthrough. Two kids in search of a lost backpack. A small dog a long way from home.
Of all the actors on the television series Friends, I always wondered why David Schwimmer wasn’t the first to break out and have a career far from his sitcom alter ego. After all, Schwimmer was a founding member of the Lookingglass Theatre Company in Chicago and received a prestigious acting education. However, it’s only lately that he’s truly come into his own, and that’s why LITTLE DEATH was such an eye-catching title at Sundance. Unfortunately, while the film has early promise when Schwimmer is front and center, it’s not exactly the movie you may think it is. It ultimately fails to deliver, leaving you wishing for more cohesion in its sprawling narrative.
Produced by Darren Aronofsky and directed by Jack Begert, LITTLE DEATH is like two halves of a strange coin you picked up off the street. One side is shiny and glints in the sunlight, while the other is dull and rubbed clean of any distinctive traits. Begert’s script (co-written with Dani Goffstein) follows filmmaker Martin Solomon (David Schwimmer), whose life intertwines with stoners AJ (Dominic Fike) and Karla (Talia Ryder). How they crisscross would be a spoiler, but it’s at the intersection where the film takes a significant downward turn. Though the film’s disjointed structure attempts to offer a fresh perspective (credit Begert’s success in music videos for excellent visuals throughout), a disconnection occurs, which sets us adrift, unable to grab ahold of the characters or their arcs. Despite a reputable cast, including supporting players Gaby Hoffman and Jena Malone, their talents feel underutilized, adding to the overall feeling of missed opportunities.
On the plus side, Begert’s direction shows promise, and LITTLE DEATH’s attempts at innovation are admirable, but the end result is a film that feels incongruous and without much meat on its bones.
Handling the Undead
On a hot summer day in Oslo, the newly dead awaken. Three families faced with loss try to figure out what this resurrection means and if their loved ones really are back.
Enough people convinced me HANDLING THE UNDEAD was D.O.A. I nearly skipped out on it, not wanting to waste precious at-home time on a title that wouldn’t fill my cup. I’m so glad I didn’t turn fickle in my final hours of the festival and stuck to my guns because this Norwegian-Swedish offering being released by NEON in the coming months was an unsettling gem. Directed by Thea Hvistendahl, who adapted the 2005 novel by John Ajvide Lindqvist (the writer of Let the Right One In), the marketing for this one is going to be tricky because it’s a horror film about those no longer alive but not zombies in the way we have come to think of them.
Though ostensibly an ensemble film, celebrated actress Renate Reinsve is shown prominently on the poster and trailers, and her plotline features the most terror-centric developments as the movie progresses. However, the stellar cast truly sells the dread overtaking the town as they see their loved ones coming back to life only to gradually become something monstrous. I found several passages of HANDLING THE UNDEAD to be genuinely frightening, and often, nothing of much note was even happening; it was how Hvistendahl let the camera linger just long enough for your mind to imagine the worst outcome possible. The cinematography from Pål Ulvik Rokseth is impressive; an opening shot tracks a character walking with such benign stealth that you don’t realize how suspenseful it has become until you notice you’ve been holding your breath waiting for the tension to break. I can see where others found this too slow and meandering for their instant deliverable taste, but the creep of this one did a wonderous number on me.
Rob Peace
Robert Peace grew up in an impoverished section of Newark and later graduated from Yale with degrees in molecular biophysics and biochemistry while on scholarship. Peace led a dual life in academia and research while also earning six figures selling marijuana.
Seeing good actors in a flawed biopic is no fun, but…here we are. I’m not going to tell you the name of the biographical novel by Jeff Hobbs that ROB PEACE is based on, but suffice it to say that as a spoiler-free website, I will urge you not to look it up. Or perhaps you want to peek and spare yourself a few hours of frustratingly standard work that is as paint-by-the-numbers as they come. Directed by Chiwetel Ejiofor, who co-wrote the screenplay with Hobbs and starred in the film, it shows that wearing multiple hats isn’t for everyone. There’s just not enough Ejiofor to go around here, and he needed to either focus more on the direction, which lacks narrative momentum (it’s almost two hours and feels longer) or fine-tune the script, which is a series of, “and then this happened” events.
Ejiofor gets a leg up in the acting department, where he has proven he is a champion. I can see why he chose to direct himself because it’s obviously a part that was close to him, but had he let go of the role (as good as he is in it), it might have allowed costars Jay Will and Mary J. Blige to fly a little higher on their own. As it is, they tend to get lost amid his scenes and can’t quite hold our attention like Ejiofor. The story of Rob Peace has some grit to it and a definitive cinematic edge so it’s not surprising this film exists. While I’m not entirely convinced it was a life begging to be told at this level, Ejiofor would have done everyone better if he hadn’t kept this Peace all to himself.
Dìdi (弟弟)
In 2008, during the last month of summer before high school begins, an impressionable 13-year-old Taiwanese American boy learns what his family can’t teach him: how to skate, how to flirt, and how to love your mom.
Ah…just what we need in 2024, another ‘coming-of-age’ film where foul-mouthed, obnoxious young boys say “fag” a lot, talk about farts and their dongs, are horrible to the girls in their class and especially the put-upon women in their family, and get their asses handed to them just in time for them to grow up a bit before the credits roll. Winning the U.S. Dramatic Award and the U.S. Dramatic Special Jury Award for Best Ensemble, it was during Sundance that director Sean Wang learned that he’d been nominated for an Oscar for his Documentary Short Nai Nai & Wài Pó; I think there was energy from that news that propelled DIDI (弟弟) into its two wins.
Honestly, this is the least interesting story to be voiced right now from the most overtold group. We’ve seen this story from twenty/thirtysomething males in one form or another countless times, and the result is always the same. It’s not engaging in the least, and, especially, the insufferable pitch of the dialogue and characters (not the actors, who are uniformly charming, professional, and destined for something better down the road) made it the film I appreciated the least. Joan Chen, as the titular character’s underappreciated mother, is the film’s highlight. I wouldn’t be surprised if there is energy behind her when Focus Features releases the film in 2024.
Exhibiting Forgiveness
Utilizing his paintings to find freedom from his past, a Black artist on the path to success is derailed by an unexpected visit from his estranged father, a recovering addict desperate to reconcile. Together, they learn that forgetting might be a greater challenge than forgiving.
I’ve been paying attention to André Holland’s career after his brief but thunderously memorable turn in 2016 Best Picture winner Moonlight. His critically praised performance in that film has led to a steady stream of work but not the kind of accolades that a talent like his deserves. So, I was excited to see Holland announced as the lead of EXHIBITING FORGIVENESS, a drama from contemporary artist Titus Kaphar. Well-known in the arts community as a dynamic painter, Kaphar’s eye for picture and detail would suggest a film that was framed with elegance (and he uses his art liberally in the film), but EXHIBITING FORGIVENESS turned out to be one of the more rote festival-y experiences I had at Sundance.
Kaphar’s film seeks to explore generational trauma, and it’s not short on wince-inducing situations of familial pain that are sure to appeal to anyone with a heart vulnerable to breaking. However, it has an equal amount of cringe-worthy dialogue and performances that lean into overindulgence in performative “acting” that diminishes the central message. That’s terrible news for Holland, who should be soaring in EXHIBITING FORGIVENESS but is kept grounded by Kaphar’s hokey situational set-up that alternates playing like an after-school special and a drama patched together with the emotional beats from better films. Some excellent actors here have been great in other projects (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor just delivered the performance of a lifetime in 2023’s sadly overlooked Origin). Still, I wasn’t interested in buying anything that was being sold.
The Greatest Night in Pop
In 1985, 46 music icons, including Lionel Richie, Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen, Cyndi Lauper, Diana Ross, and Stevie Wonder, came together for the most star-studded recording session in history. This is the untold story of the legendary global pop song “We Are the World” — which very nearly didn’t happen.
The Greatest Night in Pop isn’t just a documentary; it’s a celebration of humanity, compassion, and the enduring power of music.
Through insightful interviews with the artists, Bao Nguyen’s documentary (that premiered at Sundance right before it debuted on Netflix) unveils the emotional resonance behind “We Are the World,” a song conceived as an anthem and a beacon of hope during a tumultuous time in global history.
While the film’s deliberate and contemplative pacing allows for a nuanced exploration of the collaborative process, it stretches the run time slightly further than it needs to. Eventually, it finds the most level way to navigate the fine line between revealing the creative tensions that simmered beneath the surface and preserving the overall harmony that ultimately defined the recording.
I don’t want to oversell this one too much, but I will say that I’m compiling my Sundance reviews several weeks after the Netflix premiere and I’ve yet to come across one person that hasn’t raved about it. If you are any kind of music fan, this one is for you.
Leave a Reply