This article is part of our coverage of the 2024 Sundance Film Festival.
Once again, even those unable to brave the snows and shuttle buses of the 2024 Sundance Film Festival were able to get a taste of the films premiering in Park City this year. Running the gamut from existential sci-fi to the most grounded of documentaries, getting to watch films via the festival’s virtual portal was, as always, a fascinating look at the great collection of titles assembled by the film’s programmers.
In addition to the films we were able to review in full over the past few days, there were additional films we were able to watch and evaluate as the festival progressed. So, below is the full roundup of everything the Consequence staff was able to watch remotely, featuring Laura Linney, John Early, Woody Harrelson, Carol Kane, Jason Schwartzman, Kristen Stewart, Steven Yeun, fictional typing teachers, journalists on a search for justice, and hummingbirds.
Below, find our reviews of this year’s festival, ranked via their letter grades. When some of these films will be available for the general public remains to be seen — some of them have yet to be acquired for distribution — but all of them offered us a unique look at the world around us. Which is sometimes all we can ask for.
— Liz Shannon Miller
Senior Entertainment Editor
Handling the Undead
Handling the Undead (Courtesy of the Sundance Film Festival)
Unfortunately, the 99-minute run time on Norwegian zombie drama Handling the Undead feels infinitely longer, and lands more as a meditation on grief than an intriguing entry into zombie cinema. What was explicitly teased as something of a reunion between The Worst Person in the World‘s Renate Reinsve and Anders Danielsen Lie was a major Sundance disappointment, at least for this writer — not only do those two actors never interact on screen, but we largely have no reason to care about any of the characters we encounter as Oslo slowly and so very quietly experiences a zombie awakening. Perhaps the incredibly sparse dialogue was designed to invoke a sense of dread, but the undead have never been quite so boring. — Mary Siroky
Grade: C-
Suncoast
Suncoast (Searchlight Pictures)
This Searchlight acquisition stars Nico Parker (daughter of Thandiwe Newton) as Doris, a teenage girl whose brother is dying of brain cancer, and whose mother (Laura Linney) is thus too distracted to notice that her daughter has both fallen in with a hard-partying crowd at her school, while also hanging out sometimes with a kindly decades-older stranger (Woody Harrelson).
As Stefan might say, this movie’s got everything (you’d expect from a Sundance movie): A period coming-of-age story inspired by the filmmaker’s own life, broader political themes, known stars like Linney and Harrelson playing eccentric characters, and a weepy conclusion. Suncoast finds a compelling way to weave in its aforementioned political themes, as the title comes from the hospice center where both Doris’s brother and Terri Schiavo are facing their final days, and the story it tells is deeply felt. However, the writing pushes Linney’s character from unlikeable to reprehensible at points, and Harrelson’s role feels more like a distraction than an essential part of the narrative. — L.S. Miller
Grade: C+
Little Death
Little Death (Courtesy of the Sundance Film Festival)
Director Jack Begert’s occasionally trippy blend of two interconnected stories set in Los Angeles delivers fits and spurts of brilliance during its first section, which focuses on Martin Soloman (David Schwimmer), a harried Hollywood writer in the middle of some big life changes, including a dream project opportunity (with some strings attached) and a chance encounter with his literal dream girl (Angela Sarafyan).
But those post-modern touches (including an abrupt gender shift, in which Gaby Hoffman appears as a female version of Martin) drift away with the second half of the story, focusing on two addicts (Dominic Fike, Talia Ryder) looking to improve their fortunes. Schwimmer’s great in a role that’s very much in his wheelhouse, but the second half never quite lives up to the first half, and the first half feels incomplete as a narrative, which leaves the whole film feeling like a disappointment. Doug Liman’s Go did all of this a lot better, over two decades ago. — L.S. Miller
Grade: C+
Stress Positions
Stress Positions (Neon)
It’s the summer of 2020, and Terry Goon (John Early) is just trying to do his very best. He’s depressed, slovenly, a gay man in Brooklyn succumbing to the most painful stages of twink death. His sugar daddy husband (Bob’s Burgers’s John Roberts) has run off with an African model, the party house he’s living in is falling apart, and he has to care for his 19-year-old nephew Bahlul (Qaher Harhash), a bedridden Moroccan model with a leg injury that all of Terry’s queer friends think he’s sleeping with. To add a cherry on top of this crap sundae, Terry’s woes come amid the early days of COVID-19 lockdowns — when everyone was paranoid, lonely, and waving an active can of Lysol at anything within reach.
Those with fainter stomachs (or who aren’t queer enough or know enough queer people to relate) might be turned off by Stress Positions’ abrasiveness and airy narrative structure. It imperfectly touches on the ways we hurt each other and find ourselves, about the possibilities an uncertain world open up for us. And, in Terry’s case, the ways scared people can fail to rise to those moments. — C. Worthington
Grade: B-
Exhibiting Forgiveness
Exhibiting Forgiveness (Courtesy of the Sundance Film Festival)
In Titus Kaphar’s debut feature, a Black painter, rising fast in the art world, suddenly finds himself confronted with realities of his past that were previously relegated to his conversation-generating paintings. Exhibiting Forgiveness focuses on breaking cycles of abuse, and all the messy work such an undertaking entails, and the film features a slew of lovely performances — André Holland, who many remember from his turn in Moonlight, acts as our emotional core. But sometimes, it felt like these characters were existing in different films: One actor might be playing a moment more muted, while a scene partner aims for awards-season prestige drama. Regardless, there’s plenty to enjoy and admire about this one, even through its uneven moments. — M. Siroky
Grade: B-
As We Speak
As We Speak (Courtesy of the Sundance Film Festival)
Through the eyes and ears of Bronx rap artist Kemba, director J.M. Harper tackles the thorny subject of rap lyrics in the context of the criminal justice system — should rappers be put on trial for the deeds they tout in their tracks? Harper mixes narrative and fictional elements, as we flit between Kemba interviewing everyone from Killer Mike to a group of Chicago drill rappers about the ways white judges, lawyers and cops weaponize Black people’s art against them.
It doesn’t all work; a few of the bigger swings miss hard, like a mid-film assertion that Shakespeare was the original MC, complete with rappers reading a scene from Romeo and Juliet in a bar. But its essential components touch on the valuable insight that the white imagination often can’t wrap its head around what Black music is actually saying, and the ways it says it. (Plus, MSNBC anchor and noted hip-hop fan Ari Melber makes a cameo, because how could he not?) – Clint Worthington
Grade: B-
Between the Temples
Between the Temples (Courtesy of the Sundance Film Festival)
Beautifully shot on 16mm (there really is something about film versus digital), this quiet platonic ideal of an indie stars Jason Schwartzman as a cantor in crisis, following the death of his wife. Unexpectedly, the person who seems capable of getting Ben out of his funk is his former grade school music teacher (Carol Kane), who wants his help getting ready for her adult bat mitzvah.
Playing somewhat like a much less dark Harold and Maude, Between the Temples is a bit slight, but brings with it a lot of sweetness, especially thanks to Schwartzman and Kane, and the chemistry they find together. Its nuanced exploration of how faith survives in dark times meshes well with its quirky sense of humor and strong supporting performances, including Triangle of Sadness breakout Dolly de Leon as one of Ben’s mothers. — L.S. Miller
Grade: B
Black Box Diaries
Black Box Diaries (Courtesy of the Sundance Film Festival)
“Close your eyes and take a deep breath if you need to.” This disclaimer, written in gentle cursive in the opening seconds of documentary Black Box Diaries, is journalist and filmmaker Shiori Ito’s empathetic content warning to her audience.
After all, the advice helped her during the process of making this film, a hard-hitting expose turned personal journal chronicling her journey to hold her alleged rapist Noriyuki Yamaguchi — a powerful journalist connected to then-president of Japan Shinzo Abe — to account. According to her, in 2015, Yamaguchi brought her to a hotel while intoxicated and sexually assaulted her; due to his high profile. she was encouraged not to come forward. (The doc points out that, in Japan, approximately 4% of rapes get reported to police.)
The film’s title (and the book she wrote before filming this) come from a phrase investigators used on her about cases like these: They exist in a black box, opaque to all who dare try to look into it. The truth lies within, but it’s impossible to actually see what happened.
Grade: B+
Thelma
Thelma (Courtesy of the Sundance Film Festival)
Elderly widow Thelma (June Squibb) is quietly enjoying her golden years when she gets a series of terrifying phone calls — first, someone who sounds like her beloved grandson Danny (Fred Hechinger), claims to be in legal trouble, then a strange man who tells her that she has to mail $10,000 to an P.O. box in order to save him. Panicked, Thelma does so, only realizing after the fact that she’s been duped, and that there’s nothing the police will do.
Thelma’s determined to do something, though — if only to prove to her concerned daughter and son-in-law (Parker Posey and Clark Gregg) that she’s still capable of living on her own. So, with some help from Ben (Richard Roundtree), one of her few remaining friends, Thelma sets out on her mission, one that will take her from… well, one corner of the San Fernando Valley to the other. Still, that’s a pretty big trip, on a mobility scooter.
There are several sequences where the comedy of Thelma really sings, but if the film was just a parody, it would maybe be a funny yet rough watch. Fortunately, its depth of feeling for its elderly characters elevates it to a strange hybrid that works remarkably well, with Squibb’s performance in particular bringing it all together.
Grade: B+
Dídi
Dìdi (Courtesy of Sundance Film Festival)
It’s the summer of 2008, a time characterized by Livestrong bracelets, Paramore Riot! posters, and the (low-key triggering) omnipresent background noise of AIM chatroom sound effects. Taiwanese-American Chris (Izaac Wang), who is known to his friends as Wang-Wang, fights with his older sister (Shirley Chen), is constantly embarrassed by his mother (Joan Chen), wants desperately to fit in with the cool older kids, and hopes to maybe even kiss a girl someday. In other words, he’s a teenage boy.
Sean Wang, as both writer and director, has turned in an excellent entry into the “call your mother” cinematic canon. He doesn’t flinch from the darker or more troublesome aspects of the early teen years, but he ultimately balances them expertly by handling his messy protagonist with generosity and care. In a movie that’s all scraped knees and braces wires, it’s the love at its center that we feel the most by the time the credits roll. — M. Siroky
Grade: B+
Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat
Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat (Courtesy of the Sundance Film Festival)
It’s rare for a documentary as dense and lengthy as Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat to be as thrilling and riveting as it is. Ironically, the secret to the film’s accessibility is the same thing its subjects used to wreak global havoc: Jazz as a smokescreen to cover up atrocities. Director Johan Grimonprez glides through a comprehensive portrait of the intersection between jazz, blues, and American intervention in the Global South — where Louis Armstrong’s visit to the Congo became a CIA front to destabilize its first post-colonial government, Dizzy Gillespie runs for president, and Abbey Lincoln and Max Roach raise hell at the UN Security Council.
Eclectic and unconventional in its presentation, Soundtrack’s density can throw you for a loop, especially if you don’t know the first thing about the geopolitics of the time and place. But it proves a healthy primer on the skeptical eye we should take towards world powers, and how even the art that’s meant to free us can be used against us. – C. Worthington
Grade: B+
Seeking Mavis Beacon
Seeking Mavis Beacon (Courtesy of the Sundance Film Festival)
At the center of Jazmin Jones’s documentary is the mystery of Mavis Beacon, the iconic computer typing teacher who also happens to be the fictional creation of a software company: The original Mavis Beacon’s face, though, belonged to a model hired by the company’s founders to pose for publicity shots and the box art — a woman whose identity has remained unknown all these years.
That’s what Jones and collaborator Olivia McKayla Ross want to change with their investigation, bringing the audience along as they try to determine the identity of the original model, and why she was eventually replaced as the face of the brand. Projects like these could easily tip over into self-indulgence, but while the filmmaker is very much the protagonist of this story, the personal touches included don’t overwhelm the story — and in fact add a certain sweetness, especially as both women face setbacks in their quest, and their friendship grows deeper. — L.S. Miller
Grade: B+
Good One
Good One (Courtesy of the Sundance Film Festival)
Sam (Lily Collias) is wise beyond her years, a 17-year-old girl with a solid head on her shoulders and an innate ability to notice and observe those around her. She’s set to go on a three-day hike in the Catskills with her fiftysomething type-A dad, Chris (James Le Gros), and his snarky lifelong friend, Matt (Danny McCarthy).
It’s tempting to come to Sundance looking for big, explosive debuts that cry out to be noticed, featuring showy performances from big stars or idiosyncratic tonal or genre swings. Good One offers the opposite of that, a movie that keeps all its combustion tightly coiled and contained. From the get, Donaldson has a tremendous command of pace and silence, laying the desperation of middle age (and how it looks to those whose lives are still ahead of them) bare with little more than a gesture or a closeup. It’s a killer debut for both her and Collias, and it will be exciting to see what both can do with the momentum a picture like this can provide. — C. Worthington
Grade: A-
Love Me
Love Me (courtesy of the Sundance Film Festival)
An extinction event has made the Earth a very empty place, so when a solar-powered “smart” buoy (Kristen Stewart) powers back on after many years, it doesn’t have anyone to make contact with. Until, that is, it wirelessly connects with a passing orbital beacon (Steven Yeun) that happens to be serving as “humanity’s tombstone.”
Love Me had the potential to be a little too precious in its storytelling — certainly there’s something profoundly cute about two robots falling in love, as any Wall-E fan will tell you. What keeps the narrative balanced is the raw bleakness of the setting: Me and Iam themselves don’t have the easiest relationship, the rough edges of which provide plenty of narrative ups and downs. And more importantly, there’s no hope for humanity’s return, no sense that future generations might be revived thanks to Me and Iam.
Instead, Me and Iam serve as humanity’s final legacy, an unexpected but profound one, thanks to the nuanced way that both Me and Iam begin their first steps towards self-awareness. It makes you consider what we’ll leaving behind as a species, should our time on the planet come to an end. But it also makes you want to appreciate what we all have, while we’re here. Like the miracle of a glass of water. Or a Blue Apron delivery. — L.S. Miller
Grade: A-
Kneecap
Kneecap (Courtesy of the Sundance Film Festival)
Lucky for us, As We Speak isn’t the only film at Sundance examining the intersection between hip-hop and the power of language. A fictionalized origin story for the very real Irish-language rap group Kneecap, Rich Peppiatt’s feature debut spins the freewheeling cinematic language of Edgar Wright and Guy Ritchie into a fun, heartwarming, and suitably raunchy celebration of the Irish language.
Liam Óg, Naoise Ó Cairealláin, and JJ Ó Dochartaigh play amped-up versions of themselves, turning in suitably charming performances as three Irish losers who find brotherhood and identity in their vulgar, politically charged tracks. More than causing trouble or pissing off the peelers, Kneecap’s mission is to give the deeply endangered Irish language new life, one balaclava-ed scream at a time. Even without Michael Fassbender lending his star power as Ó Cairealláin’s father, Kneecap is a cracking good time. – C. Worthington
Grade: A-
Every Little Thing
Every Little Thing (Courtesy of the Sundance Film Festival)
Before watching the Sundance documentary Every Little Thing, I had no idea that the Bob Marley song I would have told you was called “Every Little Thing’s Gonna Be All Right” was actually called “Three Little Birds.” Marley’s lyrics don’t specify if the three little birds pitched by his doorstep are hummingbirds, though — likely not, because if they were hummingbirds, they wouldn’t stay still.
The bright cute beauty of those hummingbirds is the immediate, albeit shallow, draw of Every Little Thing. Yet as director Sally Aitken’s film progresses, letting the audience come to understand its main subject better, it grows deeper than that, bringing us to an entirely new way of seeing the world.
The center of the film, and its dominant persona, is Terry Masear, who operates a hummingbird rescue operation out of her Los Angeles home, a large enough house to contain multiple indoor and outdoor enclosures and cages to facilitate the recovery of injured or abandoned birds that are brought to her for care. There’s something particular about hummingbirds that makes them special to her: “You come ready-made with the empathy,” Terry says at one point. “You don’t need to develop it — it’s already there, because of your own struggles.” — L.S. Miller
Grade: A