Tribeca 2025 Wrap Up

Another year has come and gone, and with it, our favorite in-person festival experience: the Tribeca Film Festival. Josh, Allison, and interns cast a wide net over many of the festival’s debuts, releases, TV series, and even one anniversary screening that royally “fucked them up.” Don’t miss out as we run down our full festival coverage, then pick out our favorites from 2025’s Tribeca after the jump!

Films

A TREE FELL IN THE WOODS

Full review at the link.

After This Death

(Written by Allison Brown) In perhaps one of the most perplexing and frustrating selections this year, After This Death spends more time on its mundane setup than expanding a genuinely engaging reveal. As a big Alias fan, Mía Maestro return to the screen excites—and with Pushing Daisies’ Lee Pace alongside her, the pairing should be a guaranteed win. Their chemistry on screen is palpable, even more so in the bizarre foot fetish exploits featured. However, an overlong buildup to their romantic entanglement and spousal drama ultimately squanders any momentum for more fascinating plot points to come. An oozing, eerie score sets the tone for an eccentric thriller that fails to sufficiently develop to fruition. Cult fan conspiracies, stalking, and ominous lyric interpretation in the latter third make for a more compelling center. Even worse, clarity is sorely lacking, leaving the nature of the primary conflict up to interpretation and unresolved. Although difficult to expand on the subject matter without spoilers, a much better movie could have been unearthed with more adept editing and a refocused script.

ALL WE CANNOT SEE

(Written by intern, Kendall Martin) A quiet, somber portrait of a couple navigating a confusing world, All We Cannot See tells a haunting romance that, while contrived, remains beautifully and deeply human. Aroa (María Valverde) works in a slaughterhouse in Navarra, Spain, and lives at home with her abusive family. When she meets Miquela (Bruna Cusí), a traveling technician for a wind turbine company, the two women are quickly swept up in a sapphic romance. Despite escaping on a road trip to Portugal, not all is smooth sailing, as they are both hiding secrets from each other. Aroa’s mysteriously dark family life is a particularly stormy cloud hanging over their budding relationship, leading to a muted tension driving much of the following action. As they make their way west, the lovers slowly reveal their individual scars, putting their newfound bond to the test. This subdued narrative relies heavily on the chemistry between its two performers. While Valverde and Cusí are game for what is required of them, the sheer size of the task at hand is often simply too much weight. A B-plot to lighten the load on these actresses and to keep things fresh and engaging would have been most welcome. As it stands, however, the other heavy lifter present here is the cinematography from Gerard Uzcategui Coleman. Creative and attention-grabbing, Coleman’s camera finds uniquely gorgeous angles to capture the dynamic at play between the romantic leads. This certainly betters the end product, as the simplistic story and the execution feels somewhat forced. The script moves briskly from scene to scene, never really letting the characters control its direction. Ultimately, All We Cannot See is visually stunning, and, despite being clunkily manufactured, its central duo lends an anchoring empathy pervading throughout.

THE BEST YOU CAN

Full review at the link.

BILLY IDOL SHOULD BE DEAD

At a certain point, maybe we will eventually run out of music act documentaries. Until then, keep ’em coming. Billy Idol Should Be Dead is the latest, cataloging the bonkers rise of pretty boy punk rocker, Billy Idol. As a quiet guy who came to America in 1981, he became a totally different person once he slid into the Idol persona. This Live Nation film dives deep into Idol’s skyrocketing level of fame in the 80s. From his early grungy band, Generation X, to “Rebel Yell,” “Eyes Without a Face,” “Cradle of Love,” and everything in between, this doc contains interviews with Billy himself, and those in his orbit during those formative years. More telling than the opportunities are the drug incidents, including heavy heroin and cocaine use, that could have killed him. Billy suffered through multiple overdoses and still lived to tell his tale, which is more opportunity than most ever get. 2D-animated segments help add texture to the story, particularly in moments that feel too outlandish to be true even though they are. Personal recountings are nice, but seeing them play out in animated form makes them that much more significant. Humbled by having children yet ever the social butterfly, Billy still went through hell and back on his road to recovery. He describes going through heroin withdrawals as being akin to one’s skeleton trying to break free from their body. Unlike many documentaries, Billy Idol Should Be Dead goes underneath the surface to expose the flaws rather than to pretend they never existed in the first place. The animated bits are easily the most artistic aspect of a doc that otherwise samples vintage footage, MTV clips, and music videos to get the message across.

BIRD IN HAND

(Written by Intern, Allie Frydrych) Unlike other typical family dramedies, Bird in Hand unfolds less as a tidy narrative and more as a methodological puzzle. Why does a seemingly carefree woman want to settle into marriage? What might she be hiding in this contradictory desire? Writer/director Melody C. Roscher resists easy answers. Her protagonist, Bird (Alisha Wainwright), remains elusive—but one ethereal dream sequence, a fleeting vision of familial reunion in a barren woods, offers just enough emotional clarity to ground her chaos. Bird moves through a series of unstable relationships, including a mother who shifts between warmth and cruelty and neighbors whose kindness masks ulterior motives. The tension lies in watching her place trust in others not always out of desire, but necessity. She emerges as a lonesome, tireless lead, longing to be cared for by people unwilling or unable to provide that care. Her pursuit may frustrate, especially with Roscher’s tendency toward elliptical conversations, but we follow her, hoping she will succeed. She falls short—but that refusal to resolve is where Bird in Hand finds its wisdom. The people we want to save us often cannot, and those who challenge us just might. Roscher suggests this purposeful ambiguity from the start, with a shaky handheld style that mimics Bird’s own uncertainties. From its jolting cold open to its deliberately anticlimactic conclusion, her debut embraces instability and the mess of human connection. No big catharsis awaits, but there is disorder, movement, and maybe growth.

BIRTHRIGHT

(Written by Intern, Kendall Martin) Australian comedy-thriller Birthright is an ambitious debut that stumbles in its conclusion, but is buoyed by strong ideological substance. Freshly evicted from their flat and unemployed, Cory (Travis Jeffrey) and his pregnant wife, Jasmine (Maria Angelico), have no choice but to stay with his parents in their suburban McMansion. From the instant they arrive, Richard (Michael Hurst) and Lyn (Linda Cropper) are scheming to get them to leave. As characters rapidly spiral out of control, writer/director Zoe Pepper proves a deft and intentional new voice. She manages to keep a laser-focus on themes of generational inequality and familial legacy throughout, though perhaps to a fault. This musing on abstract ideas detracts from the humanity of the performances–only Jasmine is really given much depth outside of the central conflict. Her scene applying makeup with her mother-in-law is particularly strong, confronting the depth of the divide between these people head-on. The uninspired cinematography and editing don’t take anything away from the enjoyably witty script, but they also fail to add much worthy of acclaim. The first two acts remain compelling, filled with escalating absurdist gags. The third act, however, reaches unconvincingly shocking new heights as the desperate younger couple grapples with their prosperous older counterparts. The four leads are all game for this twist, but can’t seem to shift into a higher gear to keep up. Despite flimsy motivations, watching the gleeful destructiveness is riveting. Additionally, the messaging is reinforced by this shocking left turn, remaining clear and precise, if a bit heavy-handed. While not fully able to make a legacy for itself, Birthright remains an entertaining and earnest piece from an up-and-coming auteur.

BLUE SCUTI: TETRIS CRASHER

(Written by Intern, Alecia Wilk) A few years into the layman’s introduction to the realm of e-sports, history is already underway in the world of competitive gaming. BLUE SCUTI: Tetris Crasher takes a step inside the life of a child titleholder. WIllis Gibson, known by his screen name Blue Scuti, was thirteen years old when he accomplished what no human had done before—crashing Tetris. In a game that has been understood as unbeatable since its invention in 1989, this news swept the nation. However, it is hard to understand the magnitude of this accomplishment as an outsider to its eccentric circle of fevered players and followers. Director and Producer Chris Moukarbel assumes the duty to shed light on this globally-connected body of block-dropping fanatics. Peeking inside the houses of live-streaming teens, and listening as they gush over highlights in the game’s history and trash talk beloved opponents, appreciation comes quick. Tetris might be thought of as everyman’s game. It is universally accessible—with no language and few rules. A classic, decades older than most of the hobbyists featured, it may even be taken for a novice’s pick. Mistake that to mean it cannot be exhilarating though, and BLUE SCUTI: Tetris Crasher will prove you wrong. The sheer speed and skill of the stackers in the Classic Tetris World Championship (CTCW) is astonishing. The game looks completely different at their level. Even the playing style is evolved, with Willis using technique hacks, like “rolling,” to keep up with the demands of exceedingly difficult stages. Over countless hours spent racing against a rain of pixels, Willis gleans something like restoration from his pastime. When the brace-faced, shaggy-haired prodigy made history for crashing the game in January 2024 (effectively beating the programming), he was also grieving. Tetris doubled as a therapeutic distraction during the passing of Willi’s father, Adam Gibson. Advancing so far gains new meaning. BLUE SCUTI: Tetris Crasher is a marvelous initiation to the wonderful world of professional Tetris. Thanks also to Chris Moukarbel’s sensitivity to the subject, this spotlight gets a look at the world champion’s support system expressing some real vulnerability, inviting the audience in a well-rounded admiration for the player and the game.

charliebird

(Written by Allison Brown) Off the bat, a tinge of disappointment will stem from discerning the strange square aspect ratio chosen for Charliebird, although it gradually becomes less distracting. While not entirely unpleasant, this teen cancer drama is sadly forgettable, leaving a lot to be desired. Al (Samantha Smart) lives a relatively mundane life in a trailer, carrying deep-seated childhood trauma that she ironically relives each day through her job at St. Cecilia Children’s Hospital. Working as a music therapist, she is assigned to care for notoriously difficult patient Charlie (Gabriela Ochoa Perez). At only seventeen, she must recover from a kidney transplant intended to cure stage three nephroblastoma after spending four years in and out of the hospital. As the trope goes, the two initially hate each other’s guts and quickly grow inseparable. Predictable as ever, one can see where the story is going once Charlie gets sent home with a third of the runtime remaining. While Smart and Perez have decent enough chemistry, their banter cannot make up for shortcomings elsewhere. Al’s co-workers are written paper-thin, only existing to provide the protagonist with someone to converse. Destructive behavior including drunk driving gets written off with zero consequences, with director Ewing seemingly expecting the audience to overlook the whole ordeal. Time spent away from Charlie dully features far too many scenes amounting to nothing as Al drives between locations. Al’s relationship with her father feels unremarkable, failing to justify the amount of time on screen. Light flares are so heavily overused that, although they may have initially appeared metaphorical or artistically intentional, they eventually make the cinematography appear amateurish. Al’s sudden heart-to-heart with Charlie’s dad, Jack (Gabe Fazio), feels out of character, given they’ve barely shared more than a few greetings, and have never even been alone together before. However, the makeup in this little indie is surprisingly a highlight, featuring milder Euphoria-esque styles that showcase Charlie’s creativity as an artist. Charliebird possesses great potential as a compelling character study, but the filmmakers falter in its execution.

DOG OF GOD

Full review at the link.

DRAGONFLY

Full review at the link.

THE END OF QUIET

(Written by Allison Brown) The End of Quiet will truly test one’s patience. Described as a scientific study of technological isolation in the Quiet Zone, co-directors Kasper Bisgaard and Mikael Lypinski ultimately paint an entirely different documentary. Opening with stunning, blue-tinged landscape cinematography and tiny subjects supplemented with an eerie score, a feel for our minute place in the universe is depicted off the bat. A narrator discussing the consequences of modern radio interference with faint extraterrestrial signals appears intermittently, but the mundane people living in this essentially unremarkable town are the primary focus. This stereotypical Southern community loves their guns, flags, freedom, cigarettes, and gullibly interpret all things conspiracy as fact. Offensive one-liners from these mostly uneducated subjects are rampant. Subtitle divisions into sections add absolutely nothing to the narrative. Subject matter as presented is significantly less interesting than the filmmakers think; more focus in production would have left a mere short. A better film would have examined how people living in an anachronistic culture communicate and learn in the absence of cell phones and internet. Sadly, Bisgaard and Lypinski mislead their audience with a load of trashy slop.

EVERYTHING’S GOING TO BE GREAT

Full review at the link.

FIOR DI LATTE

In my college days, Tim & Eric: Awesome Show, Great Job! became a full-blown obsession for my friends. We would cackle-laugh to the stupidly ridiculous songs, skits, and oddities. For this very reason, following one half of the comedy duo at the center into film seemed like a no-brainer. Tim Heidecker, who has been popping up in solid character work for years now, leads Fior Di Latte as an utterly despicable misogynist who becomes fixated on a certain titular perfume from Italy. In sniffing the scent over and over again, Mark finds inspiration, transporting himself back to the clandestine vacation in Italy where he first met the beautiful Francesca (Marta Pozzan). Mark goes around in an Italy hat and Italy activewear, and brings along clothes accidentally drenched in the perfume so he can catch a whiff wherever he may be. What follows is a series of increasingly ridiculous situations that almost always end with Mark sniffing something, or going out of his way to replicate what he felt back in Italy. Kevin Kline shows up as a composer/perfumer able to replicate the Fior Di Latte into a bottle, which only further drives Mark’s obsession. His maniacal nature leads to a varied series of increasingly toxic situations, a couple of random musical numbers, and disgusting outbursts at Francesca. There are some interesting directorial flourishes here, and the idea that Mark would be so obsessed with celebrity culture that he collects any random piece of paraphernalia made me giggle. But there isn’t enough here to sustain a full length movie, or to provide the necessary laughs-per-minute ratio that fans of Tim & Eric would expect. By the 200th sniff, the whole thing started to stink of silliness.

HORSEGIRLS

Full review at the link.

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON

Full review at the link.

IN COLD LIGHT

In Cold Light, as the newest vehicle for genre star Maika Monroe (It Follows, Longlegs), was one of my most anticipated movies of 2025’s iteration of Tribeca. An ensemble cast joins her that includes CODA Oscar-winner Troy Kotsur and Twister legend, Helen Hunt. Monroe is exceptionally good, with a performance that feels ready to burst from the confines of its constricting nature. After a two-year time jump, Ava (Monroe), on parole, once again gets involved with drug-running alongside her brother, Tom (Jesse Irving, VC Andrews’ Heaven). This leads down a road of double crossing, baby snatching, and tons of shakycam. That Hunt shows up for literally one scene without much of her appearance hinging on the plot will frustrate fans of the underutilized legendary actress. Unfortunately, despite the pedigree of all involved, In Cold Light was an insurmountable disappointment bogged down by a poor story structure, depressing scenarios, confusing messaging, and jarring shaky camera movements that are a little too Bourne-style for my personal taste.

INSIDE

(Written by Intern, Kendall Martin) Australian indie darling Inside is a prison drama that provides a fascinating, if unfocused, character study within its titular setting. Anchored by strong turns from Guy Pearce, Cosmo Jarvis, and Vincent Miller, it manages to effectively convey the complex and intriguing relationships between its three leads, despite a poorly executed first act. Mel (Miller) is a young inmate newly transferred from juvenile detention who, at first, is cellmates with Mark Shepard (Jarvis), Australia’s most despised criminal and the current prison chaplain. Eventually, however, he is recruited by new cellmate Warren (Pearce), a veteran prisoner on the eve of his parole, to murder Shepard. This complicated plot is crudely set up, and its convoluted nature unfortunately draws the spotlight away from the compelling paternal triangle at the center of the characters’ relationships. While major themes of religion, family, and the morality of violence are flirted with throughout, the resulting motif is nothing more than a mixed bag of muddled thoughts. For example, Warren’s and Mel’s fraught relationships with their respective families are confronted at points, but the precise ways in which these similar experiences drive them together are only briefly addressed. Additionally, Shepard’s role as the prison chaplain, and the influence that his Christian faith has on him, are aspects of his character that are prominently featured, but never deeply explored. In spite (or perhaps because) of this lack of depth, however, the central trio of performances warrants recognition. Jarvis in particular steals the show, imbuing Mark Shepard with an air of odd charisma that keeps the audience guessing as to his true colors for almost the entire 104-minute runtime, proving once again that he is an adept and capable rising star. Ultimately, the outcome is less than the sum of its parts, as Inside comes across as vaguely unfinished, an almost contemplative character study that imprisons those characters in service to a roughly developed plot, rather than setting them free in order to fully scrutinize themselves.

IT’S DOROTHY

Full review at the link.

LEADS

(Review by Intern, Kendall Martin) A big swing and miss from writer/director Bryan Poyser, Leads attempts to tap into John Hughes-esque heart, but this meandering affair contains little in the way of soul or substance. Single mother, one-time indie darling, and current drama lecturer at the local college, Mags (Heather Kafka), leads a tough but sustainable life. Meanwhile, younger brother Merritt (Justin Arnold), on the run from assault charges, drifts into town and decides to join her acting class. Familial drama and comedic hijinks ensue, as both of their lives are changed. Scattered from the start, Leads never manages to find its footing. The lighting and cinematography occasionally evoke the nostalgic eighties vibe that Poyser and company want to capture, but more often end up feeling flat and dull. Though the cast do their best with an incredibly lackluster script, they deliver largely uninspired performances. In particular, the inconsistent southern accent and supposedly charismatic personality of Justin Arnold’s Merritt read more as creepy and strange than endearing. However welcome the inclusion of numerous LGBTQ+ characters may be, these identities are not explored in any meaningful depth. Even more frustratingly, a problematic age gap (either ignored or played for laughs) dramatically undercuts the already underutilized lesbian relationship. The most memorable scenes here stand out for entirely the wrong reasons, as these attempts at romance or humour fall completely flat, and, frankly, are incredibly uncomfortable to watch. Even stumbling into a rushed attempt at a heartfelt ending can’t redeem this rambling mess–Leads is one better left waiting in the wings.

LEMONADE BLESSING

(Written by Intern, Alecia Wilk) Director Chris Merola vividly illustrates innocence as a scarlet letter in adolescence. Following John (Jake Ryan) into his first day of high school at a Catholic institution, the hormonally fevered air of puberty is immediately palpable. Lemonade Blessing perfectly represents contradiction as the natural environment of one’s early teens. All putting on a vulgar act, the bible school students misinform one another about adult themes, and their true feelings to cover up the childishness they share. John’s inner dissonance is particularly tearing, as he faces the battling thralls of religion, his frantically pious mother (Jeanine Serralles), and his willfully defiant first love (Skye Alyssa Friedman). This concoction of influences form a strong message about the parallels of ideology and identity formation. With universal emotional appeal, Merola also injects a perspective that is unique and poignant—that the faith followed out of fear can be just as mentally corrupting as sacrilege. As John’s mother and girlfriend are pitted against each other like angels and devils on his shoulder, his private life becomes an angst volcano. Capitalizing on the sardonic and theatrical inclinations of that age, dramatic irony bubbles and bursts in both comedic and raw beats. Details like Lillith’s layered tank-tops and John’s mannerisms bring the picture to life—so odd and perfect. Doing justice to the grating awkwardness of being fourteen, Merola’s scenes shift from second-hand embarrassment to sensitive poetics with grace. Real risks in character choice and overly dirty dialogue adds enough edge to catch the attention of the demographic it perfectly reflects. Combined with stirring gems of wisdom, Lemonade Blessing is a divine offering to the coming of age genre, with the potential to give audiences freedom and guidance in the sparring ring of high school.

LITTLE TROUBLE GIRLS

(Written by Intern, Alecia Wilk) Little Trouble Girls treats one transformative summer in Lucija’s (Jara Sofija Ostan) life like a sensory museum. Driven more by sensuality than story, it leaves a stickiness like a memory recalled. In an excursion to an Italian covent, a Slovenian girls’ choir put each other through serried, sleepaway camp style bonding. Sixteen-year-old Lucija is terribly tempted by one of her older classmates, Ana-Marija (Mina Švajger), making the trip feverish, tantalizing, and claustrophobic. Little Trouble Girls takes great interest in watching the girls of the choir. Their beauty, lure, and breath sounds permeate every frame. The shots are narrow, placing subjects in tight and static focus, making Lucija’s repressed mannerisms read like a flashbulb family portrait. By comparison, the other girls’ physicality comes off naturally erotic. Lucija ogles at everyone. Her character is composed of choreographed lonerism and longing stares. The act of watching often serves as a catalyst or stand-in for plot. Torn between religious loyalties and bodily desires, and bound by shame, our protagonist can look but not touch. Satisfaction is always just out of reach, and when she finally gets a taste, she calls for punishment. Disrupting the social harmony, her attempt at self-retribution turns the convent into a minefield of whispers, hushes, and snickers. With all eyes on Lucija, guilt becomes invasive. Urška Djukić individuates herself with this evocative directorial debut. Charged with proximity, she digs at viewers with quiet sound and titillating, understated visuals. Adding to the classes of Catholic guilt and coming of age, Little Trouble Girls is an optical memoir with a heavy girl-on-girl gaze.

MAN FINDS TAPE

Full review at the link.

OH HI!

(Written by Intent, Alecia Wilk) Sony Pictures Classics joins the sexual thriller resurgence, presenting Logan Lerman in leather restraints on the bed of an upstate cottage. Cashing in on the trend, director Sophie Brooks’ entry uses a comedic core to set itself apart. A drawn out joke marries a hostage concept to explore the emotional minefield of love in the time of dating apps. Covering a lot of ground tonally, Oh, Hi! is at its best when things are kept light. Molly Gordon’s late-20s, “just a girl” character, Iris, menacingly escalates what starts off as a romantic weekend getaway, then matched by Isaac’s (Logan Lerman) blameless delivery of the line which track-changes the relationship. Max (Geraldine Viswanathan) and Kenny (John Reynolds) make their mere presence laughable, nailing the millennial goofball hidden between the lines of sparsely-written characters. With ample comedic potential, efforts to switch the ambiance darker are disappointing. Leaning into Iris’ courtship psychosis, her self-awareness is used to acquit her delirium. Meanwhile, the script finds ways to blame Isaac and condemn a culture of crazy-making “softbois:” dates who seem sensitive and vulnerable but are just as noncommittal as their chivalry-averse counterparts, fuckboys. In more harrowing moments a Promising Young Woman level of vengeance is attempted, which feels out of place being based on a romantic ego wound. The toe-testing moralism, though mildly annoying, attempts absolution by way of an overall playfulness. Similar to Saltburn, though to a lesser effect, the central character dynamic reads as singularly inspired by a viral shitpost. Sexual thrillers are potent when they capitalize on psychology, but a choice to maintain Iris’ relatable innocence sacrifices that. In effect, sporadic dips into the uncanny or lovesick hysteria wind up feeling forced. Too many montages make the script feel stalled where it could be ramping up the comedic action. Turning a Hinge prince charming into a villain, Sophie Brooks makes jest of the pinnacle heartbreak in casual dating. The all-star cast has the perfect makings of a romantic comedy for a culture in which romance is dead.

ON A STRING

(Written by Allison Brown) On a String is a sharp deadpan comedy that draws raucous laughter when done right—and Isabel Hagen nails it. The writer/director/star, who could easily be Lili Reinhart’s long-lost twin, crafts an exceedingly relatable postgrad experience, clearly inspired by her own life. Giving her protagonist her own name, the filmmaker allows for a more personal infusion into the narrative. Both Hagen and co-star Ling Ling Huang are accomplished string musicians in their own right. A character often relegated to the background as a performer finally takes center stage. Violist Isabel bops around from gig to gig while living in her parents’ house, trying to maintain a sense of direction amid a stagnant home life with an emotionally withholding and critical family. Even immensely talented Juilliard graduates are not immune to the modern gig economy or imposter syndrome. Hagen cleverly skewers the artistic hustle—elite conservatory training will not stop Isabel from being mistaken for catering staff or from earning little to teach tone-deaf kids. Her career is full of small humiliations: playing weddings and funerals with a mismatched quartet, fielding overemotional clients, navigating passive-aggressive dynamics with bestie Christine (Huang), and distressing sexual tension with a student’s father (Frederick Weller). Background string recording sessions, concert support for vocalists, private lessons, and understated performances blur together, marking the quiet monotony of a working musician’s routine. Cinematographer Zac James Nicholson excels at uncomfortable close-ups, capturing awkward facial expressions and misread moments that compound the cringe in every frame. Hagen’s greatest strength here is that she doesn’t take herself too seriously. Isabel lacks clarity about what she wants out of life, and that is okay. The uncertainty makes her journey feel significantly more relatable. On a String strips away the pretension from classical music and leans into the chaos, discomfort, and quiet absurdity of everyday existence.

OUR HERO, BALTHAZAR

Full review at the link.

PARADISE RECORDS

Full review at the link.

PEOPLE AND MEAT

(Written by Intern, Alecia Wilk) Amid the Hallyu wave, Director Yang Jong-Hyun diverts from mainstream consumer tastes. People and Meat caters to the global appetite for Korean culture, but serves up scathing truths that burn the tongue. A look at the day jobs of three lonely 70-somethings quickly make unsavory socioeconomic realities clear, and their crimes it takes to live their last years deliciously make a Robin Hood tale. Each in poverty despite regular employment, Woo-sick (Jang Yong), Hyung-jun (Park Keun-Hyong), and Hwa-jin’s (Ye Su-Jeong) ways of life communicate an immediate sense of injustice. With a grunting start, Yang Jong-Hyun hammers in the tirelessness of one’s work during a lifetime in his nation. Documentary-like in observation, experiences which are typically suppressed from entertainment exports are afforded a remarkable inside look with an imaginative twist. Bringing together the silver-haired trio for an unlikely scheme, the norm of dining out is transformed into a ritual of rebellion. Fed by grade-A pork and adrenaline, they dine and dash at popular meat restaurants all across Seoul to heal their lonesome hearts and neglected taste buds. Repeated escapades strengthen their bond and reignite a feeling of youth. In a global marketplace where Korean food is all the rage, it strikes as especially unfair that native elders could be denied the pleasures of their country’s recipes for so long. Writing in quirks surrounding their aging bodies, they become the most charming band of thieves. Linked-arm, limping escapes from barbeque restaurants make chase scenes both hilarious and adorable. Their kahoots mirror childhood, both in conviction and execution, such that the legal repercussions they are eventually caught up in appear grossly over-punitive. Once again drained of its spirit, the arc speaks to the necessity of good food and friendship in determining quality of life, and to the inhumanity of a society where citizens end their lives devoid of both joys. Communicating devastating material realities and inventing heartwarming plots to avenge its victims, People and Meat makes a poetic defense of stealing the simple joys in life.

PINCH

(Written by Intern, Allie Frydrych) A frenetic energy runs through Pinch: characters drifting in and out of frame, musical interludes, moments stacked upon moments. It is the kind of energy that might evoke excitement—or terror. Within ten minutes, it becomes clear that it leans toward the latter. That restlessness starts to reveal itself as a reflection of protagonist Maitri’s (writer/director Uttera Singh) inner turmoil. How do you rebel in a society determined to stifle and dismiss you? After surviving an unthinkable assault, Maitri responds. But her decision, though defiant, carries complicated consequences for both herself and her community. It asks whether the pursuit of justice is always altruistic, or if revenge sometimes cloaks a more self-serving instinct. As Maitri’s quest intensifies, her actions begin to mirror those of the very person who hurt her—inflicting harm on other women, then pleading for absolution on her own terms. Her journey interrogates the murkiness of speaking out: the hope of protecting others weighed against the risk of further harm, personal shame, or backlash within a tightly woven cultural structure. Yet despite the weight of these questions, Pinch ultimately adopts an optimistic view. Singh imagines a world where even a once-biased community can shift and where both survivors and perpetrators might move toward reconciliation. The story’s ending, which hinges on exposé-style social media footage, may stretch believability. Still, in the wake of #MeToo, the image of a support network rallying behind a survivor feels not only hopeful, but necessary. Let us hope Pinch‘s message does not remain fiction.

QUEENS OF THE DEAD

Full review at the link.

RE-CREATION

(Written by Allison Brown) Starting off weak with nearly a paragraph of text introduced in the first three minutes overlaid on archival footage, Re-Creation makes a poor directorial choice to tell, not show when getting the audience acquainted with this real-life trial. More docu-fiction than narrative, fans of Vicky Krieps and Colm Meaney are likely to be disappointed. Meaney, in particular, has one line in the entire film. While Krieps is as talented as ever, the script offers too little substance for her to fully showcase her abilities. Co-directors Jim Sheridan and David Merriman dryly share facts of the case through recordings, photographs, newspaper clippings, and video testimonies. We are fed minimal details about Sophie Toscan Du Plantier’s life to humanize her ahead of the incident. As a result, some may find it difficult to connect with her murder or find the strength to even care about the discussion at hand. Like last year’s fantastic Juror #2, the decision is made to put jurors at the center rather than lawyers, but the courtroom proceedings are strangely absent. Without hearing the arguments firsthand, recollections after the fact feel monotonous and boring. The amount of irresolute evidence laid out is also overwhelming and hard to follow. Jurors themselves are one-dimensionally written. Characters lack names outside of their juror number, and are given barely a backstory, barring a few small traumas shared that may lead to bias. Most debate takes place in one location, which would be sufficient if there was more to grab on to in the narrative, but it just drags along. The buildup of information and speculation yields little payoff. This will leave many viewers feeling as though the ninety minutes spent with Re-Creation were a waste of time.

RELAY

From director David Mackenzie (Hell or High Water, Starred Up) and Oscar-winner Riz Ahmed (Sound of Metal, Nightcrawler) comes a tech-based thriller that should have been one of the highlights of the festival. Instead, Relay promises intrigue and espionage, then delivers prolonged typing, dull characters, and the cinematic equivalent of watching someone send emails. Riz Ahmed plays Tom, a faceless operative in a high-tech black market “relay” service, a discreet middle man who arranges communication between clients and criminals, ensuring anonymity. When Tom gets assigned to monitor a whistleblower for a seemingly dangerous insect-resistant strain of wheat, he becomes a little too enamored with his subject, Sarah (Lily James, Cinderella, Baby Driver). The relay system means that large swaths of Relay are spent with characters watching screens and forwarding messages. Talking through the words of others rather than establishing a true connection, there is a general wonkiness to the distant connection between Tom and Sarah that never manages to culminate in a payoff. The final act attempts to deliver long-awaited action, with a flat Sam Worthington showing up for a paycheck in between Avatar movies, and the extremely talented Willa Fitzgerald (Strange Darling, The Goldfinch) wasted altogether. Much of this can be blamed on a script that refuses to do anything substantial as it constantly moves the pawns around the board. With dull visuals, an undercooked twist, and an unsatisfying conclusion, Relay mostly feels like a waste of time.

ROSEMEAD

Full review at the link.

SHAM

Full review at the link.

THE SHADOW SCHOLARS

(Written by Intern, Kendall Martin) The Shadow Scholars provides an unflinching exploration into the lives of the people working in an industry on the fringes of legality. Documentarian Eloise King follows Kenyan-born Oxford professor Patricia Kingori, as she investigates Kenya’s essay mills. From the United States, to China, to the UK, wealthy collegiates in the global north spend billions of dollars a year to have their essays written for them by “shadow scholars” like Mercy and Chege. Nairobi is the epicenter of this online market, with a highly educated but underemployed population. As Kingori compiles her research, it becomes increasingly clear that contract cheating proves to be a microcosm for global inequities. In one particular interview, Chege points out: “They want our ideas; they just don’t want us.” Kingori’s research is broken down into thought-provoking, digestible pieces in easily understood ways. Additionally, King and her crew have shot a gorgeous piece here, providing all the more reason to be captured by Professor Kingori’s search. While the ninety-eight minute runtime feels a bit stretched, somehow it also felt unfinished. This is such a wide-ranging topic, with so many permutations and ethical questions attached, that one single documentary can hardly answer every single inquiry. While there is an admirable attempt to investigate everything, unfortunately this is a bit of an overreach. For example, an anonymous American student claims to have sold her own nude photos in order to pay a shadow scholar to write her paper–a wild anecdote demonstrating just how thoroughly embedded this dilemma is, yet this student is only heard from one other time. It seems this undergraduate could be the subject of an entirely different narrative, one less concerned with the workers writing the essays, but more focused on those paying for them. Though maybe not an A+, The Shadow Scholars receives a passing grade. Despite biting off more than it can chew, it still beautifully draws attention to an under-recognized issue.

SHE DANCES

Full review at the link.

SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL

Miley Cyrus’s new album, Something Beautiful, receives a lush visual companion in the same-titled fifty-three minute kaleidoscope of her creative vision. Barely a movie and more an extended music video, Something Beautiful still encapsulates this era of Cyrus in a major way. Each track is split into distinct segments, separated by giant white text that covers the screen to announce the arrival of a different track. Being my first time hearing any of these songs, I was taken by the ethereal seduction of it, distinct poppy tracks that evoke different periods of music. From both a visual and song standpoint, “Something Beautiful,” “Easy Lover,” and “Walk of Fame” were my favorites. As the title track explodes into sparks and rubble while we follow Miley through a misty stage, directors Cyrus, Jacob Bixenman, and Brendan Walter help to set the table for a sprawling compilation of tracks. Only a couple are visually weak but still melodically textured—in this case, that honor goes to “Golden Burning Sun,” which mostly just features Cyrus flouncing her hair around on a motorcycle. Definitely don’t come for a plot—Something Beautiful is all songs and layered visuals without the narrative. Fans of Miley Cyrus will be in heaven, especially “if heaven exists.”

THE SQUARE

Gorgeously animated romantic drama The Square hails from Korea, weaving a tale of forbidden love against the backdrop of its native country. We follow Borg from Sweden, a fish out of water stationed in Korea alongside his omnipresent translator, Lee. Tension builds slowly, almost imperceptibly, but remains everywhere, from the chilly urban locales to the unspoken moments between characters. Underneath it all, Borg falls in love with Seo Bok-joo, a North Korean traffic officer—strictly forbidden, yet somehow a bright spot amidst the gloom. When Borg tries to extend his stay in Seoul, we are left wondering: is it for work, or for love? Borg and especially Seo Bok-joo are underwritten as characters. Latching onto them begets only surface level narrative complications, and a definite lack of depth may frustrate at times. What makes The Square stand out is its quiet devastation. Every frame feels heavy with emotion, and implied political ramifications. The animation truly excels, though its bleakness can feel overwhelming to manage. While The Square is incredibly well made, revisiting it over and over again feels entirely unnecessary.

TITAN: THE OCEANGATE DISASTER

Full review at the link.

TOW

Full review at the link.

THE TRAINER

In what has to be one of the most oddball returns in recent years, American History X director Tony Kay comes out of the woodwork with a confounding, ridiculous film about one man’s obsession with a Heavy Hat. Jack Flex (Vito Schnabel) allegedly doesn’t even work out. His chiseled physique can be attributed exclusively to his Troy-inspired revolutionary wellness tool. Looking like some strange cross between a Greek helmet and Batman Forever’s Riddler “Box,” crackling with electrical energy, the Heavy Hat could be a marketing miracle. That is, provided Jack Flex can actually get anyone to give the tool a proper chance. He fakes his way to success, trying to swindle Lenny Kravitz and Paris Hilton, both playing themselves, along with various involved parties. The supporting players are a lot of fun, especially Bee (Julia Fox), an assistant who oversteps trying to push Jack’s product to the next level. She also falls in love with the constantly-shirtless entrepreneur. Hilton plays a version of herself that leans into her dumb blonde persona. Other notables are Colleen Camp as a grumpy, horny executive, and Gina Gershon as tightly wound, updo-sporting CEO, Bob. Attempting to figure out just what the hell writer/lead star Vito Schnabel was going for here will cause even more question marks. The tone cannot seem to settle on one lane. How did they secure so many major cameos? The mere fact that celebrity endorsements are such a major part of the narrative almost reinforces the shoddy quality. All style and no substance, The Trainer is a zany fantasy with occasional glimmers of a hilarious premise hiding beneath the surface.

THE TRAVEL COMPANION

(Written by Intern, Kendall Martin) While an admirable feature debut effort for filmmaking duo Alex Mallis and Travis Wood, The Travel Companion struggles to achieve liftoff due to a bland script and a lack of lead chemistry. Simon (Tristan Turner), is a struggling documentarian who feels his one leg up on the competition is his ability to fly for free, courtesy of his roommate’s airline job. However, when this flatmate, Bruce (Anthony Oberbeck), starts dating more successful filmmaker Beatrice (Naomi Asa), Simon grows increasingly insecure, fixating on retaining his role as cohabitant and “travel companion.” Emerging filmmakers like Simon may resonate with themes of growing up and finding one’s place in the world, but the execution falls short. The “travel companion” gimmick is unnecessary and only detracts from the plot, as outside locales are never utilized. Cinematographer Jason Chui elevates the city setting with creative framing and excellent lighting, though this quality work is ultimately overshadowed by a mundane, dialogue-heavy script. Simon often references working on his documentary, Walls and the Spaces Between Us, featuring the pair’s travels, yet he is only ever shown filming one scene. This lack of development feels particularly egregious, as there is a wealth of untapped film-within-a-film narrative depth left tantalizingly just off-screen. Although Simon and Bruce reference past experiences that suggest a long and storied history, their dynamic never convincingly reflects the depth or familiarity of a decades-long friendship. Bruce feels miscast, lacking rapport with either of his seemingly much younger co-stars. Beatrice, meanwhile, has shamefully little agency, serving primarily as a symbol of Simon’s career aspirations and an object of desire for both men. The beginnings of something beautifully understated are buried in this flawed but well-shot piece, but The Travel Companion can’t quite seem to take flight.

TWINLESS

Full review at the link.

UNDERLAND

(Written by Intern, Alecia Wilk) As a documentary adapted from a book, Underland takes an unusual mode by default. Transformed to the visual medium, Robert MacFarlane’s inquiry into the underearth leaves a hauntingly stunning impression on the eyes. As if to cover each avenue of human discovery, the perspectives of three different fields braid into a perspective of the world beneath the surface we inhabit. Archaeologist Fatima Tec Pool and her team plunge into the Cenotes of Mexico to cartograph the caves walked by her Mayan ancestors. Somewhere within the drain systems under Las Vegas, Bradley Garrett shares the anthropological findings from urban exploring. Two kilometers underground of Canada, Mariangela Lisanti gives the camera crew an inside look at her work as a theoretical particle physicist at SNOLAB research facility. Penetrating the depths of Earth from various entry points across North America, each “astronaut of the underworld” speaks to their calling to probe our inner geology. Director Rob Petit makes unique choices for both nature and nonfiction features. Dramatically captured colors and textures make for point-of-view shots which awe, and the narration lands like verse, benefiting from poetic writing and Sandra Hüller’s deliberate delivery. In the space between chapters, black-and-white fuzzy film shots take the spotlight, framed in ample negative space which call to mind the void of unknown territory which lives below. It is clear there were no holds barred in cinematography, but the informative aspect expected from documentaries takes a backseat, possibly as a consequence. Underland depicts geology so stunningly it approaches mythos. However, viewers will leave realizing that to reach its depths, they must dive into the subject themselves.

WESTHAMPTON

Being a Long Island native, the beachy vibes and complex characterizations of Westhampton should have played to my precise sensibilities. The cast is filled with modern TV royalty, including Finn Wittrock (American Horror Story), Jake Weary (Animal Kingdom), and RJ Mitte (Breaking Bad). Yet, there was an essential ingredient missing from this meta deconstruction of the impact cinema can have on a small town: stakes. From the second Tom (Wittrock) takes a trip back to his hometown of Westhampton plagued by a tragedy in his past, the setup of a redemption arc and path to forgiveness is immediately obvious. The best aspect of the film ends up being the movie within a movie, also called Westhampton. This black-and-white wish fulfillment piece makes for an engaging time capsule. If taken with only these sequences, there’s a beauty and style that lacks from Westhampton proper. Also missing from the main narrative are those same textures of character the flashbacks contain. So many actors pop in for tiny roles that add very little to the story. Their arcs often feel half-baked, with Wittrock’s Tom the only one with a true arc of note. RJ Mitte’s Fitz remains one of the few bright spots, whilst Amy Forsyth (Hellfest) plays an intriguing potential love interest, and Jake Weary’s Dickie shows up to do little more than constantly beat the everloving shit out of Tom. Some of the scene compositions are truly unique, such as long shots down a hallway, billowing curtains in a surreal maze, or carside conversations with the focal point being windows or mirrors. In making a journey towards letting go, writer/director Christian Nilsson also loses the audience.

WHAT MARIELLE KNOWS

(Written by Intern, Alecia Wilk) Refusing to reduce its focus to a single motif, What Marielle Knows nimbly explores a powerful blend of crises plaguing motherhood, modernity, and our youth. Opening on a slap in the face, Marielle (Laeni Geiseler) is cursed with a magic ability. Through some kind of telepathic glitch, she experiences her parents’ whole days as if daydreams or her own memories. Running the white lies of adulthood through the moral rigidity of a child spells out trouble. The development cracks open the family of three’s psyche. Able to access everything they hear and say, the lies which mediate her parents’ individual lives and marriage are exposed. Cleverly following the inciting slap with a detour to her mom’s work life visually implies the real arbiter of violence is born from a mother’s masked unhappiness. A look into the office reveals an intimate moment with a coworker. What starts as some mundane venting turns sexually mature, as Julia (Julia Jentsch) and Max (Mehmet Ateşçi) work together, constructing fantasies for an affair aloud. Marielle’s omniscience is merciless—turning the gray area of some lewd workplace experimentation into an unforgivable mark of infidelity. With their daughter peering behind the veil of adult decorum and dissonance, appearances cannot be kept up. Julia and Tobias’ (Felix Kramer) lives spin out when their privacy disappears. They try to negotiate how to continue with their open sore of a marriage and things get ugly. Graceless, open-kitchen attempts at cooperation perfectly render the experience of a child forced to endure a loveless marriage. Scenes are dressed minimally, keeping an almost airy emptiness which leaves ample room for growing tensions. Watching Tobias and Julia react to their daughters surveilling in respective fashions, the subtle gender imbalances in parenthood are exposed like nerves. Each guardian becomes so consumed by inhibition and denial it threatens the seams of domesticity, and office tensions unravel in absurdist outbursts. Director Frédéric Hambalek clearly knows what makes the modern family tick, and What Marielle Knows is a piercing inquiry into how a slight touch of the supernatural might destroy it completely.

THE WOLF, THE FOX, AND THE LEOPARD

(Written by Intern, Alecia Wilk) The Wolf, the Fox, and the Leopard strives for universal ego death, but adversely evokes repulsion. The atmosphere warms up with a rant from a twenty-something about degree depreciation, the climate crisis, time lost to the pandemic, and the threat of AI to job security. Masquerading as self-effacement, the lament voices the affliction of young adult generations: believing themselves destined for greatness that the world is robbing. Dylan’s (Lucas Lynggaard Tønnesen) vant sets a base heart rate, to be shocked, and ravaged by the true, untamed focus of the story. The feral girl, Wolf/One/Alice (Jessica Reynolds), is introduced in a shroud, hidden by matted hair, foliage, and darkness. This is a favor to suspension of disbelief, but makes the interlude in the forest a chore, enduring animalistic noises that squirm in the ear without much visual distraction. In a turn of chapters, One is combed of her savage instincts and made a daughter to Ellias (Nicholas Pinnock) and Wynona (Marie Jung). An abstract idea of dystopia looms in the background, gleaned from blunt exposition. Meandering on a half ocean liner, half home, The Wolf, the Fox, and the Leopard holds viewers hostage. Sifting through One’s life in moments in hard to watch moments which sometimes slant toward perversion, her upbringing is fraught with suppression until transported to another chapter. Tamed, and taken into the “Old World,” indistinguishable from present reality, she is met with her life story as a published novel. Troubled, exploited, and disgusted by the world of man-made illusions, she regresses. In reprieve from random efforts to disconcert, one can gather the sentiment that late stage capitalism and its social systems are dehumanizing. Yet, most of the runtime and oppressive dramatics happen aboard the “Sea Palace” amongst the family unit. In search of an outlook, all that is left is that human relationships are disfiguring to the nature of people and the environment. Director David Verbeek sees demise as a conclusion; apocalypse comes with a cleansing effect. The type of tale which begs to be animated rather than lived-acted, The Wolf, the Fox, and the Leopard is misanthropic at heart, and takes it upon itself to induce uneasiness as a small toll for the crime of participating in modern society.

Shorts

BABY TOOTH

Rarely do I go out of my way to watch a short film, especially since they are much harder to write about given their length. Baby Tooth played in front of The Trainer, and its zany tone perfectly matches what I expected from that oddity. Marina has an ad out, and a grizzled old man comes to collect. But there’s a very important question: has he come regarding the boat, or the tooth? The tooth plaguing Marina needs to be pulled, where the boat needs to be purchased. Both seem on the docket. This was preposterous and quite funny, especially when Marina goes off on a tangent showing off the boat to the potential buyer as if she’s on The Price is Right.

EASY MONEY

Easy Money only jumped on my radar when I met co-writer/star David Mazouz at the premiere of the excellent Our Hero, Balthazar; he told me he was at the festival for this short, and to make sure to check it out once it became available. So, here we are—Easy Money is a fast-paced jolt of energy with a killer hook. At 33 minutes in length, a few tweaks would probably make this full-length. We follow a wide range of people who come into contact with a $100 bill in seedy 1981 New York City. First, it flies from the window of an erratic taxi driver and his drunken patron; from there, it ends up in the hands of children, bored cashiers, drug dealers, strippers, pimps, and more. The style found within holds great promise for director Tony Mucci, who also co-wrote with Mazouz. One shot in particular that shows a point of view inside a gaping mouth as a gun is forced into it made me think of the dentist of Little Shop of Horrors. Stylistic flourishes are aplenty, and a dark sense of humor runs through it. In finding meaning through the way we spend $100, Easy Money lets Benjamin Franklin himself do the narrative heavy lifting.

NEVERLAND

Kid Cudi plus Brittany Snow plus Haley Joel Osment plus Kiernan Shipka equals a must see, whether it’s ten minutes or two hours in length. Neverland, partly a music video for Kid Cudi’s newest single, is also an excellent vampiric delight with plenty of severed heads, gouged throats, and dead bodies to go around. It feels partly like an ode to The Lost Boys, featuring classic fanged vamps and impressive practical gore effects—no surprise there, given the involvement of genre mainstay Ti West. Shipka and Cudi make a compelling duo as they bite their way through a carnival. This one really impressed me, as it carries a signature style, and boasts the production value of Jordan Peele’s Monkeypaw Studios. If any of these shorts were to be made into a full movie, it should certainly be this one.

Television

THE PRICE OF MILK

(Written by Intern, Alecia Wilk) The Price of Milk introduces itself with a glorious dairy shower. This Indy 500 tradition of dousing oneself with milk will likely strike some as uncouth to say the least. To its defense, talking heads cut in to remind us that a big glass of milk is a beverage as American as baseball and apple pie. Still, the initial gawk or recoil such a scene triggers already reflects milk’s mutation in the public eye. In contemporary media, milk drinking can now be shorthand for perversion or psychopathy, a la Babygirl, No Country for Old Men, and Get Out. Once though, drinking one’s milk was a pop cultural staple. In The Price of Milk, Directors Nicholas Bruckman and Yoni Brook stitch together the milk industry as an odyssey in public relations. Centering the iconic and market-refiguring “got milk?” campaign, advertising plays as large a role as the milk production process itself. Dotting around different points and angles of the milk consumption process throughout time, there is a wide range of sources highlighted. With swift shifts between expert perspectives and chapters and no primary narrator, this can sometimes feel like a crash course video. Without making space for contemplation, the overstimulating style risks disengagement with viewers. However, even a half-digested watch would yield great insight. The Price of Milk is wildly informative, and successfully brings to light exactly how pervasive milk’s subsidies have become. The machine of dairy marketing is ubiquitous; Bruckman and Brook are sure to make that point clear. Tracking a history of consumers and small dairy farmers being dominated by the big business, this series enlightens the public to the lies and size of a long-time refrigerator staple.

SMOKE

Full review at the link.

WE WERE LIARS

Based on the novel by E. Lockhart, We Were Liars is Prime Video’s latest attempt at a mystery-driven young adult property. The pedigree of talented actors suggests it could be worthy of a watch, but the end product tells a different story. Cadence Sinclair (Emily Alyn Lind) returns to her family’s island estate for the summer, surrounded by the Liars—her cousins Johnny (Joseph Zada) and Mirren (Esther McGregor), and her longtime friend Gat (Shubham Maheshwari). The family appears perfect at first glance, but beneath the golden surface lies a dark secret from the previous summer. Cadence remembers nothing about a mysterious accident that nearly killed her, and none of the Liars will even allow her to talk about it. As Cadence reconnects with Gat and feelings between them grow, she starts questioning the silence around what really happened. The pilot episode is a solid enough mood piece loaded with vague foreshadowing, if leaning too hard on YA tropes. The characters are glossy but not particularly compelling. The mystery feels notably hollow and undercooked, covered in the sheen of an Instagram filter. Despite some promising setup, the characters lack substance, and the mystery never takes on an addictive, binge-worthy quality during these initial two episodes. It’s all a bit too generic—there are far better YA adaptations out in the wild with bigger ideas on their mind.