Sara Bareilles: Good Grief
Josh Alexander‘s beautifully raw peek into the world of musician Sara Bareilles. In March 2025, Sara and her band gather in Woodstock, NY, to record for six days. The result is a stunning exploration of unfiltered honesty and all the feels.
Bareilles’s artistic journey from folk-pop star to Tony-nominated writer makes all the sense in the world if you’ve been a fan since forever. Waitress absolutely deserved all the Tonys. Sorry, not sorry, to another musical bestie, Lin. Sara has this uncanny ability to cut your soul to ribbons with her interpretation of a song you thought you knew well. She’s fantastic at a musical gotcha when covering a song she didn’t write. The doc feels like that because it’s all new to us.
Confessional lyrics that make you cry (that’s a warning for around the 20-minute mark, but not the last), paired with gorgeously cut close-ups in the church studio, sweep you away. It feels like a live concert just for you. Alexandra delivers the organic revelations of creation. Read More →
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 
The entire cast is breathtaking. Our leading lady, Vicky Krieps, gives a mesmerizing performance as a woman unraveling. Each beat is carefully curated, mired in sadness and pure love. Krieps’ unadulterated vulnerability demands your attention. It is an award-worthy turn. Hold Me Tight is an extraordinary study of grief and moving forward. You cannot walk away from this film unchanged.
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.
This unexpected indie takes your heart by surprise within minutes. It’s part folklore, part road movie, and all charm. When four girls are called together to hear the reading of the will of their former headmistress, sparks fly and memories burn with truth and misunderstanding. I was not expecting this story to turn into a road movie at all, although with a character that is a suitcase with a personality (you’ll just have to watch to understand what I mean) I guess I should have predicted it in hindsight. While a small piece of the plot does revolve around a fiancé, the dialogue definitely passes The Bechdel Test with flying colors. 
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 
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