As the 2016 Sundance Film Festival comes to a close and the 50,000 people from the press, industry, and general public head back home, it’s time to reflect on the films from this year’s lineup. Talk to anyone on the streets and they’ll tell you there were two major buzz titles.

The first one received the bad kind of buzz after numerous Twitter reports claiming there were a flood walkouts for the Daniel’s “farting corpse movie” Swiss Amry Man. While the film will certainly divide audiences (it made my list of top films), the screening I went to actually probably had fewer walkouts then you usually see. But easily the most hyped up movie at Sundance this year was Nate Parker’s The Birth of a Nation. The film went on to win both the grand jury prize and audience award, a trend started 3 years ago with Fruitvale Station, then Whiplash, and then last year’s Me and Earl and the Dying Girl. And before The Birth of a Nation dominated the talk of the town, Manchester By the Sea starring Casey Affleck, Michelle Williams, and Kyle Chandler was the hot ticket.

Overall, I’d say it was a solid lineup with the number of good films outweighing the bad, however, those looking for a masterpiece probably didn’t find one. For all of our reactions to what we saw at Sundance, check out our entire Sundance 2016 coverage.

Way Too Indie’s 10 Best Sundance 2016 Films

#10. Swiss Army Man

Synopsis: Hank, a hopeless man stranded in the wild, discovers a mysterious dead body. Together the two embark on an epic journey to get home. As Hank realizes the body is the key to his survival, this once suicidal man is forced to convince a dead body that life is worth living.

#9. Joshy

Synopsis: Josh treats what would have been his bachelor party as an opportunity to reconnect with his friends.
Read Our Joshy Review

#8. Little Men

Synopsis: When 13-year-old Jake’s grandfather dies, his family moves back into their old Brooklyn home. There, Jake befriends Tony, whose single Chilean mother runs the shop downstairs. As their friendship deepens, however, their families are driven apart by a battle over rent, and the boys respond with a vow of silence.

#7. The Birth of a Nation

Synopsis: Set against the antebellum South, this story follows Nat Turner, a literate slave and preacher whose financially strained owner, Samuel Turner, accepts an offer to use Nat’s preaching to subdue unruly slaves. After witnessing countless atrocities against fellow slaves, Nat devises a plan to lead his people to freedom.
Read Our The Birth of a Nation Review

#6. The Eagle Huntress

Synopsis: Step aside, Daenerys and Katniss—Aisholpan is a real-life role model on an epic journey in a faraway world. Follow this 13-year-old nomadic Mongolian girl as she battles to become the first female to hunt with a golden eagle in 2,000 years of maledominated history.
Read Our The Eagle Huntress Review

#5. The Intervention

Synopsis: A weekend getaway for four couples takes a sharp turn when one of the couples discovers the entire trip was orchestrated to host an intervention on their marriage.
Read Our The Intervention Review

#4. Green Room

Synopsis: This wickedly fun horror-thriller tells a story about the owner of a neo-Nazi club who squares off against an unsuspecting but resilient young punk band after they witness a horrific act of violence.
Read Our Green Room Review

#3. Operation Avalanche

Synopsis: In 1967, four undercover CIA agents were sent to NASA posing as a documentary film crew. What they discovered led to one of the biggest conspiracies in American history.
Read Our Operation Avalanche Review

#2. Maggie’s Plan

Synopsis: A young woman’s determination to have a child catapults her into a nervy love triangle with a heart-throb academic and his eccentric critical-theorist wife.
Read Our Maggie’s Plan Review

#1. Manchester by the Sea

Synopsis: After his older brother passes away, Lee Chandler is forced to return home to care for his 16-year-old nephew. There he is compelled to deal with a tragic past that separated him from his family and the community where he was born and raised.
Read Our Manchester by the Sea Review

The timing of The Eagle Huntress is perfect when you consider how much white males dominate the movies (the Academy is finally taking action to correct this). The star of this indie documentary is neither white nor male. Instead, The Eagle Huntress features a determined 13-year-old Mongolian girl named Aishoplan, who hopes to become the first ever female Eagle Hunter in the practice’s 2,000 years of existence. Capturing breathtaking views of snowy Mongolian landscapes, the documentary offers a bird’s eye view into the life of a true heroine.

Motivated to prove naysayers who claim women are “too weak” and “don’t belong in eagle hunting”, Aishoplan trains in the ancient art of eagle hunting with her father. Her first task is to capture her own eagle. This white-knuckle feat requires scaling steep cliffs to reach the eagle’s nest, all while the adult eagle soars overhead. Only a step away from death, watching her accomplish this put me on the edge of my seat. After rigorous training, Aishoplan sets her sights on competing in the annual Golden Eagle Festival, something no female has ever done before.

The Eagle Huntress is the rare documentary that makes you interested in a subject you never thought you’d care about. The documentary sends an inspirational message of never giving up for what you believe in, along with not being afraid to change the status quo. With the help of big name executive producers (Morgan Spurlock and Daisy Ridley) backing The Eagle Huntress, hopefully this beautifully shot and uplifting documentary will reach the audience it deserves.

Rating:
8/10

This first full-length feature from director Elizabeth Wood features an unapologetic portrayal of an anything-goes college girl looking for an escape. It’s not exactly clear what she’s trying to escaping from, perhaps just parental constraints, but the privileged white girl ends up getting an up-close look at the gritty underbelly of the New York City drug scene. Wood shows confidence with the scandalous direction and the pulsating visuals in White Girl (think Spring Breakers meets Heaven Knows What), but the story lacks meaningful depth and the characters are as predictable as they come.

Moments after moving into a new apartment, Leah (Morgan Saylor of Homeland) and her roommate (India Menuez) get dirty looks from guys in the area, though they don’t seem to mind. When their weed supply runs out, Leah befriends a local drug dealer named Blue (Brian ‘Sene’ Marc). They end up spending every moment between hits together, and to be fair, he does seem to genuinely care about her, even recommending that she slows down with her cocaine usage. Of course, it’s only a matter of time before Blue gets busted, and guess who’s there to get tangled up in the mess trying to help?

White Girl doesn’t shy away from showing explicit scenes involving sex and drugs, often both at the same time. By the end, there’s such an overwhelming amount of nonconsensual sex, cocaine snorting, and loud club music that it becomes desensitizing. White Girl definitely earns a certain emotional response, but it doesn’t offer much commentary on racial or gender issues, or on much of anything for that matter. Even though the film plays out in a foreseeable manner, it contains a couple solid performances and some striking visuals.

Rating:
6.5/10

If you took the guerilla-style shooting from Escape From Tomorrow and the faux-documentary approach from Computer Chess, you might have something close to what Matt Johnson creates in Operation Avalanche, a captivating film about faking the Apollo 11 mission. Shot illegally (though staying within Fair Rights), Johnson manages to film in NASA headquarters by pretending to be making a documentary. What better place to film a conspiracy film about the moon landing than NASA itself? It’s a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream.

There’s a meta element to Operation Avalanche because the characters in the story employ the same tactic as the real filmmakers. Set during the space race in the ‘60s, America was worried about the possibility of a Russian spy stealing their secrets to get to the moon first. Enter Operation Zipper, a small film crew assigned to pose as clueless documentarians to find the spy. They go around conducting interviews with NASA employees and tap the phone lines of the higher-ups, eventually learning that NASA is 5 years behind schedule because they haven’t figured out how to actually land their moon lander.

Once word spreads that the space program may be jeopardizing John F. Kennedy’s target date the commander wants to shut down Operation Zipper, but the filmmaking team comes up with a plan to save their jobs and fix NASA’s problem: dubbed Operation Avalanche, the team offers to fake the moon landing using the same special effects used in movies. Their first task is to visit the set of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey; since Kubrick’s film involves landing on the moon, why not use his techniques to create their illusion?

Operation Avalanche wonderfully blurs the line between reality and fiction by splicing together new footage with archival footage, creating a similar effect famously used in Forrest Gump. Here, they insert themselves asking for an autograph with the real Stanley Kubrick that looks so authentic it’s scary. Even though the film was shot digitally, cinematographers Andrew Appelle and Jared Raab accurately replicate the visual look and feel of the era. One trick used to create that effect was grading the film, converting it to a 16mm print, and then converting it back to digital. They also film one of the best car chases scenes you’ll see in any film, independent or otherwise.

Most found footage and/or covertly shot films tend to rely on the gimmick of the filming technique, so their narrative takes a back seat. But with Operation Avalanche, the meta format fits effortlessly with the story. It’s an inventive film that works not just because Johnson managed to sneak into NASA and film, but because he crafts an enthralling story to go along with it. Operation Avalanche is an energetic film, filled with innovative tricks and provocative ideas to please anyone looking for an amusing ride, especially those obsessed with conspiracies.

Soon after its Sundance Film Festival premiere, The Birth of a Nation landed a landmark $17.5 million deal—ousting last year’s Me and Earl and the Dying Girl as the record-holder for biggest distribution deal at the fest—making it the talk around Park City and the hottest ticket in town. It’s easy to see why. This slave rebellion film is a remarkable feat for a filmmaker of any experience level, but it’s especially impressive coming from first-time filmmaker Nate Parker, who spent the last 7 years making the film (he also wrote the screenplay and stars in it). It’s also going to be released at a time when the movie industry needs it the most.

Based on a true story, the film recounts the life of slave Nat Turner (Parker) from early childhood to his adult preacher days. While serving under his master Samuel (Armie Hammer), a relatively generous slave owner, Nat convinces him to bid on a woman that caught his eye during a slave auction. Eventually, she and Nat get married and have a baby together. But when Nat travels around to other plantations to read from the Bible, he realizes the horrific treatment of blacks in other areas of Virginia.

Comparisons to Steve McQueen’s 12 Years a Slave are expected, the first of many being how similar Samuel is to Michael Fassbender’s character in McQueen’s film. While The Birth of a Nation is lensed with jaw-dropping camerawork, it also contains many heavy-handed choices, like its washed-out, white look. Even more aggravating is when Parker replays several earlier, violent scenes later on in the film to shock audiences one more time. But despite all of its blemishes, The Birth of a Nation remains undeniably powerful. There’s just as much to admire about it as there is to condemn it, and its haunting finale will get burned into your memory, leaving a devastating toll on one’s emotions.

Rating:
7.5/10

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that, given the word “diversity” dominating recent conversations around the film industry, a festival like Sundance can act an alternative to the homogeneity of the mainstream. By its very nature, independent filmmaking provides more diverse, unique and personal stories, and it’s only upon seeing these kinds of films that one can get a true sense of the importance of opening up to new perspectives. Andrew Ahn’s Spa Night, screening in Sundance’s Official U.S. Dramatic Competition, is a perfect example, a coming-of-age tale that’s refreshing just for the fact that it shines a light on an area of society that’s rarely put on film.

Taking place in Koreatown in Los Angeles, Spa Night follows David (Joe Seo), the son of Korean immigrants Soyoung (Haerry Kim) and Jin (Youn Ho Cho). David’s parents own a restaurant, and he’s been happy to forego attending college in order to help his family’s business. But once the restaurant shuts down, things change significantly for David and his family: Soyoung starts working as a waitress at a restaurant owned by one of her friends at church, Jin turns to drinking in order to cope with his inability to find work, and David starts becoming aware of his attraction towards men. Pushed by his parents to retake his SATs so he can go to college, David decides to find a job instead, working at a Korean spa that doubles as a site for discreet gay hook-ups. The spa serves as a heightened middle ground for David, providing an opportunity to explore his sexual identity while not straying too far from his own cultural comfort zone.

The film’s specificity, combined with Ahn’s sensitivity towards his own characters, go a long way to establishing Spa Night’s unique placement among US cinema, but those factors don’t change how inert the movie feels on an emotional level. David represses his homosexuality due to his religious upbringing and parents’ conservatism (when he asks how they’d feel about him dating a white woman, they stare at him with stunned, disapproving silence), which Ahn reflects through his rigid and detached form, making it hard to invest in David’s internal struggles. Beyond his attraction to men, it’s hard to pin down what exactly David might be feeling about his situation, shutting off any possibility of engaging with David’s story on a character level.

The same can’t be said for David’s parents, whose attempts to recover from losing their business help fill in the film’s emotional gaps. Haerry Kim and Youn Ho Cho both give great performances as David’s parents, but it’s Kim as Soyoung who steals the film from her co-stars. As her character transitions into the family breadwinner after the restaurant’s closure, Kim makes every aspect of Soyoung’s painful adjustment felt. The success of this subplot only makes Ahn’s issues with making David’s storyline resonate all the more frustrating.

For a film loaded with many laughs, it’s strange that Joshy begins on quite the morbid note. Joshy (Silicon Valley’s Thomas Middleditch) arrives home one day to find his fiancé (Alison Brie) lifeless on the floor, dead from an apparent suicide. But the film doesn’t dwell on her death for very long, instead jumping ahead four months when Joshy’s small crew of friends (Nick Kroll, Adam Pally, Alex Ross Perry, and Brett Gelman) elect to celebrate his bachelor party, just as they had intended before the incident occurred. When the boys arrive at their secluded cabin for the party, they discover Joshy saying goodbye to a girl he picked up from the local bar—a rather uncharacteristic move and one that isn’t ever addressed again. Other than this small inexplicable moment, the rest of the film plays out as a hysterical weekend bender of heavy drinking, drug consumption, and partying with hookers. In theory it’s a classic recipe for a “what could possibly go wrong?” scenario, but, oddly enough, the answer in Joshy is nothing.

Credit the amazing cast for making Joshy work as well as it does. Without them, it’s just another hangout movie with a paper-thin plot and very little character development. Granted, simply putting these hilarious actors together in a room would make for entertainment. Each character’s personality puzzle-pieces into the group as a whole. Kroll is the partier. Pally is the sensitive married guy. Perry is the geek. Gelman is the wildcard. And then there’s Middleditch, who’s stuck playing the uninteresting title character—ironically, the least developed of the bunch. There’s also a random appearance by Joe Swanberg (and his real family), who seem only to show up to get a few laughs.

Luckily, there’s enough humor found in sophomore director Jeff Baena’s (Life After Beth) film that it’s easy to forgive some of the off moments. The highlight of Joshy is watching Perry finally getting his wish to play a complicated board game with the group. That’s right, this ensemble even finds a way to make the struggle to play a board game amusing to watch.

Rating:
7/10

On the heels of Richard Linklater’s highly acclaimed Boyhood, director Louis Black (co-founder of SXSW and the Austin Chronicle) captures his filmography and the struggles he’s endured with the film industry. It’s a little odd, though, that the documentary was made now considering Linklater’s career is still very active, but fans of Linklater or his films will likely enjoy this tribute. It’s clearly made with great admiration and respect for the filmmaker, but it doesn’t bring a wealth of new information to the table. Because most of Richard Linklater – Dream is Destiny consists of interviews and behind-the-scenes footage, the documentary seems most practical as a DVD extra feature (we’re looking at you Criterion).

Growing up, Linklater wanted to be either a novelist or a professional baseball player. But a semester in college spent watching movies, and apparently drinking a lot of Pepsi, transformed his career path into filmmaking. Black does a good job defining how unprecedented it was for the Austin-based Linklater to make an indie film like Slacker in a city outside of New York and Los Angeles. Though Richard Linklater – Dream is Destiny makes it a point to discuss the film industry as a whole, Linklater seems mostly content with it. It’s clear that he just wants to make films that he’s proud of, whether it’s a $30,000 film (roughly the budget of Slacker) or a $35,000,000 film (School of Rock), even though he confesses that a film like Slacker wouldn’t take off now like it did back in 1991. “It’d be just another indie film. Whoopee,” he admits.

Rating:
6.5/10

You may recall reading national headlines last year about a lawsuit being filed to grant basic rights to chimpanzees. With their newest documentary Unlocking the Cage, Academy Award-nominated documentary filmmakers Chris Hegedus and D.A. Pennebaker follow the events leading to that first lawsuit. Animal rights lawyer Steven Wise believes it’s his moral responsibility to give fundamental rights to certain cognitively complex animals. He explains how chimpanzees (as well as 3 other species) have been scientifically proven to have self-aware human-life intelligence. They’re able to communicate, show emotions, as well as have an understanding of their own mind. Therefore, they’re autonomous creatures that shouldn’t be forced into imprisonment.

Those expecting the next Project Nim or Blackfish may be disappointed that Unlocking the Cage remains largely a legal drama, spending the majority of its time in courtrooms and clarifying legal speak. There’s no question that the subject of this ruling is monumental; breaking down the legal barrier that separates animals from humans has never been done before. Future generations may look back and wonder what it was like to live in an era where this was tolerated.

In that respect, the documentary doesn’t feel as rewarding as it should. Maybe that’s because most of the emphasis is on our monotonous court system and not on the animals or even the background of the Nonhuman Rights Project. Or maybe it seems unsatisfying because it’s not able to tell the whole story. Unlocking the Cage quotes Winston Churchill by saying this case is just the “end of the beginning,” but it also happens to describe the documentary since it feels like the first part of a two-part story. Hopefully, Hegedus and Pennebaker’s efforts will help bring more awareness and interest in protecting nonhuman rights.

Rating:
6/10

Boyd Holbrook turns in an excellent performance as Mo Lundy, a former convict who spends time in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. The details surrounding the accused crime aren’t important, which is why first-time filmmaker Jason Lew doesn’t bother divulging them. Instead, The Free World concentrates on the struggles of adapting to life outside the prison walls. Lew constructs the film with as a subdued indie noir, but the results are surprisingly potent due to an electric third act.

Now a free man, Mo works at an animal shelter appropriately called Second Hope. The transition into the free world is challenging for Mo, who finds it easier to sleep in his closet than in a bed. Even though he keeps to himself and doesn’t cause trouble, the local police still treat him like a criminal. While on duty one night, a woman (Elisabeth Moss) finds her way into the shelter and passes out covered in blood. Over time, the two get to know one another and discover how similar they are to each other.

The Free World manages to take simple material and elevate it through artful cinematography and terrific performances (Holbrook especially). While there are some tonal quirks—like an out-of-place car chase scene near the end—the film remains an impressive debut from Lew who, at the very least, shows promise as an upcoming filmmaker.

Rating:
7/10

In Clea DuVall’s wildly entertaining directorial debut The Intervention, a group of friends decide to stage an intervention during a weekend getaway. Comprised of a stellar cast ranging from indie darlings to comedic masterminds—including Melanie Lynskey, Cobie Smulders, Ben Schwartz and Alia Shawkat, among others—the film finds the right balance of lightweight comedy and emotional drama. The Intervention is a modern take on the heavily inspired The Big Chill, while incorporating similar elements from recent indies like Drinking Buddies and The Overnight.

Performing an intervention is much more difficult than it sounds, something the friends in The Intervention soon realize. While en route to the getaway house, each couple gets introduced in a comical way; after browsing wedding invite designs and noticing her husband (Jason Ritter) is sleeping next to her on the plane, Annie (Lynskey) asks the flight stewardess for some hard liquor; a lesbian couple (Natasha Lyonne and DuVall) must deal with a flirty male rental car hitting on them; and Jack (Schwartz) shows up with his free-spirited 22-year-old girlfriend Lola (Shawkat). The group plans to collectively tell their friend Ruby (Smulders) that they don’t think she’s a good fit for her self-absorbed prick of a husband Peter (Vincent Piazza).

Just as they’re about to give their “marriage intervention,” each couple begins to realize that their own relationships are flawed. And as incidents unfold, you begin to wonder if these people are in any position to pass judgment onto others. With the help from a talented cast, The Intervention is loaded with hilarious situations and dramatic exchanges. Excelling in performances, dialog, and narrative, the film is a must-see indie gem.

Rating:
8/10

If you could change your identity and start over as someone else, would you? That’s the main proposition in director Joshua Marston’s (Maria Full of Grace) third feature film, Complete Unknown. The film begins as a mystery, following a woman pretending to be someone that she’s not, with Marston taking a big gamble and revealing this information early on. After that, the film suddenly shifts from cryptic thriller to slow conversation piece, a change that might frustrate viewers if it were Complete Unknown’s only issue. It’s one thing to stop asking compelling questions, but it’s another to stop providing compelling answers. After the reveal, Complete Unknown is supposed to be about why she changes her identity, and I’m not sure if the film gives a convincing answer.

Rachel Weisz plays Alice, the mysterious woman who attends a birthday party for Tom (Michael Shannon) on a date for a newly befriended colleague. She’s the life of the party, fascinating everyone with her tales of traveling to Tanzania for 18 months where people started calling her by a different name. The only person not fascinated is Tom, who seems to recognize her as someone named Jenny from years ago.

Once he confronts her about this privately, Complete Unknown transitions into a lengthy heart-to-heart discussion that many are comparing to Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy. But the conversation that follows between them never gets close to as introspective as the comparison suggests.

Rating:
6/10

In the opening scene of Kenneth Lonergan’s Manchester by the Sea, Lee (played by the underappreciated Casey Affleck) asks his nephew Patrick (Lucas Hedges) who he’d rather have with him if he got trapped on a deserted island; his father Joe (Kyle Chandler) or his uncle. He chooses his dad. This hypothetical question sounds arbitrary at first, but it becomes vital to the story as the film progresses.

Jumping ahead several years to the present, Lee lives a lonely, emotionless life as a handyman for an apartment complex. Something tragic happened to him that caused him to be this way, and everyone around town has their own rumor about him. One day he receives a phone call from the hospital informing him that his brother has passed away. Lee learns that he’s now the parental guardian of his nephew, Patrick, even though it’s quite obvious he’s not able to handle that level of responsibility.

Through various flashbacks (sometimes it’s difficult to tell the past from present since Affleck doesn’t seem to age) it’s divulged Lee had a wife (Michelle Williams) and three young kids. Lonergan (Margaret, You Can Count on Me) carefully fills in missing parts of the story, one fragment at a time. Manchester by the Sea primarily focuses on the relationship between Lee and Patrick as they try to cope with various tragedies.

Nearly every aspect of Manchester by the Sea is expertly crafted. Lonergan demonstrates tremendous grace in all of the heartbreaking moments, an area where some filmmakers lay it on too thick. The cinematography and editing are terrific and, aside from an oddly placed Matthew Broderick appearance, the performances are as well. There’s a masterful scene late in the film between Affleck and Williams that’s so powerful it may leave you in tears. Manchester by the Sea is a revelation, a story about admitting defeat and dealing with consequences.

Rating:
8.5/10

The saying goes that time heals all wounds, but in A Good Wife time also uncovers new ones. For middle-aged housewife Milena (writer/director Mirjana Karanovic, making her first feature), life is going well. Her eldest daughter is a successful artist, her two younger children are doing great in school, and her husband Vlada (Boris Isakovic) makes sure she lives a comfy life. When Milena cleans around the house one day, she discovers a VHS tape containing footage of her husband committing war crimes during his days as a soldier. A disturbed Milena puts the tape back, telling no one of what she saw, but word starts getting around that the authorities might have already started investigating Vlada, and the threat of his arrest throws Milena’s happy life into turmoil. At the same time, a check-up at the doctor’s leads to the discovery of a large lump in one of her breasts, and despite Milena’s attempts to avoid getting it checked further, it’s clear that her life is about to go through some major changes.

Karanovic, an accomplished Serbian actress who’s been working for over three decades, shows she has plenty of talent behind the camera as well, directing in a subdued manner that places characters and themes at the forefront. The same can’t necessarily be said about her screenplay, which leans on some heavy-handed metaphors and familiar ideas that can’t help but feel stale. Karanovic makes the link between Milena’s tumor and her willful ignorance of the past impossible to miss, and even with the unique angle of the Yugoslav Wars, watching Milena’s growing awareness of her own domestication as more of a self-imposed prison sentence isn’t especially exciting. But the screenplay’s staleness only ends up being a slight bother, as Karanovic’s direction and captivating performance keep things from falling into tedium. A Good Wife has its flaws, but as a directorial debut, it shows enough promise to hope that it won’t be the only time Karanovic takes a seat in the director’s chair.

Somewhere buried in Kelly Reichardt‘s slice-of-life film, Certain Women, there’s a unified message of empowerment and alienation. Getting to this message, however, is an excruciating test of one’s patience. This is mostly by design as Reichardt focuses on aesthetics and mood more than the film’s narrative. The first story follows Laura (Laura Dern), a lawyer representing a client (Jared Harris) who insists he’s entitled to a workers’ comp settlement, despite being told repeatedly that he has no case. The shortest, and least developed, story is the second one, which involves a husband and wife (James Le Gros and Michelle Williams) constructing a remote weekend getaway home for their family. And the final story is about a Native American horse rancher (Lily Gladstone) who falls for a young lawyer (Kristen Stewart) teaching night classes, an innocent attraction that turns into blatant stalking.

The source material for Certain Women came from a collection of short stories and the film’s format reflects this directly. While each segment contains well-developed characters in unique circumstances, Reichardt drops us right into the middle of a story that’s already unfolding. Details of how the characters got where they are, or where they are going next, are excluded, a technique that can be frustrating. Shot gorgeously on 16mm, Certain Women is a studious slow burner that should appease fans of the auteur filmmaker while others may be left scratching their heads.

Rating:
6.5/10

The opening scene of Andrew Neel’s (King Kelly) Goat leaves its audience completely breathless setting the harrowing tone for what’s to follow. Walking back to his car after leaving a frat party early, Brad (Ben Schnetzer) gets approached by a peculiar person asking for a ride. Reluctant at first, he eventually agrees after the stranger insists he’s just going down the road. The situation gets sketchier when the stranger summons another friend to hop in the car as well. Brad reasonably becomes suspicious at this. Then the two strangers admit they didn’t know the guy who threw the party. When they lead him to drive them to a remote field, Brad has no time even to react before the two men beat him to a pulpy mess, take his money, and drive off with his car.

According to his older brother Brett (an unexpectedly remarkable Nick Jonas), none of these horrid events would have transpired if Brad belonged to a fraternity, a brotherhood where his back would always be covered. So he decides to pledge. And the rest of Goat focuses on the bro culture machoism of a fraternity during pledge “Hell Week.” The appeal is obvious at first. Neel shows the glamorous side of partying with frat brothers—an endless supply of booze, girls willing to take off their clothes, and a random appearance by James Franco (who helped produce the film and owns the tiny role). But the fun and games end when the hazing begins.

Based on actual events, Goat is a disturbing look at what people will endure in order to feel accepted. The issue with Goat isn’t watching a bunch of bros force booze upon pledges while also urinating on them as they lay unclothed and tied up, it’s that the film doesn’t know when to stop. Over and over again, pledges are asked to complete asinine tasks, most of which cross the line in human shaming. Exploitation film, perhaps—or torture porn, depending on who you ask—by the end the film leaves its audience as battered as the pledges. Love it or hate it, the film leaves a lasting impression.

Rating:
7/10

In 2014, Robert Greene premiered his documentary Actress, about his neighbour and former TV star who, after leaving the entertainment industry to become a stay-at-home mom, tries to get back into acting again. On paper, Actress looked like a story of someone pursuing their passion again and facing the greater obstacles that come with time, but Greene had bigger ideas in mind than a simple portrait of his neighbour’s rebooting of her career. The film explored the conflict between performance and nonfiction, and as Actress’ authenticity came into question, so did the preconceived notion of documentary filmmaking as inherently objective or truthful. Compared to the glut of modern documentaries constructed as passive, information-based experiences, Actress was a difficult—and memorable—piece of “non-fiction.”

In some ways, Kate Plays Christine extends the ideas and themes of Actress, albeit through a more ambitious and provocative lens, traversing through darker subject matter in its quest to confront the thorny issues of ethics and responsibility most documentarians would prefer to ignore. The object of Greene’s fascination is Christine Chubbuck, a news reporter in Sarasota, Florida who hosted the local talk show Suncoast Digest. On a Monday morning in 1974 during a live broadcast, Chubbuck made a statement about her station providing “blood and guts” television before shooting herself in the head with a revolver. Not many people outside of a few Sarasotans caught Chubbuck’s suicide, and any tapes of the incident have long been destroyed, but news of her death made national news, even inspiring screenwriter Paddy Chayefsky to write the script for Network.

Now, with the four-decade anniversary of Chubbuck’s death approaching, Greene enlisted actress Kate Lyn Sheil (Sun Don’t Shine, Green) to play Christine in a film about her death. This gives Kate Plays Christine a set-up that operates like a strange, closed loop; the film documents Sheil preparing for her role, but the film within the film doesn’t actually exist. The only purpose of the Christine Chubbuck “biopic” is for Greene to document Sheil’s preparation, an indirect statement by Greene on how pointless he finds the endeavor of trying to fictionalize this sort of material.

That’s only the start of Greene’s deliberate clashes with what one might expect from a documentary of a tragic figure like Chubbuck, removing any clarity or explanation on what might have driven her to perform such a dramatic act. It’s a radical approach because of Greene’s refusal to provide any sense of solid ground, putting viewers right beside him and Sheil as they try to navigate the situation he’s put themselves in. The film exists within an uncertain present tense, avoiding direct messages or an editing style that suggests some sort of hindsight. It’s that lack of guidance, the feeling of actively engaging ideas and themes on the same level as the filmmakers rather than being dictated to, that can make Kate Plays Christine as exciting as it is frustrating.

Naturally, all of this uncertainty wreaks havoc on Sheil’s ability to prepare and perform for her role. Her goal is to give a performance that’s respectful and accurate in its portrayal of Chubbuck, but Greene stacks the deck against her. Aside from Sheil being unable to find any footage of Chubbuck to study, the film she’s acting in is done in a cheap, melodramatic style with no real connection outside of re-enacting known information about Chubbuck weeks before her death. Greene provides a perfect symbol for Sheil’s frustration when he tries shooting a scene of Christine going for a swim in the ocean, with Sheil’s wig falling off the entire time. It’s one thing for Sheil to look the part, but she will never embody or become Chubbuck.

The ambiguous space Kate Plays Christine occupies, while making it impossible not to have the film rattle around in the brain long after it ends, brings up a nagging question over whether or not Greene’s process shields him from criticism. There are moments where the film can feel aimless or messy, but it’s difficult to criticize an inherently flawed design. Greene himself has said that he wanted Kate Plays Christine to be a film that “almost falls apart as you watch,” and it’s hard not to feel that way during the (seemingly) scattershot final act.

Eventually, the film works towards a conclusion: the filming of Chubbuck’s suicide, which Sheil begins feeling hesitant about as she weighs the moral implications of tackling the role she’s signed on for. It’s in these final minutes, where Sheil begins acting out Chubbuck’s final news broadcast, that Greene acknowledges the corner he’s backed himself into. At this point, taking a moralistic route with filming the death would be hypocritical, but showing it would indulge in the same “blood and guts” entertainment Chubbuck called out before shooting herself. Amazingly, Greene gets himself out of this corner by playing out both scenarios in purposely unsatisfying ways. It’s an ending that will please no one—although the idea of wanting to walk away “pleased” by someone tragically taking their own life sounds a bit strange. Greene’s direction and Sheil’s performance help tackle the complexity of documenting Chubbuck’s life, along with interrogating the accepted methods documentaries use to explore these sorts of tragic profiles. Perhaps it’s best to take a page from Greene’s book and approach the conflicting elements with the kind of acute awareness he uses with his films: creating these kinds of clashes and juxtapositions shouldn’t make for easy viewing, and the fact that Kate Plays Christine remains so difficult to shake off should speak for itself.

One of the most buzzed about films during the festival circuit last year was Jeremy Saulnier’s Green Room (we saw it first at Cannes, then TIFF, and now Sundance, its last major festival before a limited release in April). Following up his successful indie thriller Blue Ruin, Saulnier doubles down on just about every aspect: more thrills, more kills, more discomfort, and perhaps most impressive, more narrative. Green Room is a fierce, white-knuckle blood fest that doesn’t stop for air once it gets going.

A struggling punk band appropriately named The Ain’t Rights tour around to any local scene willing to listen, but they haven’t had much luck. Just as they’re about to throw in the towel and head back home, they catch wind of a promising gig, but it comes with a small caveat—the isolated venue is home to a bunch of skinheads. While backstage, the band accidentally witnesses a murder, and from there things spiral out of control. The owner of the venue (a methodical Patrick Stewart) contains the band members in a room while he devises a plan to eliminate them as witnesses, but the band doesn’t give up easy. They come up with their own strategy to make it out alive, and that’s when Green Room transitions from being a thriller to a horror film. The film unfolds like a bloody chess match between both sides, each using any available trick and traps to their advantage.

Green Room is a vivid nightmare that’s impossible to get out of your head. More than just a gruesome blood bath, the film is surprisingly witty and expertly crafted. Saulnier keeps you in suspense until the very end.

Rating:
8/10

Featuring dazzling performances from an all-star cast led by Greta Gerwig, Ethan Hawke, Julianne Moore, and Bill Hader, Rebecca Miller (The Ballad of Jack and Rose, The Private Lives of Pippa Lee) delivers a brilliant genre-bending film that works on many levels. Equal parts whimsical, rom-com, and highbrow, Maggie’s Plan feels like a Woody Allen film.

Greta Gerwig plays Maggie, a free-spirited neurotic character we’ve gotten used to seeing her play over the last few years (Lola Versus, Frances Ha, and Mistress America, to name a few). She decides she’s ready to have a baby, despite her good friend (a wisecracking Bill Hader) begging her to reconsider this idea. Maggie becomes desperate enough that she’s willing to accept a sperm donation from a goofy former classmate for artificial insemination. But her plan changes (as the title suggests) when she meets a handsome novelist John (the always wonderful Ethan Hawke). They begin spending more and more time with each other, and once it’s revealed that he’s going through some marital issues with his wife (Julianne Moore), it’s easy to see where the story is heading. But this is when the film does something interesting. It jumps ahead three years to show Maggie with a kid of her own and now married to John. Gradually, Maggie begins to feel neglected and wonders if she made a mistake marrying John. So, Maggie comes up with a new plan.

One of the best qualities of Maggie’s Plan is that, just when you think you know what’s going to happen next, Miller throws a curveball at the traditional story arc. Maggie’s Plan provides interesting perspectives relationships and love, suggesting that love is messy and that it’s not about who you want to spend the rest of your life with, as much as it’s about figuring out who you can’t spend your life without. The only shortcoming is a drawn out third-act that could be trimmed down by about 15 minutes. But aside from that, the film is an absolute delight.

Rating:
8/10

Known for his quirky sense of humor, director Taika Waititi (What We Do in the Shadows, Eagle vs Shark) adds another film to his growing Sundance portfolio with the light-spirited adventure Hunt for the Wilderpeople. There’s nothing complicated about this zany New Zealand-set comedy, which seems aimed at the same younger demographic who fell in love with Napoleon Dynamite. Though there’s some adult humor sprinkled throughout, it’ll be the young adult audience laughing at every gag while older viewers eventually grow tired of the cheap laughs (especially the repeated fat jokes) and dispensable storyline.

Based on Barry Crump’s novel Wild Pork and Watercress, Hunt for the Wilderpeople begins by introducing us to a “very bad egg” named Ricky (Julian Dennison), a mischievous overweight foster child who moves in with a family living on a remote farm. While not very thrilled about his new arrangement, Ricky warms up to the caring foster aunt (Rima Te Wiata), and eventually to her grumpy husband (Sam Neill). But when family services threaten to take Ricky out of the foster system, he makes a run for it in the New Zealand wilderness. The only person to find Ricky is his foster uncle. For survival purposes, the two form an unlikely bond and work together to evade the authorities searching for them.

Hunt for the Wilderpeople contains similar New Zealand humor found in hit television show Flight of the Conchords, even borrowing the same “it’s like The Lord of the Rings” punch line and the hilarious Rhys Darby (who steals the entire film in his small role). While most of the humor and wacky shenanigans become tiresome by the end, those looking for some light entertainment will find just that.

Rating:
6/10

Chad Hartigan returns to Sundance with Morris From America after earning the Best of NEXT Audience Award back in 2013 for his exceptional film, This Is Martin Bonner. With his newest film, it feels like he’s aiming for that audience award once more, only this time in a more deliberate way. While This Is Martin Bonner was a slow-moving, somber film about a man attempting to re-connect with his daughter, this film is the exact opposite—a rapidly paced and showy film of a child attempting to connect with his father. It’s a total crowd pleaser, hitting all the notes in such a precise way that it feels too safe and overly familiar with other recent Sundance titles (Dope, Me and Earl and the Dying Girl and Brooklyn, for examples). Hartigan’s latest never feels like a waste of time, it just doesn’t bring much originality to the table to reach beyond its middling qualities.

Morris (Markees Christmas) is a 13-year-old American who lives in Germany with his single-father Curtis (Craig Robinson, in his best role to date). Morris is understandably shy and apprehensive about making friends given the fact he speaks very little German. It also doesn’t help that he sticks out in his all-white school, where fellow classmates call him Kobe, because he’s black and American and therefore should be an all-star basketball player. There’s more racial generalization brought up in the film, like when a joint is discovered in the classroom, and (sure enough) Morris is the first and only person accused.

His luck changes when a cute classmate befriends him, perhaps for the fact that she sympathizes with him given she also comes from a single-parent household. But the fling doesn’t last long. The message behind Morris from America comes in a pivotal heart-to-heart conversation when Curtis tells Morris that love makes you do stupid things sometimes. In this scene, Hartigan and cinematographer Sean McElwee show off their talents with an impressive tracking shot in a moving vehicle while Robinson delivers an emotional story about Morris’ mother.

Morris from America is a light-hearted and charming coming-of-age film that isn’t necessarily bad, but the film doesn’t stand out from a crowd of similarly told stories. For each moment worthy of praise, there’s also a fault that follows.

Morris from America (Sundance Review) Rating:
6.5/10

German filmmaker Nicolette Krebitz’s Wild features such an outlandish premise—a lonely depraved woman becomes attracted to a wolf—that it’s nearly impossible to not be curious about it.

Working as a glorified secretary for a demanding boss, Ania (played by an up-and-coming Lilith Stangenberg) is searching for something to disrupt her boring, mundane life. On her way to work one morning, she stumbles upon a wolf staring straight at her. Strange, considering their metropolitan location. A wave of excitement comes over Ania’s face, in high contrast to her usual lethargy. Over time, she is unable to shake the image of the wolf from her mind and not long after this encounter she begins to show signs of wolf-like behavior. She howls at the moon from her apartment balcony and cleans herself by licking her hand. For reasons never fully explained, Ania decides to capture the mysterious wolf.

Wild revolves entirely around its ambiguity. The most intriguing questions of the film are brought up after its first half: Why is this woman going through such great lengths for a random wolf? What will she do if she does manage to capture it? Is she slowly turning into a wolf herself? Where Wild stops being intriguing is when the film stalls from relying too much on all its mystery. Krebitz injects some subplots involving estranged family members and a creepy boss that all end up being so unimportant to the story in the end one wonders why they existed in the first place.

There’s some notable qualities found within Wild, such as the intense performance by Stangenberg and some cool naturalistic cinematography, but they aren’t enough to overcome the dour-ness of everything else. It’s a shame a film with such a fascinating and disturbing subject ends up quite tame and dull. Wild touches on the significance of living out one’s natural instincts, but arriving at this flimsy conclusion is anything but natural, and by all means unexciting.

Wild Sundance Review Rating:
5.5/10

Winner of the Un Certain Regard prize at Cannes this year, Grímur Hákonarson’s Rams starts out as a strange comedy about sheep farming before gradually turning into a heartwarming tale of two estranged brothers attempting to make peace with their past. Despite living right next to each other for 40 years, brothers Gummi (Sigurdur Sigurjonsson) and Kiddi (Theodor Juliusson) barely interact. But that changes when a devastating degenerative disease infects sheep across the community, forcing the brothers to work together to protect their beloved sheep.

Set in a remote Icelandic farming valley featuring picturesque landscapes, Rams combines isolated visuals with a moody musical score to create a haunting, contemplative atmosphere. Doom lurks around every corner in this film, but Hákonarson manages to insert enough tender moments to balance the otherwise melancholy vibe. Watching the farmers kill off their stock in order to eradicate the disease is heartbreaking, but with tragedy comes hospitality. The situation is an opportune time for the brothers to reconcile their differences to save their flock and salvage their relationship. While it’s not overwhelmingly clear why these two brothers haven’t gotten along over all these years, Hákonarson figures it’s less important than watching them set aside their conflicts.

It’s impossible to overlook the striking cinematography found in Rams. Even with a simplistic, and sometimes slow-moving storyline, the film remains engaging due to its strong visuals and absurd comedy. Icelandic filmmakers have recently found their own quirky niche, producing oddball narratives containing depressing dark humor set against gorgeous rural backdrops. Rams would make a great double feature with last year’s Icelandic head-scratcher (which also involved animals) Of Horses and Men.

Rams Sundance Review Rating:
7/10