- “Chad Powers” Remains a Ludicrous, Warm-Hearted Show in Season 2 (September 2, 2026)
The premise of the Glen Powell vehicle “Chad Powers” is ridiculous and doesn’t get any less so in season two. This is still a show about Russ Holliday, an epic flame-out of a quarterback, and his attempt to regain the spotlight as his wig- and prosthetics-powered alter ego, Chad Powers.
Yes, in season two, assistant coach, coach’s daughter, and Chad/Russ’s love interest Ricky Hudson (Perry Mattfeld) knows about the deception. And the central conflict is less about whether Russ can pull it off (although the tension of getting caught still hangs over everything) and more about what trouble backup QB Gerry (Colton Ryan) can stir up as his envy and suspicion of Chad grow.
Which is to say season two is remarkably like season one, same tone, same conflicts, same humor—with only the smallest of adjustments. The first episode feels like it could have been plucked from the middle of the first installment, extending the flavor of the Hulu series, if not doing much for the plot.
Thankfully, the pace picks up after that. Fans of the show shouldn’t worry—this season finale doesn’t blow up the premise, but rather swaps one antagonist for another. “Chad Powers” isn’t a show like “The Good Place,” reworking its set-up at each break. It’s more of the same.
CHAD POWERS – “8th Quarter” – Ahead of the team’s big bye week house party, Coach Hudson grows increasingly suspicious of Chad’s behavior. (Disney/Daniel Delgado Jr.)
GLEN POWELL
The same, and just as good, if not a little bit better, in round two. For one, the second season is funnier; there’s a bit with Russ’s dad (Toby Huss) in the “10th Quarter,” as the episodes are called, that is laugh-out-loud funny. Here, the jokes compound through a set piece that goes from jump-scare to hilarity to heart.
Friend and accomplice Danny (Frankie A. Rodriguez) gets more character development this season. And it’s good to see Danny as an empowered version of the overly used gay sidekick: this is college, after all, and he’s not taking any of the bullying common on high-school shows. But it’s also frustrating that while multiple characters allude to his sexuality, we still don’t get to see him so much as make eyes at a love interest. In a show with countless poop jokes, surely some gay flirting wouldn’t be too grotesque, no?
And of course, Powell’s charisma remains radiant. As wounded, asshole Russ, he’s handsome and terrible, continuing with his bad fashion and political choices, even as his search for real connection only grows stronger. As Russ-as-Chad, he’s awkward and nonsensical, but shares the same aching vulnerability. And it’s his journey that makes the show not just watchable but delightful, emphasizing the rewards of kindness and relationships amid off-the-rails kookiness.
The silly does take up a lot of space, though. Powell’s ability to deliver Russ’s bananas improvisations continues the comic relief even as the idea that Russ could maintain the ruse gets more improbable the longer the show goes on. How did they solve the helmet-wig issue of season one? What about the showers? The habitual, practical problems mostly fade in season two, although the gags with the prosthetics continue, including a game of misplaced nose that spans the entire stadium.
But even if Russ can figure out how to keep his costume on physically, how does he do it emotionally? Can a person really change their behavior so completely and so dramatically? It’s perhaps believable that Russ could do it on the football field, where there’s less talking anyway. But what about class? Like its predecessor, season two doesn’t venture into a lecture hall or laboratory. The closest we get is the cafeteria, and one college party—and both scenes reveal just how ludicrous the whole premise is.
CHAD POWERS – “9th Quarter” – After a tough away game, bad weather strands the Catfish in an Arkansas airport. (Disney/Daniel Delgado Jr.)
GLEN POWELL, STEVE ZAHN, CLAYNE CRAWFORD
And yet, it is nice watching a grade-A jerk learn to be, if not a good person, then at least a better one. Russ wants to play college football again, not just because he’s good at it, but because it’s the last place he felt loved. And his ability to form real relationships with Danny, Coach Hudson (Senior), and Ricky powers his evolution. He’s learning a whole different reward system than the one he existed in as Russ, moving from self-absorption to genuinely caring for other people.
That it’s all built on a set of lies that must, at some point, come tumbling down makes his evolution that much more poignant. Is his progress real? Will it withstand the storm ahead? It’s unclear, but it’s obvious showrunner Michael Waldron (working from a stunt by Eli Manning) has got the audience firmly on its lead’s side, despite all of his misdeeds.
In that way, the audience is in Ricky’s shoes, knowing better but still falling for this ridiculous character and his show. She’s often the voice of reason, trying to bring in a dose of reality in the sideways world she finds herself in, usually to no avail. Now in on the deception, she makes a series of wildly unrealistic decisions, including risking her career for the liar. Her willingness to do so only makes sense because: A. it keeps the show running and B. Glen Powell is such a force. In that, she’s like so many other TV heroines, defined by making a bad choice for the guy, over and over again.
Yet, with Mattfeld’s piercing eyes and lanky physicality, Ricky reminds us that it’s easy to be enamored with “Chad Powers.” No, it doesn’t make any sense. But rehabilitating a selfish failure who’s finally ready to change feels so good. It’s enough to make audiences and assistant coaches do some strange things, like heartily enjoy this show despite all its improbability.
Six episodes screened for review. Premieres on Hulu September 3rd.
- Female Filmmakers in Focus: Poh Si Teng on “American Doctor” (September 2, 2026)
Debuting at Sundance earlier this year, Poh Si Teng‘s “American Doctor” is one of the year’s most essential films. Filmed over the course of a year, the documentary follows three American physicians: Dr. Mark Perlmutter, a Jewish American orthopedic surgeon from North Carolina; Dr. Thaer Ahmad, a Palestinian American emergency physician from Chicago; and Dr. Feroze Sidhwa, a trauma surgeon from California of Pakistani Parsi (Zoroastrian) heritage.
During this time, the physicians volunteer their skills in Gaza at the Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis, with Teng’s film following them on the ground during visits before and after the alleged 2025 ceasefire. The film also follows them back in the United States as they educate and advocate for a true end to horrors they have witnessed.
Although this is Teng’s directorial debut, she is no stranger to world documentary filmmaking. She produced the Oscar-nominated documentary short “St. Louis Superman” and was the executive producer of the Emmy-winning feature “Patrice: The Movie.” Born and raised in Malaysia, she attended Taylor’s College in Kuala Lumpur and studied journalism at San Francisco State University, where she wrote for the student paper the Golden Gate Xpress.
After spending some time working as a journalist in India, she worked at The New York Times as a video journalist before joining Al Jazeera English, where she oversaw their documentary series “Witness.”
“American Doctor” director Poh Si Teng. (Watermelon Pictures)
As Director of Funds and the Enterprise Program at the International Documentary Association (IDA), she spearheaded a grant program for filmmakers with disabilities, supported by the Ford Foundation. She then worked as an Executive Editorial Producer for ABC News Studios under Disney. At the CPH:DOX festival this past March, she shared that, “A year into the genocide, I didn’t have any more words.” She subsequently quit her job and spent approximately $150,000 of her only money to kickstart the budget to begin production on “American Doctor.”
In her director’s statement, Teng shares sentiments that I deeply agree with. She writes, “As an American, I needed to speak out. We are deeply complicit in this war. This is not just Israel’s war on Gaza. It is America’s war, with billions of dollars of American weapons being used to kill children and the innocent…This film is our way of honoring those we have lost—and fighting for the living. It is about bearing witness, speaking truth to power, and refusing to look away.”
For this month’s Female Filmmakers in Focus column, RogerEbert.com spoke with Teng over Zoom the night after the film screened to a sold-out audience at the Music Box Theatre in Chicago (where Teng spoke with documentary participant Dr. Thaer Ahmad). We talk about why she left her career to tell this story, how she turned despair and rage into something positive, and why she still thinks documentaries can help change the world.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Towards the end of the film, Dr. Ahmad is trying to get into Palestine, but he can’t. He says he hopes his children won’t fail the way his generation has. You said in one of your Q&As that the seed money you put into the film was money you’d saved for your child, and you hope they’d understand someday. That feels like an interesting connection of sacrifice from one generation to the next. Had you thought of that connection when you were editing the film?
I don’t think so much of my own sacrifice because I don’t look at material things as something that I’m gonna covet because of my own upbringing. My mother is a staunch Buddhist. She always taught us children, all us kids growing up, that greed is the cause of all suffering; if you have something, you should be ready to let it go because nothing is permanent anyway. So when it comes to material things, I think it’s not that hard. Money comes, money can go, money can come back again. So that’s how I look at it.
My daughter and Dr. Ahmad’s eldest daughter are the same age. So, throughout the entire genocide as it was unfolding, and working on the material and seeing the affected children, it’s been hard. It hits hard. Every night, I definitely held my daughter a little closer. To the point that she would ask me, “Why are you hugging me so tightly?” and I’d say, “It’s because I love you.” I think it was my way of coping. As for our generation, I don’t know. I don’t know whether what we are doing is enough, but we just try.
You left your position working as a creative executive at ABC News to focus on making this film. I wondered if there was a moment when you realized you could spend your energy doing something you truly believed in, or if you had a revelation like that?
I think for me, I was just sad all the time immediately after the beginning of the genocide. Then watching these videos, especially of journalists being killed, that hit home. Especially one particular journalist who I’ve spoken about before: Samer Abu Daqqa. He was a cameraperson. My first job out of college, after the internships, was as a cameraperson. His death really hit hard. Then the silence among peers cut deep. So I thought to myself, I can’t continue. I really cannot. I didn’t want to be in such deep despair all the time. So I ended up watching stream after stream of videos and feeling helpless. I didn’t want to feel helpless.
That’s when I thought maybe I could use my work experience and contacts from the past 20-plus years, and maybe it could come in handy. It was all just trial and error. I wasn’t really sure. I was sure I was going to try, but I wasn’t sure what the final outcome would be. I knew I wanted to make a film.
It’s funny. Earlier, I was reading this text that my friend sent. She took a screenshot, and she sent it to me a few days ago. This exchange happened on September 16th of last year. I’ll read it to you. This was nine plus months into making the film. I said to them, “It’s been such a lonely journey when it comes to funding, only heartache, but things are changing.” They said, “Sometimes it just takes one domino.” I said, “Everything I hoped for when we began: that by the time the film is ready in a year, funders, programmers, hopefully the audience, everyone will be ready. Hopefully, we shall see.” Then my friend messaged, “I’m so proud of you, dude. You were meant for this.” And I said, “Let’s see how far we go.” That was almost a year ago. And so last night, Chicago gave everything that I dreamt of and more.
How did you first come across these three doctors, and at what point did you realize that their advocacy, their friendship, and their shared journey to Nasser Hospital in Gaza was going to be the core story you wanted to tell?
I think once I found Dr. Mark Perlmutter, it was very clear. He introduced me to Dr. Thaer Ahmad and Dr. Feroze Sidhwa. First, the film’s journey started when I quit my job. I took my money out because nobody was dying to fund a film about Palestine. I knew I had to put my money in first. I mean, I had skin in the game. I was determined to make this film no matter what. So it was good motivation, but I didn’t know what film to make.
Then I saw Mark in a news clip. A reporter asked him, “Why do you think there’s no ceasefire?”—this was in 2024—and he said, “There’s no ceasefire because politicians are *expletive* to lobby groups.” It was a breath of fresh air, and then Mark very soon introduced me to Thaer and Feroze. That’s when I thought, three doctors go into a bar, one is Palestinian, one is Jewish, one is Zoroastrian, and that bar is Gaza. It’s Nasser Medical Complex. Then I wanted to see how they were dealing and what would unfold in the coming months.
Thaer was the person that I filmed. It was Christmas 2024, and it was a lonely, lonely time. The first time I met Thaer in person, we were at a clinic filming the little boy [in the film]. This child who had come to the United States to get medical care. I saw Dr. Thaer be so comforting and gentle in how he approached the child and reassured his guardians as well, and I could see what a good person he was.
A few days later was the Muslim American Society convention in Chicago. I already knew from research that there are about 16,000 Palestinians in the Chicagoland area. So I knew right away I was going to open the film with the MAS convention. I wanted the American public, the general broad public, non-Muslims, non-Arabs, non-Palestinians, to see that this is America. So, we went into the convention center and boom. This is America. This is Chicago. And we invited the audience into the Palestinian American community.
Dr. Thaer’s story is so interesting. He is American, just like these other two guys, and yet he is denied entry into Gaza as a doctor. The way you weave him into the film is really impactful. I think people usually think if you have an American passport, you can do anything. But it’s not true. His Palestinian heritage means he can’t go to Palestine. That’s wild. Thaer’s story is a great way of showing the layers of this institutional discrimination around Palestine.
That was at the center of my motivation for making this film. As a woman of color, as somebody who grew up in a minority religious community where I’m from before I came to the United States, and as somebody from a very working-class background, I’m very perceptive to who gets to say what, who gets to do what, and who gets to go where. So when I met the three of them, that was always front and center for me. And of the three doctors, if I can be honest with you, I was rooting for Thaer to get in. I knew the chances of them getting rejected going to Gaza in March 2025 were very high, but I was rooting for Thaer to get in. So when Feroze and Mark got in, and Thaer got rejected, I was crushed for him. I didn’t even have the words to console him.
He actually spoke about this last night. He disappeared. He totally ghosted me. I freaked out because Thaer, in many ways, is the north star of this film, the heart of this film. When he disappeared, I called him, I texted him, I sent him flowers. I remember calling our director of photography, Chris Renteria, who’s based in Chicago, and saying I thought Thaer was mad at me. Chris said, “No, he’s not mad at you. Give him some time.” But I also realized how important it was to capture this moment. I knew from having spent time with him and the community that Palestinians are very polite, so I flew from New York City, where I live, to Chicago. I told him, “Hi. I’m in Chicago,” and he said, “Okay, come and see me.” That was when we shot the scene of him on the couch.
I think it was about a week and a half or two weeks after his rejection. I remember the conversations that we had leading up to that scene, because he was so in so much despair and anger. He wanted to go to Gaza to help his people, to be with his people. He said that he was embarrassed that he couldn’t help his people. I said to him, “Maybe there’s another role for you. Maybe you are not meant to be there. Maybe you are meant to be outside, to speak for your people. You are your people. You are the continuation of your people on the outside. So speak for them.” That was the lead-up to the scene on the couch where he was very honest with his anger and frustration.
I feel like even though this film is very educational, it is also a very angry film, filled with righteous fury. Like when Dr. Feroze talks about how our tax dollars are paying for this genocide. Our government has broken the social contract with the people who allegedly employ them, and this film states those facts very clearly. You have a scene towards the end where you have a news broadcast soundbite from Trump, basically saying that the IDF has used the weapons we gave them well. Then you show what weapons were used – destroying another hospital. It’s a really great piece of editing. It really drives home that the people in charge don’t care.
The film was born out of deep despair and rage. But I also realized if I didn’t convert that into something for myself—and I’m only speaking for myself—it would consume me. Hence the movie “American Doctor.” I’m still thinking about the screening last night. After the film ended, everybody was like, “God bless you, thank you.” It’s impactful when it comes from the community, or even people outside the community. I think to myself that I am so thankful and so grateful to be in Thaer’s world and Feroze and Mark’s world, because they’ve saved me.
Whatever your skill is, putting that energy towards something creative and hopeful is good because, as you said, despair can overwhelm you.
If you linger there for too long, it’ll consume you. I think acknowledging it is important. Acknowledging raw emotions is very important. I think it is important to acknowledge despair, acknowledge rage, and sit with it, but also to know that it will pass. This has been the biggest lesson in my faith. In Buddhism, we are not supposed to hold on to things, even emotions, even feelings. We’re not supposed to hold on tightly. We’re supposed to acknowledge the good and the bad, and that it will pass. That you cannot hold on to it, and so have faith that it will be better. So actually, making this film has been very experiential when it comes to the faith.
A scene that really stuck with me since Sundance is that opening sequence where Mark is saying you can’t blur out images of dead children; that it would be journalistic malpractice. Then the camera holds on those horrible images for quite a while. The film, for me, feels like it’s a film trying to convince people who keep looking away to stop looking away. Why do you think people can still keep looking away so many years into this?
I don’t want to judge other people. I look at the people around me, right? My own friends, and when I was making the film, I was so upset at the people around me because my mind couldn’t understand. It couldn’t process what I was seeing, and just the people around me and how they were. But of course, when I took a step back, I realized that there are a lot of things that occupy one’s mind, especially in the United States. Life isn’t easy here. We have ICE crackdowns. The unemployment situation. So many things right on top of each other. When you look at the situation domestically, so many terrible things are happening on a consistent daily basis. So when something is happening so far away, in Gaza and the West Bank, or in different parts of that region, how are people going to actually compute? These days, when I have more patience and I take a step back, I can see that.
During that first scene, I was frustrated. I wanted it in the film because I wanted to shake my friends and my family. I couldn’t understand, and yet I also understood. So, that’s why that scene is at the top, and why the film is the way it is. I wanted to speak to them, and I didn’t have the language anymore. Then Mark, Thaer, and Feroze gave me the language.
You produced “Patrice: The Movie,” which is so joyous, but it’s also a social change film. It’s really about discrimination at its heart, even though it’s a rom-com-style documentary. With these two films, both social-change documentaries, do you feel that in this era, where so many documentaries are being made, this medium can still help facilitate change?
Absolutely. The power of story can always facilitate change. It’s just how you do it. As a former studio executive, I watch how people watch things. We see what draws them in. With “Patrice: The Movie,” it was clear to me that people like romantic comedies. Seeing director Ted Passon’s vision, I thought, “This is the way we can highlight the inequality when it comes to the disabled community, to put it front and center to a broad audience.”
With “American Doctor,” I knew that Americans love medical dramas. They love “The Pitt.” I love “The Pitt.” So I thought, let’s give them “The Pitt,” but the difference is it’s real, and it’s set in Gaza. Audiences like to see interactions between doctors, healthcare workers, nurses, and patients. Let’s do the same thing in our film. Let’s show Dr. Abed and Dr. Ahem with Dr. Mark. Let’s show Dr. Feroze with Dr. Khaled. Let’s show doctors’ banter. Let’s show camaraderie, let’s show the love for life, let’s show the despair, let’s show friendship, using the elements of another genre, in this case scripted medical dramas, learning those storytelling techniques, and applying them to documentary. The difference is, in documentary, it’s real.
In this day and age, when so much is curated and fake with AI, people want what’s real. And last night at the Music Box Theatre, I saw that. I felt the yearning for reality.
Even if it’s hard.
Yes, even when it’s hard. Because what’s going to happen? It’s still in your mind, right? If you’re following it, if you’re reading news, it’s still playing in your mind. So what better way than to be part of the story by watching it, and then being in the community? That’s how one can process the moment. That’s how I’ve processed it. We’ve had the film playing at festivals for eight months now, and it’s out in the world. I feel so much more confident than I’ve ever been that, one, this was absolutely the right decision, and two, we are heading in the right direction.
- FX’s Exhilarating “The Drop: A Snowfall Saga” Is a Spin-off For the Ages (September 1, 2026)
Three years after FX’s “Snowfall” ended, the show’s first spin-off is finally here. Originally announced in 2023, “The Drop: A Snowfall Story” follows fan-favorite Wanda Bell (Gail Bean) as she embarks on a career in the music industry after finally getting clean from drugs. She, along with her cousins Lamar (Asante Blackk) and James (Peyton Alex Smith), uses their talents to create beats, manage talent, and bring their community together to usher in a new era of music.
While some characters are familiar, this new series feels inherently different from its predecessor. Focused on a community trying to heal from a decade that tried to rip them apart, each episode shows how intertwined the music industry and street politics have always been. As their lives become tied up with up-and-coming rapper Artillery (Simmie “Buddy” Sims III), whose newest track celebrates the death of a police officer, it becomes clear that Wanda, Lamar, and James’s lives are tethered to the realities of the community they grew up in, no matter how hard they try to escape it.
While the plot may sound generic, there’s something present within the foundation of this new series that sets it apart from other crime dramas. In each scene, there’s a freshness that emanates from the camera lens and through the performers that gaze beyond it. At the center of this is Blackk, who, seven years after a breakout performance in Ava DuVernay’s “When They See Us,” has finally been given a screenplay worthy of his talents. As Lamar, he harnesses a wisdom beyond his years, perfectly emulating a man on the precarious cusp between boyhood and the harsh world of adulthood.
He, along with Wanda, is the heart of this story, and Bean is equally staggering when she’s on screen. Though this new version of her may be clean, she’s still the determined and brash woman we’ve always known. Clinging to the dreams of working at a record label, Wanda is determined to see this arc of her life through, no matter the cost. Bean is magnetic throughout it all, her eyes filled with a feverish determination, yet behind her strong outer shell lies a coldness that she harnesses like a weapon, and will define Bean’s on-screen presence for years. Each character in this new series feels lived in, like the air they breathe has transferred from the page of each episode’s script onto the yellow haze of the LA streets they exist upon.
The series is shot, blocked, and framed with life in mind; the lives of these characters, their community, and the city they live in. Every sequence has weight, not just narratively, but in the surroundings of our characters and the music they begin to share. The streets they wander feel alive, backed by a fantastic soundtrack, grounded performances, and well-crafted sets. There’s a particular sequence in the show’s first episode that sets this all in motion, when Lamar plays his first beat for Artillery and his friends. As the musician saunters down the stairs of a trap house, gauze and bandages plastered to his forehead and stomach, he begins to rap over the music blaring in the background.
“These the life and times of a rider,” he chants, as his friends repeat the words, and the original beat fades out and gives way to Larrance “Rance 1500” Dopson’s sinister score. In this moment, we see how music can bring this community together, but also how it can quickly morph from art into something bigger. The words Artillery raps seem to ricochet off the walls of the house he inhabits, and each sequence where these characters create beats and songs is electric. The sound mixing is often tethered to the performances of these actors and is used to highlight the seemingly insignificant everyday sounds and vocal inflections that go into making rap music the elevated genre it’s always been. The craft present within the series gives it a slick edge which allows the show to quickly unfold into a uniquely singular television event.
FX hasn’t simply cashed in on a spin-off of one of the company’s most impressive shows; they have given creator and writer Malcolm Spellman room to shape the future of this franchise, which proves to be a breeding ground for rich storytelling. From its magnetic, expansive cast to its exciting needle drops, each episode has an admirable freshness. In a television landscape filled to the brim with lackluster reboots, sequels, and spin-offs, “The Drop: A Snowfall Saga” manages to stand alone, bringing forth its own remarkable merit. With each well-crafted sequence, this new series proves itself a singular experience, showcasing the intricacies of music, community, and survival in a time of upheaval.
Five episodes were screened for review.
- Short Films in Focus: Bouncy Brothers (with Nicholas J. Santore) (September 1, 2026)
As you’ve traveled this summer, either at carnivals, block parties, state fairs, or street fairs, you have probably seen a bouncy house. Someone was in charge of getting that bouncy house to that location, inflating it, testing it out, and waiting for the rental to be finished so they could deflate it, roll it back up, lift it onto a trailer, take it back to headquarters, re-inflate it, and hose it down before renting it out again. It is hard work that seems like it would put smiles on the faces of those who work these circuits, given their child-pleasing end results, but behind the scenes, it can be physically exhausting and hard to keep up with the demands and cancellations.
“Bouncy Brothers” is a short doc about one man, Anthony Glazier, who got into the business of renting out bouncy houses, a seemingly lucrative business, seeing as how you always count on seeing one somewhere in the summertime. Anthony moved far away from his family to set up shop in a rural area, where his office consists of an overturned bucket for a chair and an actual chair for a table, where he listens to voicemails on his landline from either co-workers calling in sick or customers canceling their order.
For anyone who has gone into business for themselves and works alone most of the time, this will feel painfully real, as you watch your month’s rent, bills, and possible leftover money for savings or spending dwindle with each phone call. Desperate, Anthony calls on his brother, Ted, to come out and help him get back on track. Too many bouncy houses need cleaning, and nobody can do the job alone. Ted agrees, having been here before. This isn’t the first time Anthony has reached out for help.
Bouncy Brothers
Nicholas J. Santore’s documentary dives deeper into their relationship as well as the business of working on your own and surviving by the skin of your teeth. Anthony is clearly a good self-starter, but caves easily when negotiating a price for a bouncy house rental, because something is always better than nothing. Ted, always there to rescue his brother in times of need, fears this venture might not go the distance and that he’ll have to save him again down the road. Still, he’s there and not giving up on him. “Trust is hard to find,” Anthony says. “And I trust my brother more than anybody.”
Santore produced “Bouncy Brothers” with his producing partner, Tom Krawczyk, who directed the wonderful short film, “My Dudus,” which told the story of his mother’s friendship with a neighborhood squirrel. Both films are loving, moving tributes to members of their families (Anthony and Ted are Nicholas’ uncles), while also revealing the heartbreak within the narratives. Bouncy houses, castles, and slides are a lot of fun, but like the relationship between two siblings, they sometimes need a lot of maintenance and care to sustain.
Q&A with director Nicholas J. Santore
How did this come about?
My uncles Anthony and Ted have been next-door neighbors for most of their adult lives. Their houses, located in the west suburbs of Illinois, are also next door to my grandparents (their parents), who first moved into the neighborhood in the early 1960s. As you can imagine, I’ve spent much of my 39 years on that block.
After Anthony moved next door, they spent most of their time working on projects together in Ted’s home workshop, including several years gut-rehabbing Anthony’s house from the ground up. Raised in a tight-knit family with a strong blue-collar work ethic, together they could achieve anything they put their minds to.
But at the end of the pandemic, Anthony was restless for a change. He couldn’t handle the confines of the suburbs and his 9-to-5 job, and he wanted to be the first in the family to give it a go on his own. Anthony had visited a friend who moved to Bushnell, Florida, several times and decided to move there when he was offered the opportunity to take over an inflatable bounce house rental business. On a whim, he traded his newly renovated home for the business, which included five acres of land, a house barely holding onto its foundation, and a collection of inflatable bounce houses. Even with zero knowledge of how to manage the business, Anthony felt it was the perfect opportunity to take a leap and figure it out.
Director Nick Santore
I knew this move was the beginning of a bigger story. Over the next year, I tracked everything happening between Anthony and Ted. I kept thinking how incredible it would be if they were in a position to run the business together; I could somehow show the bond they share by grinding through hard work. Then came that fateful phone call from my uncle Ted. He had told me that Anthony was struggling to run the business by himself and was in dire need of help. Ted, a high school teacher, decided to spend his entire summer in Florida to get Anthony back on track. I knew I had to follow along.
And so, I headed down to Florida to spend a full week capturing Ted’s arrival as he jumped in to help Anthony save the business. Over the course of the week, I discovered more than just a beautiful bond; I chronicled the ups and downs of brotherhood and realized Ted wasn’t there to save just the business, but Anthony himself. This film delves into the inner turmoil we undergo when we choose to leave family behind in pursuit of a dream, how that dream isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be, and what it really looks like to have family by your side.
The film is great at depicting how back-breaking this work is. Did you ever feel the need to put the cameras down and help out? And did you?
We were so wrapped up in capturing absolutely everything we possibly could that we didn’t have time to think about or do anything else!
Did you have the “one year later” idea planned when you finished filming them that summer? Or did you have a finished film and then the “one year later” happened?
The film was actually finished before I decided to add the ending. But as documentaries often go, the story kept going. It took some time and convincing for me to add that last beat to the film; I don’t always like wrapping things up so perfectly for an audience. But since it felt like such a vital part of the story, I knew it had to be in there. I think it really helps solidify how strong the bond between the brothers really is.
What did Anthony and Ted think of this film when they saw it?
I think more than anything, they were impressed by the fact that we were able to pull so much of a story out of what they felt was just a week’s worth of the two of them working. I honestly wish I could have filmed for much longer, especially with Anthony on his own. I think there are so many more layers to this story I’d like to dive into, which I may do within the constructs of a narrative film.
With this and Krawczyk’s “My Dudus,” do you find you’re mainly drawn to stories of your families, or might the next film be a complete departure?
I have always been all about family-focused stories. Although most of my projects have been focused on people close to my collaborators and me, I am starting to explore outside of that close circle. I am currently working as a story producer on a documentary about a high school football team from the ‘80s that is, in its own right, its own little family. As a storyteller, I love examining the values and complexity within family dynamics, and I don’t see that changing any time soon.
- The Unloved, Part 153: This Is My Life (September 1, 2026)
Nora Ephron’s legacy is so vast that you need only say her name and everyone knows exactly what you mean. “Like a Nora Ephron movie,” “right out of a Nora Ephron play,” “a piece redolent of Nora Ephron.” Say no more. And yet her movies don’t get the same shine as the idea of her movies, where people are pushed through the shape of the modern world as if through a pasta maker, having to deal with their new shape and its attendant problems. Namely that you’re about to be someone’s dinner.
Whether that’s Meg Ryan’s bookshop owner fighting for her life when Tom Hanks’ corporate lackey moves in next door to suck the blood out of her business in “You’ve Got Mail.” Or Ryan again and Billy Crystal having to become other people to find love in Rob Reiner’s film of her script “When Harry Met Sally…” Or Meryl Streep’s gadabout having to become a wife for a cad in Mike Nichols’ film of “Heartburn” before finally realizing she’d rather just be herself. That is the plight of the Nora Ephron woman, and once we’ve met them we don’t forget them.
1992’s “This is My Life” didn’t even get a chance to be forgotten, as it barely got attention at the time and has since been so neglected you could be forgiven for not knowing it exists. For a figure as monolithic as Ephron, that’s quite a feat. It’s a crying shame as it’s an incredible piece, funny and brittle and warm and cold all at once. Julie Kavner (the best friend of the comedy writer), Samantha Mathis, and Gabby Hoffman play Ephron at different stages of her life, from the young woman knee high to unappreciated comedic voices in her house, to the teen girl watching with jealousy and sadness as someone close to her becomes too famous to be her mother anymore, and to the woman who thought she could have it all.
It’s a remarkable little comedy with no greater ambition than capturing those moments when three people have to understand what it means to share a life as it changes so dramatically. A really special film. Legendary film critic Carrie Rickey and I once started talking about her movies, and we both landed at the same conclusion: it’s her best movie by quite some distance. When Carrie gives it the seal of approval, that’s gospel.
