- SXSW 2025: baby/girls, Manhood, Drift (March 23, 2026)
A line I keep close to my heart, and one I’ve been asking talent on red carpets and junkets, revolves around Roger’s famous words that movies are empathy machines. When I’ve asked this question, I’m always fascinated by the array of responses I hear. Rarely is one answer the same, and the multiplicity has reminded me that any movie can be an empathy machine, from the works of Lee Chang-dong to “Better Man.”
The documentary films in this dispatch embody this sentiment; where they could have just been sensationalized stories, they are instead projects that present their subjects with grace and understanding. They are radical exercises in empathy for communities that need care and ultimately have to find their own way to save themselves amid a system that has overlooked them.
Alyse Walsh and Jackie Jesko’s “baby/girls” takes an approach to its subject material that’s simultaneously limiting and delicate. Filmed over two years, the films document the lives of Olivia, Grace, and Ariana, teen moms living in Arkansas who wrestle with the reality of raising children in the aftermath of the Dobbs decision. The girls are based in a Christian maternity home in Arkansas called Compassion House.
It’s a sobering, heartbreaking story of young motherhood, one that acts as a celebration of its subjects for ways they embody grace under pressure, but it’s also a caustic critique of the failure of systems in place to help people like these girls; it’s far easier to treat what happens with Olivia, Grace, and Ariana as anomalies and there’s less urgency to offer aid or fix a system just for the sake of what happens outside the margins. Hopefully, the reach of “baby/girls” can go far and wide, showcasing that the struggles these girls face need to be addressed urgently for present and future generations.
The camerawork in “baby/girls” is one of the key markers that make this story feel grounded in its subjects’ perspective. It’s a film that never loses sight of the difficulty we’re observing as children learn to raise children, and of the struggle to live a normal teenage life while also bearing the responsibilities of motherhood. It’s gut-wrenching to watch, if only because we feel these girls shouldn’t have to deal with such questions so early on. But they all speak with refreshing candor, a testament to the safe environment the directors cultivated while filming. The girls are willing to joke about their situation and offer asides that frankly, I’m surprised to hear, given how vulnerable such statements are.
The film is also willing to give kindness when the girls make decisions that seem ethically uncomfortable, such as one who considers giving up their child for adoption because the strain of motherhood is too much. It’s moments like these where “baby/girls” is the strongest; as viewers, we’re invited not to the dogpile in shame but to offer care and to ask about how the system, which already fails women, is responsible for creating environments where moms feel as though they have to deal with issues on their own.
Notably, the main critique that “baby/girls” gives space for is the ways the education system has failed adolescents. “I learned about sex ed when I was seven months pregnant,” one of the girls said. Furthermore, rising daycare costs mean girls aren’t able to pursue their own vocations as they may want to, so they have to rely on family support, some of whom judge them harshly. It’s powerful to witness the girls, despite their hardships, articulating a tangible hope that one doesn’t often think about when choices are limited. Olivia, Grace, and Ariana refuse to believe their stories are written, even if the world around them is all too tempted to.
There’s a line in Eva Victor’s “Sorry, Baby” that came to mind while watching director Daniel Lombroso’s “Manhood.” In the scene in question, Lydie (Naomi Ackie) and Agnes (Victor) humorously discuss the things men say during sex. “Their dick is their whole self,” Lydie says wryly.
While I initially felt that line was a well-written joke when I first saw the film, watching “Manhood” has unlocked a whole new layer to those words. It follows multiple stories of men who receive penis enlargement procedures and the emotional and physical lead-up time and fallout of their decision. By shedding light on a taboo subject, Lombroso ensures that we can’t easily write off what transpires in haste; it’s far too easy to either shudder at the horror of procedures gone wrong (viewers be warned that some botched work is quite horrific) or poke fun at the men going through these methods.
But Lombroso is far too thoughtful of a filmmaker to settle for shock value; he’s interested in the “why,” both for the film’s main subject, Dallas entrepreneur Bill Moore, who is attempting to make these procedures more commonplace, and the men who feel as though an enlarged penis might just be their salvation. It’s in these dovetailing narratives that “Manhood” settles on something much more surprising and tender: a tale of men learning to love themselves and rid themselves of shame.
Lombroso, to his credit, examines the procedure at multiple levels. There are the messages men receive, from frequent consumption of pornography to targeted advertisements, that tell men that the pinnacle of self-satisfaction they may receive is having an enlarged penis. There are people like Moore, who see insecurity as a potential market and thus offer services. Then there are the men themselves, who decide to spend their money on a procedure simply because it’s available. These all work in tandem. We all wrestle with where to put our rage and shame, and for many, Moore offers a way to offset some of it. It makes one wonder how, in our society, apart from the confession booth, we might create space for people to give voice to their shame and, in doing so, be freed by it.
I ultimately left “Manhood” with more questions, and I’m grateful for the way it galvanized my imagination. Whenever there are procedures like Moore’s available, I’m always more interested in their popularity than in their prevalence. Say what you will about plastic surgery, GLP-1 drugs, or penis enlargement, people clearly come to these procedures to have some need of theirs met; they find that their insecurities and frustrations can be solved in some part through these actions. Ultimately, “Manhood” is interested not just in the procedures but in the questions and wrestlings that lead people to adopt them in the first place. As a doctor says, “I can fill your penis with filler, but I cannot fill the hole in your heart.”
On a larger level, what are we doing to help give space and voice to those who feel out of place and believe that undergoing such a procedure is their only option? Lombroso’s documentary is a way to start that conversation. The film articulates, to my mind, a hopeful vision of masculinity, one where we can truly learn what it means to be content with our bodies and selves, even the parts we find shame in.
Deon Taylor’s “Drift” opens with a bold statement that none of what we see is AI-generated. It’s a grounding way to begin his film, which features stunts and scenarios so breathtaking that it’s hard to believe what we’re seeing. Yet what could have been a highlight reel for its subject, instead dives into exploring deeper questions of the psyche. The subject in focus is Isaac Wright, a photographer and army veteran who gained notoriety for scaling the world’s tallest structures and taking pictures, usually from the POV of his shoes.
The results feel otherworldly, as we see him dangle his feet from the Empire State Building to the Ambassador Bridge. Tracing Wright’s various excursions, Taylor isn’t content with making the film a montage of the daredevil’s greatest hits; he wants to understand what would compel Wright to risk his life and imprisonment.
Through interviews and voiceover, Wright sheds his larger-than-life persona to articulate the traumas that have shaped him and pushed him to try to escape the problems below by climbing above. From abuse to family deaths, there’s much for Wright to be mournful about, and it makes sense why he would choose to spend more time above ground than below it. While there is dedicated time for talking-head interviews, much of the film also consists of steadicam footage as we follow Wright on his climb to his next destination. He reveals a bit more of his backstory each time; we quite literally see his justification for each step that he takes. It manifests in one particularly thrilling sequence in which Wright climbs a building in Cincinnati, and Taylor uses a split screen, interweaving Wright’s escape with scenes of the police chasing him. It’s nail-biting to witness them quite literally close the gap.
It’s also a scathing indictment of the ways this country will continue to fail those who serve in its military. While Wright would have been tried for trespassing regardless, the film mentions how, because of Wright’s military background, he’s viewed as more of a threat and is often pursued and tried as if he were one of America’s most wanted murderers.
Furthermore, Taylor is sure to highlight how race has played a role in the response to Wright’s escapades. One detective, Ruberg, serves as the primary antagonist for most of the film, as he tries his hardest to get Wright convicted in every state where Wright illegally trespassed. Wright is quick to share how at each building where he evaded capture, he was never violent and never found with a weapon. Ruberg tries hard to release a picture of Wright looking as menacing as possible to turn the tide of public perception against Wright.
It’s one of the many ways in which Taylor’s film advocates for the importance of storytelling that goes beyond the headlines we see. It’s easy to typecast Wright in one way after hearing what he does, but Taylor’s work is a powerful antidote to the ways we all too easily typecast people based on the little information we know about them.
“The freedom to express is the greatest freedom that people have.” Above all else, “Drift” is a film that reminds people of that power. We may not express ourselves or deal with our pain through scaling buildings, but there’s something undeniably cathartic and powerful about witnessing someone who feels shackled by life finally get their wings.
- Inaugural FECK Awards to Honor Extraordinary Changemakers in Chicago on April 4th at the Ritz Carlton (March 21, 2026)
I am thrilled to announce that the Inaugural edition of The FECK Awards will be celebrating amazing individuals and/or organizations in Chicago on Saturday, April 4th, who truly embody the principles detailed in my book, It’s Time to Give a FECK: Elevating Humanity Through Forgiveness, Empathy, Compassion and Kindness. The FECK Awards are more than a typical award; they are a call to action, honoring everyday heroes and leaders whose actions are helping to build a more humane, understanding, and compassionate world. We announced the 2026 recipients of these awards, whom we found following a nationwide search. And as an added bonus, we identified Honorable Mentions whose work and deeds were also so impactful we wanted to shine a light on them.
Congratulations to Azim Khamisa and the Tariq Khamisa Foundation from San Diego, California, for embodying the transformative value of FORGIVENESS. After his son Tariq was tragically killed in 1995 during a gang initiation robbery, Azim made the extraordinary choice to forgive the teenage offender responsible. Instead of allowing grief to turn into hatred, Azim partnered with the young man’s grandfather, Ples Felix, to found the Tariq Khamisa Foundation, dedicated to stopping youth violence. For more than three decades, the organization has reached more than two million young people with programs promoting accountability, forgiveness, and nonviolence.
Our recipient whose story exudes the value of EMPATHY is Melvin Parson from Ypsilanti, Michigan (pictured above). He founded the We the People Growers Association and We the People Opportunity Farm, which have transformed lives through urban agriculture and second-chance employment. After experiencing incarceration, homelessness, and addiction earlier in life, Parson built a program that created dignified jobs and workforce training through soil-changing opportunities, growing and selling fresh farm foods and creating the Good Soil Café. This helped formerly incarcerated individuals to foster understanding, opportunity, and healing while reducing recidivism. Just as we were going to inform Mr. Parson about his award, we were informed that he passed away earlier this month on March 5th. His work lives on.
Jayera Griffin of Riverdale, Illinois, is this year’s award recipient best representing the principle of COMPASSION. She began serving her community at just 14 years old by organizing free laundry days so students could have clean clothes for school. Now 22 and graduating from Western Illinois University in 2026 with plans to become an elementary school teacher, Griffin continues to lead initiatives that support and uplift her community, including organizing CPR and AED training for young people, collecting clothing for seniors, and organizing school supply drives and holiday programs for neighborhood families.
Last but certainly not least is our winner who embodies KINDNESS, David Ludlow Jr., of South Elgin, Illinois. He was born with Down Syndrome, and now at age 35, demonstrates the profound impact one person’s generosity can have. Each year, he saves his earnings to purchase toys for his local fire district’s Toys for Tots drive. In 2025 alone, he donated nearly 100 toys, inspiring an outpouring of additional donations from the community. At Rising Lights Project, a learning space for adults with developmental and intellectual disabilities, Luplow is known for his quiet acts of kindness that inspire a ripple effect in the community.
We look forward to introducing our FECK Awardees or their representatives to the audience at 6 pm at the Ritz Carlton Water Tower Place. Members of our Panel of Judges will also be in attendance. The evening will start with musical selections from award-winning jazz vocalist Tammy McCann, and international vocalist Calvin Bridges. Come join us for an evening of joy and inspiration!
I would also like to highlight our Honorable Mentions in each category starting with Forgiveness: Judge Kathleen Coffey, founder of the Homeless Court at Boston’s Pine Street Inn, in Boston, Massachusetts. Each month for 15 years before retiring in late 2025, Judge Coffey transformed a room at the Pine Street Inn homeless shelter into a courtroom where people experiencing homelessness, facing misdemeanors, nonviolent felonies, or default warrants, could come before her to be heard and have their cases adjudicated, allowing individuals to rebuild dignity and self-respect through employment, housing and other opportunities.
Our Honorable Mentions in the categories of Empathy, Compassion and Kindness are:
-The Cancer Cartel in Enumclaw, Washington. Founded by three remarkable cancer survivors, Kerry Solmonsen, Katy Tinney-Olson and Shelly Tinney-Miller, this national non-profit was born from their firsthand experience of how wellness and financial considerations can be at odds. In it’s Mission Statement it says: Cancer Cartel provides financial resources to cancer Warriors. We want anyone in the battle against cancer to be able to focus all of their energy on getting well and nor on how much having cancer is costing them. From gas money to groceries, power bills to mortgage payments, we are fighting to tear down financial barriers to wellness. (They depend on grants,strategic partnerships, and donations which are passed directly to cancer Warriors, and all operating costs are underwritten.)
-Michael Airhart, founder of Chicago’s Taste for the Homeless. Airhart’s nonprofit provides services to uplift homeless people and those living in shelters to become contributing citizens by providing hot food, clothing, hygiene items, and social services. He said it is a calling for him, as he could not just walk past people who needed help without providing it. His organization has grown with the aid of many kind people who are attracted to his goodness.
-Hector and Diane Corona are founders of City Kids Camp in Chicago. It is a free summer camp for children from economically disadvantaged communities, allowing them to experience a true outdoor adventure in a peaceful environment. They recognized the healing power of nature, just allowing kids to be kids away from the cares of the city.
These descriptions are but a thumbnail introduction of what each of the Winners and Honorable Mentions bring to the world. On April 4th, when we celebrate these everyday heroes in person and introduce them to each other, our inaugural honorees will show what it truly means to “give a FECK.” Their stories remind us that each of us has the power to uplift others and help create a kinder and more compassionate world. Join us for an inspiring evening of storytelling, celebration, and community honoring these remarkable individuals and the values they represent. Reception begins at 6pm CT, followed by dinner and the awards show at 6:30pm CT. For full event details and to order tickets, visit GiveAFECK.com.
- SXSW 2025: Beast Race (Corrida Dos Bichos), Campeón Gabacho, Grind (March 20, 2026)
As the effects of late-stage capitalism become not only more pervasive but also irreversible, it’s understandable that the art created will reflect a range of reactions to aspects of our crumbling reality. Whether they’re depicting alternate futures or presenting heightened versions of what we presently experience, it’s encouraging that these films in this dispatch road map serve as vessels for that rage.
Messy as some of these expressions might be, there’s an invitation in each one, as if the filmmakers are asking viewers to brainstorm new ways of surviving. What does become clear is the filmmakers’ belief in the enduring spirit of humanity, and that maybe the way to survive increasingly digitized lives is to press into the messiness, awkwardness, and inconvenience of in-person relationships.
Brazilian cinema has been having an exciting moment in the cultural limelight thanks to the success and visibility of projects like “Apocalypse in the Tropics,” “I’m Still Here,” and “The Secret Agent.” The thrills of the Brazilian action film “Beast Race (Corrida Dos Bichos)” are a little more straightforward, taking its themes around government malfeasance and corrupt authority figures and slipping them into the straitjacket of a story that feels a bit like “The Hunger Games” by way of “The Running Man” and a dash of “American Ninja Warrior.”
I’ll always support watching the rough gems of a country that may not otherwise get the same airtime as “elevated” art house fare (from Korea, I champion “Extreme Job” as much as “Burning”) and while there’s enough to admire, the film feels like a diminutive exercise as its most thrilling moments will most likely have you thinking of the other films its drawing from. The result is a film that has both too much going on and not enough to set itself apart.
The ambition and world-building are undeniable from the first frames by directors Fernando Meirelles, Rodrigo Pesavento, and Ernesto Solis, where an on-screen crawl expedites the necessary information before we’re thrust into the film’s propulsive premise. Set in a future where Rio de Janeiro undergoes a drastic transformation after Guanabara Bay dries up, the powerful and wealthy take advantage, using the arid land as a launchpad for cruelty.
The city hosts the titular beast-race competition, where under-resourced participants run across the terrain to reach the finish line. They face not just each other but the locals who bristle at having their homeland transformed into a playground for the well-off’s appetites for violence. Those who run have to also offer someone for “collateral”–usually a family member–who will become the property of the wealthy person sponsoring them should they lose. Mano (Matheus Abreu) is the latest unfortunate soul to be drafted into these games and races to save his sister, Dalva (Thainá Duarte).
The titular races are thrilling, with Gustavo Hadba’s cinematography capturing them with a kind of panache that makes it feel like we’re on the ground with the runners as they duck and weave through obstacles. But at over two hours, there is perhaps one race too many, and they rarely feel that different from one another.
Thematically, the film feels a bit muddled: Mano’s struggle is with whether he can beat the system through his participation, and without spoiling the film’s ending, the message of his struggle feels confused; is it best to give up? Is the only way out through? His relationship with his sponsor, Nadine (Isis Valverde), is also a point of narrative tension, but it seems too shallow and rushed to ever quite resonate.
If you are interested in seeing dynamic set pieces, “Beast Race” will deliver, but the story in between never feels compelling enough for one to want to stick around. I’m all for a big swing, but the punch has to connect, and what we’re left with is a bunch of scattered blows looking for somewhere to land.
The scale of Jonás Cuarón’s “Campeón Gabacho” may not be as large, but that doesn’t stop this pertinent story from trying to tell its narrative in a big way. It’s one of the most visually inventive films I’ve seen at the festival, and it moves with an excitement that’s hard not to be enraptured by. It’s as much a celebration of the endurance of the human spirit as its creativity, a beautiful testament to our ability to bounce back when we have the right people in our corner. Seldom do movies like this nail the balance between the heartbreaking and the entertaining, but this film flies effortlessly between those modes.
Cuarón’s effervescent film follows Liborio (Juan Daniel García Treviño), a migrant from Mexico who arrives in NYC in search of a better life. Within moments, Liborio realizes the bitter truth: it turns out it’s quite easy to start anew in the land of the free, you just have to deal with the xenophobia, exploitation, police brutality, unrequited love, economic disparity, and sense of self-loathing that seems endemic to all who try to escape where they come from. Priding himself on his ability to take hits, both physical and emotional, he is drawn into the orbit of Abacuc (Rubén Blades), who runs an orphanage and encourages the young man to channel his anger and rage into boxing.
This isn’t a film of small emotions, and so much of “Campeón Gabacho” serves as a gleeful exploration of how we all universally feel emotions in new ways. Treviño gives a truly singular performance as Liborio, playing the wide-eyed, thin-lipped fighter with an inner pain that can barely be concealed by fighting. He frequently takes breaks from what’s going on and turns to the camera–“Fleabag” style–and speaks with a satirical tone; he believes all he’s good for is being thrown around as life’s punching bag. It’s rewarding to witness him transform from a solo act into someone who embraces the responsibility of being an icon and visionary; the very perseverance he hates himself for is the very thing that will inspire the people around him.
There are surrealist flourishes that give the film its personality; Cuarón seems to suggest that the emotions these characters feel are metaphysical, letting the world outside them react to what goes on inside. Take a moment when Liborio and Aireen (Leslie Grace) begin to fall in love: the film shows the two of them being lifted from the rooftop they’re on and flying into the sky, eventually into the cosmos.
It’s a touching moment and an example of the film feeling alive, wanting to showcase and honor its characters’ emotions. There’s much to trade blows at in the world and much to solve behind anger and fists. “Campeón Gabacho” gives space for our anger and hope, saying both are needed if we are to survive this world. Ultimately, a riotous crowd pleaser that tells the struggles (and hopeful triumphs) of immigrants with flamboyance and whimsy.
The horror anthology “Grind” tackles its questions about capitalism and exploitation head-on. Directors Brea Grant, Ed Dougherty, and Chelsea Stardust direct vignettes exploring the various vocations that have emerged from the gig economy, from food delivery to influencer work.
The various shorts are succinct enough to be enticing just at an elevator pitch level but it’s more rewarding to see how far each director takes their film’s concept: “ML” focuses on a woman whose failure to sell a certain number of leggings results in terrifying consequences for her and her husband, “Delivery” follows a driver who finds himself caught in a time loop after he drops of food for a suspicious client, “Content Moderation” focuses on someone who goes crazy after subjecting themselves to the worst videos of the internet, while “Union Meeting” mixes creature feature thrills with a group of people at a coffee shop who are thinking about unionizing. They all fall delightfully off the rails, a testament to the directors’ confidence in their twisted visions.
These anecdotes bleed seamlessly into each other, which makes it feel like you’re drinking a demented smoothie of insanity in all flavors. This works in “Grind’s” favor as microdosing each one might have sapped the project’s momentum. The films vary in tone and effectiveness, but there’s a sobering quality to their absurdity. Grant, Dougherty, and Stardust aren’t content to let their stories stay in the realm of satire. We may not have an axe-murderer sent our way yet if we miss a couple of deadlines here and there, but as corporations are backed by technologies that enable those in power to enforce work cruelly, that possibility isn’t entirely out of the question.
While the jury’s still out on the timeline our robots will take over for us, this in-between state we find ourselves in is one characterized by rampant exploitation. It’s far easier for companies to promise 1-day shipping, higher quotas, and faster delivery services if they don’t care about the people who put their bodies and minds on the line doing such work. “Grind” films offer a collage of the people who are being sacrificed on the altar of “magic.” Do we consider the people who race to deliver the duct tape that we wanted expedited? What’s going on with the souls of those people who have to subject themselves to violent images every day and have to filter through them? It may not be perfect, but it acts as a pulpy wake-up call to wake us up from our doom-scroll-induced slumber.
- SXSW 2026: Brian, Basic, Seekers of Infinite Love (March 20, 2026)
A previous dispatch from this year’s SXSW highlighted how so many of the horror films here seem to be almost existential in their questioning who we want to be in the 2020s as technology continues to redefine the human condition. The funny thing is that several of the comedies this year also contain existential foundations regarding how we define ourselves whether it’s through high school popularity, online drama, or even joining a cult. They all have elements that can feel a bit sitcom-y although two of them overcome those foundations to find something truthful and funny, while the third can never get over what its broad sense of humor does to flatten its characters.
The best of the bunch, although just barely, is Will Ropp’s clever “Brian,” a film that I like for more than just its awesome name. Written by Mike Scollins, “Brian” is at its best when it digs below the abrasive personality of its titular character, a high school student who pushes past awkward to obnoxious. It’s not unfair to say that it’s a film with echoes of “Napoleon Dynamite,” but it’s willing to ask if these quirky comedy protagonists might also have a notable degree of mental illness. Brian (Ben Wang) seems at first to just be another weird teenager, but there’s something darker under the surface of his outbursts and when Ropp takes Brian’s panic attacks seriously, his film defies some of its coming-of-age tropes. Of course, it helps to have Randall Park to just come in and nail several scene-ending punchlines like a comedy assassin.
Brian is a movie kid we’ve seen before: the most bullied at his high school until he meets a new kid named Justin (Joshua Colley), an outgoing young man who helps bring Brian out of his shell. When Brian isn’t suffering full-on panic attacks (what he calls “freak outs”) at school, he’s pining for one of his teachers (Natalie Morales) or dodging insults from his obnoxious older brother (Sam Song Li). His mother (Edi Patterson) wants to protect Brian, but she also gives him the space to figure out who he wants to be, and he’s decided that, in order to get closer to his teacher crush, he’s going to run for Class President against the pretty boy who has never had opposition before and a vocal feminist who wants to change the school government from within.
Wang understands this character well, rarely giving into traditional comedy tropes of the “bullied nerd.” He humanizes Brian in a way that’s essential to the success of the film, allowing us to care about what happens to a kid who can truly be kind of a jerk. That’s also a positive quality of Ropp’s film in that they don’t get overly sentimental in their presentation of Brian or his arc. By refusing easy outs, “Brian” feels more like a character study than your average teen comedy. We may not all be able to see ourselves in the quirky Brian, but it’s the film’s desire to be specific instead of some idea of universal that makes it work. Brian doesn’t have an easy life, but neither do a lot of teenagers. Heck, most adults, too.
At its core, Chelsea Devantez’s “Basic” is also about people figuring out who they are through the emotionally fraught world of social media and ex-partners. It turns that high school isn’t the only place where popularity and identity lead to irrational behavior. In this case, it’s the story of a woman who becomes obsessed with her boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend, thinking that her perfect online persona is a challenge to her own happiness. Of course, there’s more to her than meets the Instagram.
Ashley Park is excellent as Gloria, a woman who wonders why her boyfriend Nick (Taylor John Smith) doesn’t post any photos of them online. After all, he posted non-stop when he dated the gorgeous Kaylinn (Leighton Meester), and so Gloria is constantly seeing photos of Nick in a happy relationship with someone else. It doesn’t help that Kaylinn has resurfaced in their online life, commenting on one of Nick’s photos. What does she want? Gloria decides to turn her cyberstalking into the real thing and tracks down Kaylinn, only to realize that jealousy goes both ways.
The best elements of “Basic” illuminate how so much of our online lives are a lie. We can only see part of the picture when we look at happy couples on our social feeds, and we make assumptions about how much better other people have it than we do, forgetting that everyone shapes their online lives to give a desired effect. Park and Meester are excellent, finding different comic rhythms that truly allows “Basic” to become more than its title. The first half can feel a little thin, and the whole thing relies way too much on voiceover, but that falls away with Meester and Park’s comic chemistry as two very different women who discover their common ground.
The characters in Victoria Strouse’s “Seekers of Infinite Love” are also trying to find common ground, but none of it feels true enough to register beyond their thin characters in a sitcom plot. A new entry in one of my least favorite subgenres—comedies about families who have to go on a road trip to learn to be decent to each other—“Seekers” stars some incredibly talented people, but they get lost in a film that doesn’t have actual human behavior. It’s one of those movies in which the characters are pushed around by sitcom beats instead of doing or saying things that feel organic. Some of the laughs come just because this cast is so undeniably talented, but they eventually succumb to a project that never really figured out what it was seeking.
Strouse was smart to cast her film with people who have proven their skill at acerbic comedy, especially the wonderful “Hacks” Emmy winner Hannah Einbinder, who plays Kayla. She arrives at her lawyer brother’s (John Reynolds of “Search Party”) office with her brother (Griffin Gluck of “American Vandal”) only to learn that their sister Scarlett (Justine Lupe) has joined the cult that gives this film its title. Scarlett’s siblings hire an expert in cult extraction (Justin Theroux) to get her back, but Kayla’s fear of flying forces them into a road trip to retrieve Scarlett before a mass suicide makes that impossible.
Clearly, this ensemble knows how to sell a broad comedy that features pit stops at a fat camp and a car chase after a child is kidnapped, but they can’t push through the sitcomish nature of the overall script enough to sell it. We end up knowing almost nothing about these characters other than how they annoy each other (and us), making it difficult to root for them to reach their destination. In a SXSW of comedies about where we’re going, this one gets lost.
- SXSW 2026: Never After Dark, Dreamquil, Drag (March 20, 2026)
My final genre-centered dispatch from SXSW 2026 features three films that mostly take place in single settings, using storytelling devices made famous by everything from J-Horror to “Black Mirror.” They’re a mixed bag of quality, three films that have undeniably interesting premises but vary in how they follow through on those premises. Once again, filmmakers at SXSW seem to wear their influences on their sleeves with these flicks including nods to Hideo Nakata and, believe it or not, Douglas Sirk. You never know what you’re gonna see in Austin.
The best of the three by some margin is Dave Boyle’s effective “Never After Dark,” a nod to Japanese and South Korean horror films like “Ringu” and, most effectively, “A Tale of Two Sisters.” Like much of the horror from that part of the world in the ‘90s and ‘00s, “Never After Dark” is a story about how real-world violence creates ruptures that bring forth supernatural reckonings. It’s one of the better-made films I saw in Austin this year in terms of craft, a work that builds atmosphere and tension to a truly insane final act. Some of the slow burn of the first two acts sizzles a little too slowly, but it gets to something memorably intense, especially for those with a particular aversion to people losing their teeth in horror movies. Ew.
“Shogun” star Moeka Hoshi is excellent as Airi, a traveling medium who we first believe is going to her newest job with her sister in the backseat, only to discover that the sibling isn’t really there, a sort of “Sixth Sense” companion for our protagonist, one that can only be seen in reflections. This sets up Airi as the real deal; she’s no charlatan looking to grift the grieving. After all, she has a ghost for a BFF.
Airi arrives at a remote country home that’s haunted by a grotesquely disfigured man who stalks the property at night. Our medium has techniques for this kind of thing that allow her to “pierce the veil” to determine what the ghosts need, but this one behaves differently. When Airi discovers that the supernatural elements of this story aren’t nearly as deadly as the living ones, “Never After Dark” becomes an intense thriller, using imagery that recalls great horror films without ever feeling like a direct copy.
Hoshi’s deeply present, engaged performance is one of the main reasons “Never After Dark” works so well, but it’s also an undeniably well-made piece of horror filmmaking in terms of craft. Boyle glides his camera up and down the stairs of this perfect setting, one of those old homes that feels haunted even before bloody figures prowl its halls. He knows how to get a lot of mileage out of a figure in the background or, in the final act, sudden violence. It’s a film that may not live entirely up to the best of its influences, but it’s made by someone who clearly understands why those films have become such an important part of horror history.
One of the oddest films of this year’s SXSW is Alex Prager’s “Dreamquil,” an unexpected blend of Sirkian melodrama and something more akin to “The Twilight Zone” or “Black Mirror.” Ultimately, it’s way too thin a script, one that just doesn’t have enough narrative or thematic meat on its bones, even if I admired some of the more unusual swings of its design.
“Dreamquil” unfolds in a probably inevitable future in which the air quality has become so toxic that people exist mostly in virtual reality. If you think your family is driving you crazy now, imagine how it will be when you can’t leave the house anymore. Carol (Elizabeth Banks) and Gary (John C. Reilly) are struggling through a rough patch in their marriage, heightened by the claustrophobia of this vision of the future. They’re presented with a virtual wellness retreat called “Dreamquil,” which will allow Carol to recharge and return committed to her marriage and son. Much to Carol’s surprise, while she was away, Gary brought in an AI version of his wife, someone who does many of the same things as the real Carol … but better.
What would you do if you were replaced by an AI version of yourself? And would you replace your own partner with a version that never complained? These are questions at the core of this “Black Mirror” premise, but Prager doesn’t add enough new to the conversation.
Much better than the shallow script are the design choices that make “Dreamquil” look like a ’50s melodrama with bright colors in costume design and old-fashioned elements to the art direction, too. It’s a visually effective trick that heightens the sense of displacement, and it’s nice to see a film at this year’s fest that takes these elements seriously, given how often I was frustrated by the lack of visual language at SXSW. I just wish it were lifting up a more interesting project.
Speaking of failed potential, there’s Raviv Ullman & Greg Yagolnitzer’s bleak “Drag,” a movie that starts with a clever conceit but devolves into something so brutal and downright mean that it leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Its star remains a wonderfully physical and impressive performer, but she can’t keep this one from living up to its title. It’s a drag, man.
The star is the great Lizzy Caplan, who plays a burglar breaking into a fancy home one night with her reticent sister (Lucy DeVito). Sis is just supposed to be the getaway driver, but she runs into the McMansion when she hears a scream, only to find Caplan’s character immobile in the bathtub after throwing out her back. The only solution here is simple: one sister will have to drag the other out of the house before the owner returns. Little do they know that the man of the house (John Stamos) is a serial killer.
What starts with an almost comical premise, as the relatively short DeVito is forced to physically drag Caplan down the hall and push her down the stairs, becomes something much darker in the second half, and the directors can’t handle the tone switch and don’t really earn the truly depressing ending. Part of the problem is that the jolt of the clever casting of seeing Uncle Jesse go Patrick Bateman wears off when one realizes he’s just not quite right for the part. He’s not believably menacing, which turns “Drag” into an exercise in cruelty without actual stakes. It’s always a joy to see Caplan do her thing, but she should drag whoever convinced her to sign onto this one.
