MEADOWLARKS
Based in part on her 2017 film BIRTH OF A FAMILY, Tasha Hubbard brings her scripted narrative debut to TIFF 50. MEADOWLARKS stars Michael Greyeyes, Carmen Moore, Alex Rice, and Michelle Thrush as four Cree siblings who were separated by the Sixties Scoop, who are meeting for the first time as adults.
Performances are fantastic. Each character is incredibly nuanced. Four siblings with varying goals for the trip and vastly different personalities. But what links them is far deeper than the ways in which they were raised by white families.
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José Condessa creates a vibrant and charming character. He is sensitive and caring, everything a woman desires in a man. Condessa is dazzling. Ayden Mayeri gives June a true egocentric millennial with an unresolved emotional trauma vibe, which is precisely what Lilian T. Mehrel intended. Mayeri effortlessly glides into June’s arc. Amira Casar takes on Lela with a lived-in authenticity and passion. She holds each frame with her powerful presence. These two women share gorgeous chemistry. 


However, the underlying generational trauma manifests in a contentious mother-daughter relationship. Mola uses humor and cutting words as shields. Patrick Kirst‘s score captures each beat, whether melancholy or joy. Sonam wishes for her to stay for all the reasons one would expect a loved one to feel.



THE SHADE
Laura Benanti plays the family matriarch, Renee. She adds authentic warmth to every role. Even if her scenes are few and far between, she steals every single one. Dylan McTee plays the eldest brother, Jason. He exudes hurt with an overly aggressive demeanor that perfectly suits the role.
There are a few particularly memorable shots by cinematographer Tom Fitzgerald. Heather Benson and the makeup department give us startling work. They deserve all the applause.
What gets the pulse-pounding is undeniably well done. Chipman and cowriter David Purdy use dreams as a gateway to terror. Perry Blackshear‘s
Filmmaker Patrick Dickinson brings audiences a nuanced tale of loss and love in COTTONTAIL. Following the death of his wife, Kenzaburo travels with his son and his young family to fulfill his late wife’s last wish, to scatter her ashes at Lake Windemere in England. The film flashes back in time, giving us intimate details of the love story between Kenzaburo and Akiko.
Tae Kimura gives an award-worthy performance as Akiko. The depth is mesmerizing. You will remember it. Lily Franky delivers a stunning complexity in Kenzaburo. Dickinson skillfully draws out the rift between him and his son Toshi (a fantastic Ryo Nishikido). The built-up guilt and regret flow off the screen as Franky moves from scene to scene. So, too, does the fierce adoration for his wife.
Dickinson places the audience in a precarious emotional state once we witness the hardships of Akiko’s progressing condition and Kenzaburo’s increasing frustrations with losing the wife he vowed to love through thick and thin. The discussion of the impact of acting as a primary caregiver hangs above the film like a dark cloud, allowing the redemption narrative to hold your heart. COTTONTAIL is about the individuality of grief, keeping secrets, and human connection. It is an undeniably beautiful and affecting film.
Starring Academy Award® Nominee 


Move Me No Mountain
Written, directed, edited, and shot by Deborah Richards, Indie Vegas Film Festival 2024 selection MOVE ME NO MOUNTAINS is a dark meditation on grief and healing.
The script dives headfirst into the plight of the unhoused from every perspective, giving us a wide range of backstories in the characters Jenna crosses paths with. The film’s premiere comes at an auspicious moment in history as The Supreme Court has agreed to hear a complicated case that may make homelessness illegal. Richards handles the issue with the care and respect it deserves. 


Judith/Margot’s curated existence managing two identities and two families begins to crumble, exposing her lies, motives, and underlying trauma.
Virginie Efira wows audiences as a woman wearing all the hats. Effortlessly embodying each distinct persona, Efira proves, once again she is a star. It is a balancing act of power structures, dangerous satisfaction, and unusual sacrifice.
Antoine Barraud gives audiences a film almost best viewed without prior knowledge of the plot. Enticing the audience and challenging their sense of morality, MADELEINE COLLINS hypnotizes with twists, turns, and deep complexity. Barraud and co-writer Héléna Klotz carefully weave an unmissable commentary about beauty, unrequited male infatuation, and childhood trauma into the narrative. The film overflows with nuance, and its final reveal changes everything. It is a wildly elaborate hurricane of grief.
Anna Camp plays Cora. She is unrecognizable in this role. Audiences usually recognize her perky personality and blonde hair. Raven-haired and emotionally battered, Cora brims with complexity. Camp allows herself to dive deep into grief and regret. It is an out-of-the-box performance for her, and she is magnificent. I’d love to see her in more dark roles. She can handle them.

After losing her mother, Sammy lashes out physically and emotionally. When her dad forces her to take a business class in summer school, she encounters a magician by happenstance. Under the guise of a final project, Sammy trades anger for magic.
Rhea Perlman


Catherine Keener is a mother mired in grief. As Claire, she looks for answers in Will, the only remaining connection to her son. The stages are all present in her weary tone of voice and mannerisms. The justifiable anger and emptiness become a shared experience through her. Charlie Heaton, as Will, sits on the fence of morality as a former addict wracked with survivor’s guilt. He carries the burden of past transgressions in his daily struggle to stay clean. Knowing that he’s hiding the truth from Claire eats at his soul. Heaton’s vulnerability will say shake you to your core. It’s award-worthy.



Jason Isaacs takes a logical approach as Jay. The arc of Kranz’s writing allows Isaacs to break this role wide open. It was akin to watching a teapot slowly come to a boil. Ann Dowd plays Linda. She is gentle, hesitant, and genuine in her grief and guilt. It feels like she’s trying too hard to appease and remain compassionate. Dowd’s best moments are when she’s in tune with Reed Birney. As Richard, Birney counters Dowd’s apologetic energy. He is defensive at every turn, to the point of unlikability. It’s his survival mechanism. Birney wears an air of toxic masculinity like a badge of honor. Martha Plimpton plays Gail with thoroughly justifiable guarded anger. She is seeking ownership and responsibility from Linda and Richard. Her pointed line of questioning makes her intentions clear as day. Plimpton owns every glance, sigh, and raw syllable uttered in Mass. It’s an entire emotional journey right before our eyes. It’s a performance that captivates. The chemistry between these four actors is something so rare. They understood the assignment, as they say.
The quiet, lingering moments in the first 20 minutes of the film are meticulously crafted to keep you stewing in anticipation of the inevitable storm to come. The entire film has a low registering hum and a palpable heaviness. As the plot is slowly revealed, politics seep into the conversation. The aftermath of trauma and grief are front and center. The discussion of mental health will echo in many households. The included social pleasantries on either end establish a grounded aspect, but it is that final unexpected 10 minutes that hit hardest. It’s a visceral catharsis. This is a master class in writing and performance. I would watch this on stage in a heartbeat. Mass is a portrait of four parents dealing with unthinkable loss. The most powerful aspect is the understanding that this conversation could be happening any day of the week nowadays. This is an emotional rollercoaster you cannot be prepared for. Mass brilliantly challenges the perspectives of cause and effect, blame, acceptance, forgiveness, life and death, and what parenthood means, deep in your soul. You will walk away changed.
Archive is a visual dream for fans of A.I. related storytelling. The production design team has taken pages from sci-fi films of old while also giving the audience a completely original aesthetic. It’s almost the birth of Westworld’s technology. You cannot miss the nods to Space Odessey, Alien, and Blade Runner.
There is a lot of intrigue in this script. Moral ambiguity is a huge part of the plot. Writer-director Gavin Rothery begs the question, “How far would you be willing to go for love?” There are clues dropped in the dialogue and recalls in scenes providing clever juxtaposition that will challenge the viewer. You cannot look away. Blink and you’ll miss something that might be more important than you realize. Brimming with emotional complexity, Archive challenges what life and death will continue to mean as technology upgrades in the future.
presents
Sometimes, when it’s 3 am and my unborn baby girl decided it’s an awesome time to do a dance instead of letting me sleep, I become, shall we say, a little grumpy. 3 weeks away from my second child, I’m freaking tired and sore and over being pregnant. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled for this peanut. My soon to be two children will be less than 16 months apart. Yup, two under two. I shudder to think about the amount of rest I will not be getting for the next 18, nay, 19 years. All that being said, I’ll have my perfect little salt and pepper set, all we need is the dog. There will be days I will want to flee, I’m sure… but I cannot imagine a day where the acts of my kids will compel me to start, let’s say, murdering people. Though, it’s early and who am I to judge. In Alice Lowe‘s directorial debut, PREVENGE, Ruth’s unborn child is telling her to murder a very specific list of people and perhaps for a good reason.
Written, directed and starring Lowe while she was actually 7 1/2 months pregnant, Prevenge is savage and wickedly demented. Sharp British humor heightens this in-your-face rampage. As much as you attempt to figure out the actual reason for the string of murders, you won’t until very late into the film and thus a sign of great writing. Lowe’s portrayal of Ruth is frighteningly grounded and wonderful. The cast is filled with familiar faces and the chemistry between Lowe and her (mostly) victims is perfection. The colors are vibrant and the jarring jump cuts interspersed are incredibly effective. The film is weird and gruesome and unlike anything you’ve seen before. It’s just plain cool.
Playing the convincing role of math professor and mom comes so naturally to Betsy Brandt, one might actually think this film was based on a true story. With facts and figures guiding her everyday life, she quickly learns they aren’t going to help figure out who she really married. The plot moves swiftly. There is no lag time between the opening scene and transitioning entering the mysteries. The pace and editing are such that you can feel the immediate push from the outside world on both Claire and her son to accept the fact that husband and father are not coming back.
It is the quintessential, “You think you know someone,” piece. It lends you to wonder who your significant other is when they’re not with you. Work friends, hobbies, the gym, lunches, seemingly mundane moments impact us each day so why would they not impact your partner in the same profound way? But, the torturous unanswered questions left in the wake of any ended relationship are the ones that stick with us. Claire In Motion is a quiet and yet profound look into reaching beyond yourself and into the lives of those around us.
They say you can never go home again. Maybe some of us should heed this advice depending on the skeletons in our closets. In Thomas Dekker‘s new film JACK GOES HOME, Rory Culkin finds himself playing the title character whose loss might be his greatest gain. Or maybe it’s the other way around.
I’ve see a horror film or two in my day, but I’ve never seen anything like Jack Goes Home. The story appears to be straight forward: Jack’s parents are in a car accident. His father dies and he goes home to take care of his mother, who has survived. When something goes bump in the night, he is compelled, by his father’s own words, to explore his childhood like never before. It doesn’t take too long before things get weird. Grief can make people act in funny ways, but this film takes it to a whole other level. Dekker’s script is off the hinges with scares both physically and emotionally. You’re never quite sure who is fooling whom.
With genre veteran Lin Shaye as Jack’s mother, you’re immediately thrown for a loop. Her presence is this insane mix of calming and unnerving. Each scene she appears in makes your skin crawl. Rory Culkin is more intense with each role he takes on. Following up on his fierce performance in 
Sieranevada takes a peek inside a grieving family and the reality of being stuck in a small space with the people you love and hate. Days after the death of the family patriarch and the recent Charlie Hebdo attacks, we find our cast gathered together to honor their beloved father. While they wait for the priest to arrive, we discover, little by little, the chaos, the meddling, the selfish, emotionally unstable ways that only your own family can throw at you all at once. Director Cristi Puiu, makes us, the audience, a fly on the wall for 3 solid hrs. This might pose a challenge for some viewers. The camera, mostly stationary, pans back and forth in place for extended periods of time, catching whispers, shouts, and much chain smoking predominantly from a hallway position. While the actors try desperately not to step on each other or wake the baby while they wait to eat once the elusive priest finally arrives. The dialogue is a beautiful mix of over the top arguments, manic bereavement, and laughter at internet conspiracy theories. It’s undeniably relatable. Only a big family dynamic can get your blood boiling and creative juices flowing for that long. 
Having graduated drama school only blocks from the NYFF, I can relate to The Rehearsal on a very personal level. Based on the novel Eleanor Catton‘s debut novel of the same name. Director/writer Alison Maclean‘s film version is slightly different but the themes remain the same. Teachers taking advantage of their students. It was lovely to see the authenticity of a performing arts school portrayed on the big screen. It’s been a while since both the discipline and seemingly ridiculous have been combined to give the viewer a slice of life in a conservatory style education. No one is nice to you. everyone is competition. The teachers are their to teach you with hard life lessons. But this story is also about the emotional responsibility of not only the teachers, but the students as they grow into mature adults. Our main plot revolves around the lives and work of the kids. More specifically, their final project. The dialogue is evenhanded in humor and drama. The performances are extremely solid.The final scene is cinematic perfection. 








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