“Jimpa,” the latest film from “Good Luck to You, Leo Grande” director Sophie Hyde, does this about as fully as one could ever hope to do. In a script Hyde wrote with her “52 Tuesdays” co-writer Matthew Cormack, we are taken fully into the world of Jim (aka Jimpa), played by John Lithgow, and his daughter Hannah, played by Olivia Colman, as they try to navigate their respective lives. Jim is a gay man who left Hannah and her mother when she was a child and she is now attempting to make a film about him while also raising her own child Frances (Aud Mason-Hyde), who is nonbinary.

As they all spend time together in the beauty of Amsterdam, the love they have for each other comes crashing into the lingering tension that Hannah has spent most of her adult life attempting to not just process, but speak openly about. 

The result is a film that’s not just incisive and compassionate, but fully attuned to the rhythms of this modern family. Conversations around queerness, polyamory and sexuality take place throughout in ways that embrace their complexity rather than shy away from them. In a world that seeks not just to repress such conversations but target those who have them, it is as refreshing as it is essential to see a film tackling them with such frankness.

As we hear them talk with radical openness about some things, Hyde pulls off a delicate balancing act where we come to see that there is also much that they are not yet fully able to talk through. It’s a film built around such conversations and our desire for connection that may be a little fragmented at times but cuts deep all the same.

Just as last year’s Sundance saw the excellent film “A Real Pain” capture the delicate relationship between two cousins, this one sees its own messy family trying to open up to each other and make sense of the pain they’re feeling before it’s all too late. It earns every emotion and then some, breaking the heart open with such breathtaking truthfulness that you get bowled over just before you land softly in its final frames. That it is also a film partly about its very construction only makes it all the more wonderfully rich to experience. 

Premiering Thursday at Sundance, “Jimpa” begins with Hannah and Frances talking about Jim. The former is doing so as part of a pitch about the film she wants to make about her father, and the latter is doing so for a class presentation. Both are earnestly passionate and clearly love him, though there is still a sense that we are hearing a possibly rosy portrait of the man. Critically, this earnestness must not be mistaken for complete honesty.

Instead, as Hyde gently teases out, we realize that Hannah in particular is invested in not expressing anger or even conflict about her father. This results in a humorous opening conversation about how all dramas must contain some element of conflict, but “Jimpa” doesn’t just use this for jokes. It is also flagging up to us that the film we are watching is about someone attempting to reckon with their past and the challenges of making art that can do full justice to this. That it does so within some of the familiar narrative beats of the family dramedy is part of its potency. Not only does Hyde remain aware of how the overly saccharine version of this film could go, she holds it up to the light in order to see all the ways the narratives we fall back on may actually be hiding critical parts of the lives we lead. 

You see, Jim is a flawed man as well as a caring one. He fought for the civil rights of others, speaking out after being diagnosed with AIDS even as the world was fighting him at every turn. And he has tried to continue doing so even in his older age. He is also egotistical, selfish and occasionally cruel, especially when he doesn’t always listen to others.

Lithgow, all tattooed up and often bearing his body in addition to his soul, is terrific at capturing all the seemingly contradictory yet completely authentic layers of the man. He is capable of turning a scene on its head with such withering charm and conviction that you go along with it until you realize just how hurtful he can be to the others around him. Alongside Colman, whose eyes contain entire worlds of tumultuous emotion in these scenes, we feel how it is the family has settled into this comfortable uncomfortableness. 

However, if there is a breakout star in the film, it is Aud Mason-Hyde. That they are the child of director Hyde only makes it all the more engaging as we can feel an extra sense of natural lived-in emotion in the way the scenes unfold. Even alongside heavy-hitters like Lithgow and Colman, it is remarkable how effortlessly Mason-Hyde holds their own. In many ways, their scenes are what bring everything out that the adults are looking away from. Even when there are some conversations amongst the older generation that can feel a little clunky in how they underline what they are saying, it is Mason-Hyde who brings us into the more complicated gray areas that are necessary to understanding what “Jimpa” is attempting to grapple with. For all the joy that Frances discovers in the city and the desire they have to move away from home in order to find community, we see in their eyes how life is not always so simple. When tragedy does inevitably arise, it makes the quiet and often unspoken details of their performance all the more impactful.  

As we see in the hands of cinematographer Matthew Chuang, who previously shot the gorgeous “You Won’t Be Alone,” the past and present are always crashing together. It is in these striking juxtapositions that the lives of all the characters come into greater focus. There is pain in how they are intercut into the present, but there is also a captivating quality to them that only cinema can provide. At times, it even recalls the shattering way director Barry Jenkins captured the various characters in his astounding adaptation “If Beale Street Could Talk.”

With that being said, there is still much that Hyde uncovers that she can call her own in her directing. The way moments will linger and intersect takes the breath away just as they never feel like they are overdone. It’s all one would hope a film like this to be: honest, bittersweet and true. In the end, whether Hannah the character is able to make her film, Hyde has done so herself in beautiful fashion.

The post ‘Jimpa’ Review: Olivia Colman and John Lithgow Soar in Beautiful, Bittersweet Drama appeared first on TheWrap.

“My goodness, that chair is gorgeous,” we hear via playful, often poetic, narration by Melanie Griffith before we cut to a sad little meal being shared by Camille, played by a fantastic and committed Juliette Lewis, plus her two friends. The voiceover shifts into being biting as the camera notably pulls away. Gone is Griffith’s effusive affection and in its place is a more oddly wistful sadness. 

In terms of all the memorable ways films have opened, this doesn’t sound like it would be that meaningful of a way to do so, but my goodness is it. It’s gleefully silly without overselling itself while laying the seeds for a humorous yet heartfelt juxtaposition between the life being led by Camille and the chair at the furniture showroom. If this sounds ridiculous, it’s just the wondrous beginning to the journey Kramer takes us on — one where Camille, after attempting to buy the chair, does the next best thing: become the furniture herself. Rather than serve as a shallowly classical body swap story that provides a moral lesson about her growing to appreciate the life she had, the aftermath of this decision is more thematically complicated and engaging. It’s also sincere, tapping into anxieties about being not just liked or even loved, but truly seen. 

You see, rather than despise her confinement, Camille’s lonely existence becomes infinitely better. The people around her love her far more when she is nothing but a chair. 

Premiering Thursday at Sundance, this is the first film Kramer has shown at the festival and it also feels like the one she’s spent her whole career building up to. Rather than compromise her ideas that she’s explored with spirited, if sometimes a little scattered, verve in past works, she deepens the emotions she’s tapping into just as she dives further and further into absurdity. Merging a somewhat similar visual style to “Please Baby Please” with the thorny introspective elements of the smaller-scale “Pity Me,” it’s not just her funniest film yet, but also her best. 

Set in only a handful of locations, all are shot with maximum creativity and an eye for whimsical compositions by cinematographer Patrick Meade Jones, who has worked on all of Kramer’s previous narrative features. As it traces the path Camille takes in her newfound existence as a chair, she discovers something oddly liberating in the change that is also not to last.

Initially, she is bought as a gift for Olivier, played by a magnificent Mamoudou Athie, who is living a lonely life of his own but also becomes infatuated with her in chair form. He takes her to a dinner party and must fight off the other attendees from getting their hands on her. The expressions that Athie makes in this scene and his repeated outbursts of “No!” are a riot, though the actor never descends into relying on one-note gags.

Instead, he takes part in a variety of eerie dance numbers, both with others that seem to come from his subconscious and by himself with Camille/the chair being rapidly cut between, as well as an uproarious sequence surrounding an awkward photo shoot being done for a magazine. It’s strange in an intentionally stilted fashion. Critically, the cast approaches their parts with the seriousness necessary to pull the cocktail of silliness and sincerity off. It will alienate some, but that’s also what makes it work. 

At the center of this is Lewis, whose every rhythmic line delivery, desperate expression, and eventual scream is operating on the precise wavelength that the film needs. It’s all ludicrous in snapshots, but the full picture that lurks underneath is one of discontentment. The film lays this out in both the narration that interjects throughout and the commitment that Lewis brings to the part. This includes her spending a significant portion of the film playing the chair as Camille, as the swap involves the furniture taking over her body, meaning she doesn’t move or speak. If this sounds like it’d distance you from her character, the opposite that ends up happening. Even as there is one darker scene in the middle that sends the film teetering a bit, it’s everything that surrounds it which proves to be unexpectedly yet richly saddening and silly to sort through. 

While she has never been one to shy away from what are often impenetrable narratives about troubled people struggling to connect, “By Design” is the one that brings it all together in the most potent package. The film’s final fleeting lines underline this perfectly, making it land with an unexpected gut punch as you get one last look at Camille, back alone all over again.

We feel all the pieces Kramer has been designing for us falling into place one last dreamlike and despairing time, echoing where we began in a lonely showroom with the spotlights coming down. All you need do is pull up a chair and take it all in.    

The post ‘By Design’ Review: Juliette Lewis and Mamoudou Athie Are a Joy in This Bold Body Swap Comedy appeared first on TheWrap.

Nearly all of her characters are shatteringly isolated, divided even in their faltering attempts at connection. But they are bound, at minimum, through a mystical deer created by a celebrated Chinese artist before he died. The deer sits at the center of a giant painting in a seedy Chongqing club, where strangers escape into virtual reality alone and together.

The club’s most popular VR world — called Luz, which means both “Light” and “Separation” — also involves the deer, who has to evade participants hunting it. Among the players is young camgirl Fa (En Xi Deng), whose livestreams are persistently interrupted by Wei (Xiao Dong Guo), a middle-aged man claiming to be her lost father. Since she won’t agree to meet him in real life, he has to learn how to seek her out in the game.

Meanwhile, the late artist’s lonely daughter, Ren (Sandrine Pinna), is in Hong Kong, until she gets a call that her former stepmother — her father’s equally creative ex-wife, Sabine (Isabelle Huppert) — is ailing. Somewhat reluctantly, she travels to France to help Sabine, only to be shocked when the patient wants no aid at all. Sabine’s plan, in fact, is to embrace life as wholeheartedly as she can, for as long as possible. Stubbornly refusing any attempts to curtail her active existence, she instead pulls Ren into the tactile delights of a Parisian artist: galleries and dances and gardens, music and food and adventures.

Lau (“Bends”) and her talented cinematographer, Benjamin Echazarreta (“A Fantastic Woman”), treat the screen like a canvas themselves, building layer upon layer to evoke multiple mediums. An electro-eerie score is the perfect match for Chongqing’s dark, neon-lit streets, which call to mind “Blade Runner” in their futuristic alienation.

But since “Luz” is, more than anything, a study in contrasts, Sabine’s Paris is as verdant and lush as Chongqing is stark and disaffected. The people we meet in her world are older and more engaged with their senses: individuals converse rather than text; pulsing techno gives way to sentimental French pop; the palate shifts from shades of black to vibrant color. As actors, Huppert and Pinna are both luminous. But while Sabine shines as if lit from within, Ren is dimmer, visibly lacking vitality even as her dynamic stepmother is the one living with a potentially fatal aneurism.

Because Lau is so intent on drawing distinctions between their ways of life, her script can occasionally feel black-and-white in its themes, too. And her artistic perspectives are idiosyncratic enough that we do notice when she lapses into clichéd terrain. Most of the time, though, she keeps us suspended in a state of awed anticipation. Even as her intentions are to nudge us back into real life, the images flickering on screen continue to hold us rapt.

The post ‘Luz’ Review: Flora Lau Conjures a Gorgeous Drama of Technology and Isolation appeared first on TheWrap.

As a PBS American Masters portrait designed to celebrate Matlin’s accomplishments, “Not Alone Anymore” can’t really be called a traditional documentary. Matlin chose first-time director Shoshannah Stern herself (they worked together on the Sundance Now series “This Close”), and the connection between them is evident. Though this obviously precludes a lack of neutral distance, it also opens up space for Matlin to share her story with unguarded intimacy.

And what a story it turns out to be. Matlin lost her hearing as a toddler — no one knew exactly why — and her parents took the traditional approach at the time: encouraging her to live, as much as possible, as though she hadn’t.

As a result, she had one foot in two worlds but her full self in neither. She felt left out in her family, and lacked the community that other kids found in Deaf spaces. There was one exception, though, and that was in the acting program at the International Center on Deafness and the Arts. Eventually, she was cast in Randa Haines’ film “Children of a Lesser God,” about a Deaf woman and the hearing teacher (William Hurt) who pushes her to speak.

Matlin opens up in “Not Alone Anymore” (as she did in her 2009 memoir, “I’ll Scream Later”) about her on- and off-screen relationships with her late co-star, Hurt. She was 19 and he was 35, and their two-year affair was marked by his repeated emotional and physical abuse. She was both the first Deaf performer to win an Oscar and the youngest woman to win Best Actress. But when we rewatch her historic night now, annotated by her own memories, it feels palpably different than it did at the time. Today, we notice her discomfort when she hesitantly takes the trophy from Hurt, and can see how young she really is as the media immediately drops public responsibility for the Deaf community onto her slim shoulders.

Many of Matlin’s recollections take place as she sits comfortably on her couch with Stern, who is also Deaf, the two of them signing in screen-captioned American Sign Language without an interpreter. Their non-mediated ASL is so seamlessly presented that it becomes one of several elements to drive home how essential representation really is. In both contemporary interviews and past clips, we see people talking about the doors Matlin opened for them as an actor and celebrity, an award winner and an outspoken advocate of Deaf rights. (There was no closed captioning on most movies or TV shows before her public push.)

Matlin is a thoughtful, funny and intense presence, and therefore a fantastic interview. But Stern also makes excellent use of her co-workers, family and friends — including Aaron Sorkin, an inspired choice to discuss the subtleties of language; her “CODA” co-star Troy Kotsur, who looked to Matlin when he became the second Deaf actor to earn an Oscar; and longtime friend Henry Winkler, whose unshakable support from her earliest years reinforces his status as a Hollywood hero.

Stern, who is seen crying on camera more than once, makes no attempt to achieve objectivity, nor does a project like this require it. This is, in fact, the sort of celebratory personal retrospective that is often created for people much older than Matlin (who is 59, and radiates with ageless energy). Much of the structure is unsurprising; interspersed with her stories and old media clips are a lot of admirers, who enthusiastically share the many ways in which she changed the world. But their case is strong, and the stories worth telling. It’s a testament to both Stern and her subject that we leave already anticipating the chapters still to come.

The post ‘Marlee Matlin: Not Alone Anymore’ Review: An Unguarded Portrait of a Groundbreaking Talent appeared first on TheWrap.

For the first time, TheWrap is also honored to serve as an Official Media Sponsor of the 2025 Sundance Film Festival, underscoring its ongoing commitment to championing independent film and storytelling. 

The studio will feature exclusive interviews and photo sessions with the cast and filmmakers behind the most highly anticipated premieres from Sundance, cementing TheWrap’s place as a trusted voice in entertainment journalism. Among the top talent confirmed to participate are Bowen Yang, Carey Mulligan, Alison Brie, Questlove and Dylan O’Brien.

“Independent film has always been at the heart of TheWrap’s mission,” said Sharon Waxman, CEO & Editor-in-Chief of TheWrap. “Our Sundance Studio provides a platform to amplify the voices of the creators who are shaping the future of film.”

On Friday, Jan. 24, TheWrap will host a fireside chat titled “Reimagining Hollywood: A New Lens on Disability Inclusion,” presented by Easterseals Disability Services. Held at TheWrap’s Sundance Studio, this conversation will feature Nancy Weintraub, Chief Advancement Officer at Easterseals, and Nic Novicki, founder of the Disability Film Challenge, with Waxman moderating. Together, they will discuss actionable strategies to champion disability representation and share key findings from their recent study of the same name.

Continuing its commitment to advancing important industry conversations, TheWrap will also host an invite-only panel discussion on Sunday, Jan. 26, titled “The Boldness That Defines Independent Film,” presented by Egon Zehnder. Moderated by Waxman, the panel will include media leader Keri Putnam and filmmaker Bao Nguyen. Putnam is former CEO of Sundance Institute and has held senior leadership positions at HBO and Miramax and currently serves on several industry and nonprofit boards, as an independent director at AMC Entertainment, board member at PICTURESTART, advisory board member at TOPIC, board chair at the public interest tech nonprofit New_ Public and board member at Doc Society. Nguyen is a documentary film director, cinematographer and producer who is best known for his work on the films like “Julian,” “Be Water,” “Live From New York!” and “The Greatest Night in Pop.” Nguyen has his latest film, “The Stringer,” premiering at Sundance.

Additional talent attending the studio include Rose Byrne, Chloë Sevigny, Dave Franco, Lili Reinhart, Callum Turner, Jesse Williams, Logan Lerman, Rachel Sennott, Molly Gordon, Finn Wolfhard, Alia Shawkat, Geraldine Viswanathan, Himesh Patel, Sarah Goldberg, Alex Wolff, Lucas Hedges, Tig Notaro, Rebecca Hall, Archie Madekwe, Kelly Marie Tran, Nyle DiMarco, Juliette Lewis, Mamoudou Athie, Cooper Raiff, Eva Victor, Nyle DiMarco and many more.

For live updates, exclusive content, and coverage of the 2025 Sundance Film Festival, follow TheWrap on X, Instagram and Facebook and visit TheWrap.com.

The post Bowen Yang, Carey Mulligan, Alison Brie, Questlove, Dylan O’Brien Join TheWrap’s 2025 Sundance Film Festival Studio appeared first on TheWrap.

“Exhibiting Forgiveness” is an impressive first feature, boldly conceived and emotionally fraught, with masterful performances and powerful works of art woven into the narrative. It’s a film that confronts the multigenerational impact of addiction and abuse, and the way art can be personally transformative and therapeutic, even though the artist may struggle to communicate directly with those around them. If I’m “wrong” about that, I’m sorry, but that’s still a powerful takeaway.

Rodin lives in a big house with his wife, Aisha (Andra Day, “The United States vs. Billie Holiday) and their son, Jermaine (Daniel Berrier). It’s been a rough time for Tarrell, waking up in the middle of the night in mid-panic attack, trying to work out his feelings in the studio he shares with Aisha, a talented singer-songwriter. Despite their different disciplines they have a way to collaborate: Aisha sings a new song and Tarrell suggests adding the color yellow, which Aisha — and cinematographer Lachlan Milne (“Minari”) — divinely provides.

Tarrell has been trying to get his mother, Joyce (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor), to move out of her old house and in with his family, but when they arrive she hasn’t packed. She’s also brought Tarrell’s estranged father, La’Ron (John Earl Jelks, “New Amsterdam”) back into the Tarrell’s life against his will. Tarrell and his mother were both abused by La’Ron, a former crack addict. Tarrell had every intention of introducing his father to Aisha for the first time at La’Ron’s funeral.

The message that “Exhibiting Forgiveness” iterates, over and over again, is that if you can’t forgive someone else you cannot be forgiven. And, frankly, Tarrell can be forgiven for rejecting that. La’Ron may be eager to reconnect, and even willing to explain how he became the disappointment he is, but he never explicitly asks for forgiveness. It’s only expected that Tarrell provide it, despite all the suffering La’Ron has caused. Joyce seems to have forgiven him, many times over, after many shocking betrayals. She has a light in her than Tarrell cannot understand, let alone find in himself.

And what, exactly, does Tarrell need to be forgiven for anyway? To hear Titus Kaphar’s film tell it, his understandable failure to forgive is a character flaw in itself. Or, at least, it’s an infected wound that desperately needs lancing. Holland dives head first into a role of such unusual depth and complexity it’s almost hard to process “Exhibiting Forgiveness” on a performance level. Holland, Jelks, and Ellis-Taylor are operating on astounding levels, in material that challenges and rewards, even if it cannot possibly satisfy.

Kaphar’s paintings aren’t a backdrop, and even when they are, they’re literally pushed into frame by the ghost of Tarrell’s past. In lieu of some perhaps much-needed therapy, Tarrell communicates with and through his artwork. Perhaps that’s why he’s so offended when people don’t “get” it, critics or buyers alike. He’s putting everything into those paintings. To misunderstand his work is to deny his feelings, his thoughts, his reality. He can’t even feel nostalgia; when he visits a public swimming pool from his childhood, now empty and grown over, all he sees are the chips of paint that adorn it.

“Exhibiting Forgiveness” defies certain structural conventions, interrupting narrative flows for extended dramatic moments, just like the unexpected re-introduction of La’Ron has disrupted a life Tarrell’s spent trying to move forward. Looking back is hard, it’s disruptive, it takes time. In those scenes Ellis-Taylor and Jelks provide majestic parallels to Holland’s haunted, even frightened performance. Tarrell cannot fathom coming to terms with the past they share. It disturbs him to even consider it.

Kaphar brings something special, narratively raw, but thematically refined to his first feature. It’s painful and it doesn’t necessarily heal, but it’s a full experience, exceptional in its craft, with performances that cannot be dismissed or be forgotten.

“Exhibiting Forgiveness” opens in theaters on Oct. 18.

The post ‘Exhibiting Forgiveness’ Review: André Holland Brings Passion to This Raw Family Drama appeared first on TheWrap.

On a Jan. 22 inclusivity panel at the festival, titled “Championing Change: The Power of Inclusive Filmmaking,” presented by TheWrap, UCLA School of Theater, Film and Television and NFP, Sealey said that she hopes audiences learn from her drama’s hero, Melody (Phoebe-Rae Taylor), that “everybody communicates in a different way.”

The filmmaker, who’s previously known for 2021’s “No Man of God” and here worked with screenwriter Daniel Stiepleman to adapt Sharon M. Draper’s 2010 novel of the same name, admitted that there “was a big learning curve for me” to get it right. 

“I remember early on in my research phase, the Think Tank for Inclusion and Equity, they did do a lot of asking people with disabilities, like, what do you want to see more?” she recalled, “What largely came out of that was people with disabilities wanted to see movies that centered on them as human beings and not just on their disability.” 

Sealey added that those consultants also emphasized a desire to see stories that “focused on them not only as human beings, but also wasn’t always about pitying them, and also wasn’t always about them only being only worthy or only valuable because they were superhuman.”

In the case of Melody, she’s a sixth grader who “is very smart,” but Sealey was conscious of adapting the novel in a way that framed her as being “special” for more than just “because she’s a genius.”

“She’s a human being. She’s just like anybody else – she has thoughts, feelings, fears. And so that was what my approach with the film was like. This is like any other tween girl, she just happens to be nonverbal. She happens to use a wheelchair,” Sealey said. “Her having cerebral palsy is a part of how she moves through the world. Her being nonverbal is a part of the way she moves through the world, but it’s not everything about her.”

In telling Melody’s story – which costars Rosemarie DeWitt, Luke Kirby, Judith Light and Michael Chernus – Sealey said that inclusivity was practiced in front of and behind the camera. 

“The inclusivity part was really about not only including people with disabilities in the cast, in the crew, in the creative process, consultants, writers, all of that,” she said. “But, also, just about how we look at people with disabilities, trying not to treat them as objects, trying not to treat them just as their disability, but treating them as a human being.”

“It’s about her finding her voice, but it’s also more importantly about the rest of us learning how to listen and understanding that everybody communicates in a different way,” she said. “Some of us use our voice, some of use our hands, some of us use a computer – we all communicate differently.”

Sealey was joined on the Monday morning panel by “Frida” documentarian Carla Gutierrez, Funny Or Die founder Henry Muñoz and Brown Girls Doc Mafia founder Iyabo Boyd, all of whom spoke to the importance of inclusivity in their own work, their reservations about the state of DEI initiatives in Hollywood today and more. 

Watch the full panel — as moderated by The Curvy Critic, Carla Renata — in the video above.

Check out all our Sundance coverage here

The post ‘Out of My Mind’ Director Says Learning ‘Everybody Communicates in a Different Way’ Was Key to Making Her Disability Drama | Video appeared first on TheWrap.

The documentary was in a competitive bidding situation as three companies puts bids in.

The documentary garnered the Audience Award in the Documentary Competition category and was voted the overall Festival Favorite. The production of “Daughters” spanned eight years before its debut at Sundance.

“Daughters” co-director Dawn Neely Patton serves as the CEO of Girls For A Change, an organization dedicated to creating opportunities for young Black women. Working alongside Patton is co-director Nicole Rae, an acclaimed director known for music videos, commercials and films commissioned by the United Nations and Gates Foundation.

Rae has received nominations at the prestigious Cannes Young Lions awards. “Daughters” marks the first feature-length documentary for both Patton and Rae.

The documentary was produced by Lisa Mazzotta, Natalie Rae, Justin Benoliel, Mindy Goldberg, Sam Bisbee, Kathryn Everett, Laura Choi Raycroft, James Cunningham. Paul Rachman served as co-producer.

The execuive producers are Kerry Washington, Pilar Savone, Angela Patton, Joel Edgerton, Jessica Seinfeld, Hallee Adelman, Lydia Kives, J.M. Harper, Lance Acord, Jackie Kelman Bisbee, Wendy Neu, Dom Thomas, Morgan Clement, Jessica Taneja, Bryn Mooser, Shane Riley, Harland Weiss, Donovan M. Boden, Isil Gilderdale, Emily Harris

The deal was brokered by CAA and Submarine  on behalf of the filmmakers.

Variety first reported the news of Netflix’s acquisition of “Daughers.”

The post Netflix Acquires ‘Daughters’ Out of Sundance appeared first on TheWrap.

The status of film festivals has long been associated with helping filmmakers and audiences come together to experience and learn about new projects, as well as providing independent films with a boost of clout in their efforts to get sold to big-name studios. Their purpose, and how they’ve served the lifecycle of projects being produced, was one of the questions thrown to Ankner during his panel, “Producers’ Perspectives: Navigating Film Festivals in 2024,” which was presented by TheWrap, UCLA School of Theater, Film & Television and NFP.

Joining Ankner was Jason Forest, executive producer and managing director at Bully Pictures; Jess Daveney, founder and president of Multitude Films; Luke Kelly-Clyne, co-head of HartBeat Independent at Hartbeat and Stacey Reiss, executive producer for documentary narrative films. The panel was moderated by Brian Kite, dean of UCLA’s School of Theater, Film and Television.

“I think film festivals are becoming more important every year,” said Ankner, whose film and TV resume consists largely of projects centered on communities of color and the LGBTQIA+ community. “With the proliferation of content and how we see ourselves engaging in long-form or short-form, film festivals are a catalyst of community advocacy and awareness. For me, having brought films here for years, a lot of those films were films that the studios weren’t interested in, whether it was a topic, whether it was the filmmaker, whether it was a filmmaker’s point of view, and we all know how layered that may be.”

He continued: “I’ve worked on the film sale for Ryan Cooler’s ‘Fruitvale Station’ and Boots Riley’s ‘Sorry to Bother You,’ or ‘Call Me By Your Name.’ These are not movies the studios said they would have made, but they did. Bringing these films to festivals allowed us to generate an independent funding market for these things, and when people can make money off of them and bring them to festivals, typically, those people would put money back into the other films. That was [a] really important part of the process.”

This year, Ankner is helping bring the film “Ponyboi” to the forefront. The film tells story of a young intersex sex worker named Ponyboi (River Gallo), who, over the course of Valentine’s Day in New Jersey, is on the run from the mob after a drug deal gone wrong and he’s forced him to confront his past. The film, which was written by Gallo, also brings along actors Moisés Acevedo, Aphrodite Armstrong, Indya Moore, Victoria Pedretti, Dylan O’Brien and Murray Bartlett. It was directed by Esteban Arango.

Ankner pointed out that while the movie includes Hollywood acting notables, “Ponyboi” — which features the first intersex lead in a film — is very much an independent film.

“You see all of those actors and you think, ‘That’s a studio film.’ It’s not, because for some reason the topic or the point of view didn’t suit that, so we bring it to a film festival for this community to validate its place and culture,” Ankner explained. “I see independent films and film festivals being the only voice to push culture… The things you’re seeing the studios make now are because those things were ventured for the independent space, both in films and in docs.”

Laying out the background for which diverse stories have been able to thrive, Kite questioned whether Ankner would prefer the independent route or studio-backing for his projects. Ideally, Ankner would love for diverse stories to receive more studio support, but was transparent about the reality of that happening.

“I would love for more ‘Ponybois,’ more ‘Sorry to Bother Yous’, more ‘Call Me By Your Names,’ more ‘Dear White Peoples’, more ‘Honey Boys,’ all these films that I’ve worked with over the years, being made by studios. But, there is a process of a studio where they’re looking to deliver a certain product,” Ankner said.

He also highlighted the creative freedoms filmmakers have with going the independent route. “There’s a lot of great execs at the studios, as well as you can find them. But, I think more so for us speaking in a general manner, independence creates a catalyst for conversation that isn’t necessarily taking place. It’s always the outside conversation. It’s always the thing that you’re probably in the audience thinking about right now that ends up here two years later. I think those things are evident.”

Watch the full panel in the video above.

“Ponyboi” is a sales title at Sundance.

Check out all our Sundance coverage here

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“Look Into My Eyes,” the latest documentary from Lana Wilson, which premiered at Sundance, decides to shift the focus from the work mediums do to the actual mediums themselves. The effect is a thoughtful, moving portrait of a community of people who want to do their best with the gifts they’ve received.

Following a slew of mediums of all ages, backgrounds and expertise, “Look Into My Eyes” blends traditional interviews with footage from real consultations the mediums have with their clients. It’s an effective brew that draws the line between the work the subjects of the documentary do and their rich inner and personal lives. Early on, we see a montage of lost people seeking answers about everything: there is the eighteen-year-old who feels uncertain about their future, the woman who wants to know if her rebellious dog truly loves her, and the young woman who wants to know about her birth parents.

We see these people at their most vulnerable, opening themselves up to the possibilities promised by the mediums in the film. It’s a powerful starting point that gets at the themes of the documentary directly. Soon enough, we’ll see and hear the mediums behind the sessions opening up as well.

The word psychic might conjure up images of crystal balls, seance rooms and haunted houses, but the reality is much more grounded and tender. We spend time with the psychics in their apartments all over New York and get to learn about how they came into their gifts and profession. They all have different stories, but what comes through is a desire to connect.

One psychic puts it succinctly: “I want to retreat from the world, but I want to connect to it, too.” Like everyone else who has a job they have interests outside of their metaphysical gifts. From acting, to performing at open mic nights in the city, to watching their favorite movies at home, “Look Into My Eyes” pulls back the curtain of what being a psychic means in the popular imagination and provides a real counterpoint to that image.

The film is as much a documentary about the people behind the clairvoyant profession as it is about the job itself. Like any other job, being a medium comes with complications, imposter syndrome and self-doubt. When one psychic is asked if he ever doubts whether what he does is real or not, his response is frank: “Oh, all the time, every day.” Another psychic must balance personal connections with psychic ones when a former classmate comes in for a reading about one of their former friends who took their own life. It’s a unique set of circumstances that highlights how psychic work can be both similar and deeply different than any normal job.

Wilson’s techniques here, blending the traditional methods of the documentary (the sit-down interview, the voice-over narration from a subject) and following her subjects as they do their jobs and live their day-to-day jobs are remarkable. By allowing her subjects to guide her through their unique world, we’re given an intimate, disarming look into a very specific world. It’s an approach that is reminiscent of Les Blank, the documentarian behind “Chulas Fronteras” and “Garlic is as Good as Ten Mothers,” who let his subjects lead the way.

It’s an almost anthropological approach, but it never feels cold or distant. The sound design is largely silent, focusing on the moments we’re watching on-screen. The decision to not include a soundtrack reads as an intentional and grounded choice: we’re supposed to be here in this moment with the psychics. Overall, it’s clear the film wants us to sit with the subjects beyond their chosen profession or alleged gifts, a rare and disarming choice that strengthens the film.

Ultimately, “Look Into My Eyes” is a unique, intimate approach to subject material that thinks beyond the obvious. Instead of grappling with the biggest, clunkiest question about clairvoyance (“Is it real?”), Wilson looks at the people behind the work. The end result is a compelling, sometimes deeply moving portrait of professionals who are much more than their metaphysical gifts.

By following this group of mediums Wilson doesn’t solve the mysteries of the universe, but she does do something remarkable: unveiling the very human desires and drives that motivate us to reach out for something bigger than ourselves.

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