- Excellent Ensemble Hones Philly Accents, Thriller Tension in Apple’s “Nocturne” (October 27, 2026)
If someone wanted to set a “The Silence of the Lambs” riff in the world of the heavily accented “Mare of Easttown,” it would play out like “Nocturne.” The Thomas Harris influence on this adaptation of a pair of novels by the Swedish writer Lars Kepler (which is really the pen name for a husband-and-wife duo of thriller scribes) is blatant: An ambitious young agent is sent deep into a psychiatric facility to speak to a notorious serial killer to solve a case currently unfolding on the outside. Top-notch production values, a remarkable ensemble, and sharp thriller plotting allow “Nocturne” to escape the shadow of its obvious influences, even one as big as Hannibal the Cannibal.
The Lecter of this scenario is Jurek Walter (Stephen Graham, turning that “Adolescence” acclaim into more high-profile work), a notorious serial killer who is introduced essentially talking the patient in the room next to him into killing himself by bashing his head against the wall. Much like Hannibal could talk his Miggs into doing the unthinkable, Walter seems to have an almost supernatural gift for persuasion, making the facility’s newest nurse, Karl (Rory Culkin), an easy target for getting what he wants done on the outside.
While this is happening, a boy who was kidnapped years ago suddenly reappears, dazed and confused on a Pennsylvania bridge. Long presumed a victim of Walter’s, the boy’s reemergence sets in motion an investigation not only into where he’s been but whether the sister who was abducted at the same time might also still be alive. How did the child survive if Walter was in jail? And who let him go?
As the boy’s mother (Chrissy Metz) tries to adjust to both the shock of having her child back and the emotion around what might have happened to him for the last several years, the detective who originally put Walter behind bars reboots the investigation. With help from a federal agent named Quinn (Poorna Jagannathan) and a local chief/friend named Ellison (Bill Camp), cop Jonah Lynn (Liev Schreiber) reignites an aspect of the case that’s always haunted him: Did Jurek Walter have a partner in crime?
As if this isn’t enough, the real lead of “Nocturne” is arguably Zazie Beetz as the remarkably named Saga Bauer, an ally of Lynn’s who ends up going undercover in the hospital to get close enough to Walter to solve all the cases, closing the loops about what happened years ago and finding the missing girl. The episodes of “Nocturne” sent to press alternate between Bauer cutting legal corners in the facility to get information while Lynn, Ellison, and Quinn race against time to find the girl who so many presumed dead.
Adapted by Rowan Joffe (writer of “28 Weeks Later” and “Ballad of a Small Player”), “Nocturne” has consistently sharp dialogue and strong pacing. Unlike so many streaming shows, it moves at a solid clip, pausing a bit more than it needs to for exposition but less than most modern thrillers. It mostly avoids the trap of feeling like something you can watch with your phone in your hand, rewarding diligent viewers with engaging performances that push through the amazing Philly accents. (It’s worth it just to hear Schreiber say “Uuuuber.”) The “Ray Donovan” star plays resignation and trauma over his natural charisma, a smart choice—Jonah Lynn is haunted by choices he made during the Walter investigation to the point that he’s almost hesitant to finally place the missing pieces in this puzzle. Schreiber gives a subtle turn in a genre that rarely allows for that.
The entire cast is effective: Bill Camp remains an underrated character actor; Jagannathan continues a stellar year after her turn on “Lanterns”; Culkin is slippery in just the right way; Beetz has always had an ability to find the right rhythms for her characters. In the episodes sent for press, Metz is underwritten, but it’s a minor complaint. And then there’s Stephen Graham, who continues to do excellent work, even if he’ll always look a bit more British than Philly. Directed well by legendary TV vet Tim Van Patten in early, show-defining episodes, Graham goes quietly terrifying instead of the scenery-chewing option that other performers might have taken.
An actual critical opinion on “Nocturne” is a bit dicey because Apple TV chose not to send the final three episodes to press. It could be to keep the thriller’s secrets, but the company almost always sends the full run of a season, which leads one to believe this could really go off the rails (à la the ludicrous “Smoke,” which became one of the silliest Apple shows ever in its final stretch after a promising lead-up). So if “Nocturne” can’t stick the landing, don’t blame critics. What matters is that the first 70% of the story of Saga Bauer, Jonah Lynn, and Jurek Walter hits enough right notes that you’ll be eager to hear the end of the composition.
Seven episodes screened for review. Premieres on Apple TV on October 30.
- You Are Invited to Attend the Premiere of “Christian Holder: My Life is Dance,” October 30th and 31st at the Chicago History Museum (October 27, 2026)
Oscar-winning producer and director Brigitte Berman (“Artie Shaw: Time Is All You’ve Got”) is premiering her new film “Christian Holder: My Life Is Dance” at the Chicago History Museum on Friday, October 30, and Saturday, October 31. Tickets are free and can be reserved here.
Christian Holder is one of the most celebrated dancers in the history of Chicago’s Joffrey Ballet Company, and what makes this film so distinctive is how it details the story of his life through his artistry. The autobiographical cabarets that Holder debuted in New York and London are masterfully utilized by Berman as her film’s narrative backbone, while illuminating how he tackled some of the most vital issues of his time including civil rights, his anti-war stance and his passion for humanity. Christian Holder is the nephew of Geoffrey Holder and Carmen de Lavallade (who is in the film). He was a force of nature. Sadly, he passed away just last February 2025, at age 75.
His acclaimed performance as Death in the revival of Kurt Jooss’s antiwar ballet The Green Table enabled him to express through dance his opposition to the ongoing Vietnam War during the 1970s. Holder’s genius also extended to writing the book and lyrics for Verse of Fortune, a theatrical production about 19th century poet Charles Baudelaire, and designing costumes for such icons as Tina Turner, Bette Midler and Ann Reinking.
Cr: Adrian Flowers
“I felt deeply honored that Christian Holder entrusted me with his life story,” Berman said in her director’s statement. “I knew the film had to be guided by Christian’s own voice and perspective. His cabaret performances – those luminous, deeply personal, autobiographical works that he acted, sang, spoke, and brought to life became the natural spine of the film…It was essential to me that this film not only portray Christian as an artist and a man, but also clearly place him squarely within the charged political and social currents of his time. Art does not exist in isolation – it collides with injustice, intolerance, fear, and the need for change.”
Two free screenings of “Christian Holder: My Life Is Dance” will take place at the Chicago History Museum, 1601 N. Clark Street, the first at 5:30pm on October 30th, followed by another at 12:30pm on Saturday, October 31st. Berman will be in attendance for Q&As at both screenings, which are presented in partnership with The Joffrey Ballet, the Chicago International Film Festival, and the Gerald Arpino Foundation.
I am an Executive Producer and will participate in the Friday panel. I previously conducted the Q&A with Ms. Berman at Telluride for her film “Hugh Hefner’s After Dark: Speaking Out In America.”
RSVPs are requested for these screenings and can be made here.
- CIFF 2026: Let Us Through, Dear Ancestors, A Bit of Light and Love is the Monster (October 26, 2026)
Among the more notable titles at last year’s edition of the Chicago International Film Festival was Lav Diaz’s “Magellan”; with his latest project, “Let Us Through, Dear Ancestors,” he seems to be trying to make a film that works as a compromise between that film and his earlier projects. Here, he tells a story that, although not literally connected to “Magellan,” shares enough thematic commonality to serve as a sort of spiritual sequel while using a visual aesthetic similar to those earlier films.
The film is set in the Philippines in 1617, during the time in which the country was enduring forced colonization at the hands of Spain, represented here by Padre Enciso (Bart Guingona), a priest who has been charged with converting the indigenous population to Catholicism and establishing the Church as the dominant force of the land by any and all means, mostly by enslaving the men and using the women as sexual playthings.
For the past ten years, he has overseen the construction of a church in the middle of the jungle to symbolically cement the Church’s new position in this land. When a heavy load of valuable marble arrives, he orders his estranged son, Dungwen (Christian Bables), to lead a party of slaves to retrieve it and carry it through the jungle to the construction site.
The journey is especially risky because bandits led by the fearsome Baru-bari (Yul Servo) would kill them all to get their hands on the marble. While Dungwen and his group struggle with their task, Enciso tries to further solidify his hold on the people by imprisoning Babayeng Indimatandog (Isabel Sandoval), a beloved local faith healer and, by extension, a rebuke to everything Enciso represents.
The basic premise—a group of men struggling to haul delicate cargo over dangerous jungle terrain—will bring to mind Henri-Georges Clouzot’s 1953 existential action classic “The Wages of Fear” and/or William Friedkin’s 1977 remake “Sorcerer.” However, Diaz doesn’t milk the material for the usual thrills. Although he builds plenty of tension as Dungwen’s group makes their way through the jungle, where death lurks everywhere, he generally declines to show details when something does happen. Instead, he lingers on the aftermath of dead bodies and shattered spirits. Diaz never actually shows the church, whose construction drives the narrative, over the course of the film.
Some might see this as a cheat, but it is an approach that proves strangely effective for the story he is telling. What is most horrifying about the incursion of people like Enciso is not so much the specifics of the brutality that they imposed as much as the fact that it became so commonplace. Even Enciso, as monstrous as he is, isn’t the real problem—at any point in this story, he could die, and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. What he represents is the real problem. As we learn, it is not quite as easy to get rid of once it gets a toehold, either by the presence of a church that will theoretically outlive those charged with building it, or by the children born out of the sexual subjugation wrought by Enciso and others like him (including Dungwen).
“Let Us Through, Dear Ancestors” is long and sometimes exhausting in both its severe visual approach (as in many of Diaz’s films, the scenes play out in front of an unmoving camera) and the lack of any moments of catharsis, either for the characters on the screen or those of us in the audience. And yet, for those with the patience to sit through it, the film is a valuable work from one of the more interesting directors on the current international scene. It grapples with the horrors of colonialism and oppression in a quietly powerful manner, contemplating the lives lost as a result and how those wounds remain open even today.
Moving from the past to the immediate present, Ali Asgari’s drama “A Bit of Light” takes place in Tehran at the start of the current U.S.-Iran war, though the conflict’s realities force the production to move partway through to Turkey. It follows Arash (Missagh Zareh), a middle-aged doctor whose practice has just been shut down and whose license has been revoked by the authorities for giving medical attention to protestors.
Feeling that he can no longer live a fulfilling life under his current circumstances, he has decided that he is going to take his own life. Over the next 87 minutes, the film follows him as he wraps up his affairs and meets with his three younger siblings and, eventually, his mother to inform them of his decision and prepare them ahead of time.
Not surprisingly, his siblings don’t take the news well and try to talk him out of it, drawing on their own experiences. His brother, Maziar (Ramtin Daghigh), breaks down into sobs while at the same time imploring Arash to delve into the temptations of booze, drugs, and women as a better alternative to suicide. On the other hand, his younger sister, Mahsa (Sadaf Asgari), is a spiritually attuned yoga instructor who suggests that the very same demons and hurts driving him to this irrevocable act will continue to haunt him in the next world. By contrast, older sister Massi (Forouzan Jamshidnejad) offers more practical objections, undercut by what feels like preexisting issues between her and Arash.
As he heads to the meeting with his mother, his brother and sisters join him in his increasingly crowded car, and Arash has several other encounters. He attends a performance art piece about a mother and son bidding farewell to each other, where he is unexpectedly called on stage to participate in a visit with a badly wounded protester he has been surreptitiously treating. There, he struggles to tell the man’s frantic mother that he can’t treat him anymore. Inevitably, these encounters and discussions begin to affect Arash’s resolve, and by the time he arrives at his mother’s place, he is no longer quite sure what to do.
“A Bit of Light” could easily descend into a mass of gloppy sentiment and curdled whimsy along the lines of a typical Taika Waititi outing, and Waititi’s executive producer credit may strike some observers as a warning sign. Thankfully, it deftly balances family drama, dark humor, and anger at the U.S.-Iran conflict in a low-key but undeniably effective way. This is thanks in no small part to the incisive screenplay by Asgari and co-writer Shadmehr Rastin (who also wrote last year’s “It Was Just an Accident”), which knows how to make its points without clanging viewers over the head. The film also benefits from a stellar central performance by Zareh, best known for his brilliant turn as the terrifying father at the center of “The Seed of the Sacred Fig,” whose work here is a different tone and approach, though just as mesmerizing.
Another strong performance, this time from celebrated Chilean actress Pauline García, anchors Neto Villalobos’s family drama-tuned-thriller “Love is the Monster.” Set in a vaguely dystopian future in which all of the men are off fighting in some distant war, the well-off live in highly guarded communities, and there is the constant threat of children being kidnapped for ransom by striking workers stuck outside those gates.
One of them is Abuela (Paulina Garcia), a woman about 70 whose relationship with her daughter (Natalia Regidor) is one of benign estrangement. After messing up with her own child, Abuela is determined to make it up to her beloved granddaughter (Gloriana Vargas). Knowing that she doesn’t have that much longer to live, she is determined to spend as much time with her grandchild as possible. But more often than not, she messes things up (inadvertently locking the child in her car at one point), heightening tensions between her and her daughter. That said, Abuela will do anything for the child, and when the tensions outside the gates touch them personally, she shows just how far she’ll go to prove that love.
To be honest, Villalobos and Diego van der Laat’s screenplay feels a bit dodgy. It never quite weaves the family issues with the outside tensions in a fully satisfactory way, and once it shifts fully into thriller mode, it becomes much less interesting. However, Garcia’s performance holds our interest; she plays her character not as some kind of kooky old granny, but as a deeply flawed woman who knows she’s made big mistakes and is determined to make amends, no matter the cost.
At times, she pushes things too far, and Garcia doesn’t shy away from making the character as unsympathetic as she is meant to be—you always get the sense that the daughter’s estrangement from her is more than justified. At the same time, the scenes between her and her granddaughter are lovely, as she and Vargas demonstrate a convincing onscreen rapport.
“Love is the Monster” may be contrived in its attempts to show how genuine love can curdle into something darker and uglier. But Garcia’s performance makes it worth watching despite its flaws.
- CIFF 2026: Saints, A Common Story, The Riverbank (October 26, 2026)
The Chicago International Film Festival (CIFF) quietly keeps a finger on the pulse of the year’s buzziest titles, but its programmers also seek new voices at the local, national, and international levels. The New Directors Competition is specifically curated to bring films to U.S. audiences for the first time.
Of the 13 features in this year’s slate, more than half are women-centered, and several titles overlap with other festival categories that emphasize diverse voices. Passion shines through the imperfections, and these new directors and first-time filmmakers thread their stories together with the personal experience embedded in each work.
Being bad can feel so good. For some, a five-finger discount is a life motto. For Eulalia (Victoria Luengo), acquiring new things through unconventional means is a thrilling escape. In “Saints,” Lali drifts into a serious family situation and must return home to care for her mother (Ariadna Gil).
During their first hospital visit, Lali’s mother asks her to go to the chapel to pray. In this unfamiliar place, a surprise catharsis occurs; very early in the film, it establishes Lali’s personal frustration with things beyond her mother’s illness. Even more surprisingly, she dares to steal one of the divinity statues, perhaps one of the most sacrilegious acts one can commit. When she visits a local antiques dealer to pawn the piece, the people she meets completely change how she copes with what’s going on.
First-time director Mikel Gurrea has posed parallel stories, putting the main character at the center of both. The comedic concept of stealing and reselling religious relics balances the drama and grief that comes with aiding a sick parent. “I don’t know how to handle this,” she confesses to Rosario (Eulalia Ramon), the older woman she befriends as they dabble in rebellion together. Guerrea explores Lali’s feelings through confident visual and literal language. One scene that resonates with this dance is when Lali and crew walk through an active gymnasium, and she stops to practice on the beam, swaying back and forth to keep from falling. This balancing act is simple yet symbolic; what she carries doesn’t stifle her playful nature.
Framing “Saints” as a heist movie expands the genre’s possibilities, à la “Die Hard” as a Christmas movie. Unlike the “Ocean’s” franchise, “Saints” simmers with the emotional and ethical weight of what they’re doing. CIFF smartly, yet generously, places “Saints” in conversation with “La Chimera.” The percussion-forward, church-bell score builds tension, letting the audience know that time is of the essence.
As the title suggests, “A Common Story” is nothing new. A mother and father send their only daughter off to school, becoming empty nesters, and their bond is no longer the same. This narrative echoes “Marriage Story” in all its iterations, but first-time writer-director Anna Foglietta stumbles slightly in offering a fresh perspective.
“A Common Story” never shows its audience the lives of Erika (Alba Roherwacher) and Mauro (Guido Caprino) while their daughter, Irene, still lived with them, but when they return to their home and their routine, each scene feels stale, signaling that something (beyond their child) is missing. Foglietta’s screenplay is strengthened by Roherwacher’s and Caprino’s performances. Together, they bring a meditative yet temperamental persona to their characters. The story suggests that the cracks in their relationship come from their own personal shortcomings. By the end, the film names the problem so explicitly and repeats it so often that it feels unoriginal.
Every conversation goes a bit too far, digging a bit too deep; the story is strongest because of these cruel comments. The actor-turned-director dares to take chances with techniques that ultimately aren’t necessary. In building these disconnected dynamics, the camera also creates some confusion. Off-putting crash zooms and split-diopter segments are visually jarring and add little to the film’s visual language.
However, when the camera is stationary, it allows Foglietta’s direction to breathe. Paired with the cozy production design, the repeated images of people gathering around meals create a sense of closeness. Contradicting the care that comes with nourishing oneself alongside loved ones, these conversations create chaos and discomfort. Although the resolution leaves us a bit unconvinced, “A Common Story” lingers in its ambiguity.
Under the moon and streetlamp-lit mangroves, Recife (Caique Copque) encounters the mysterious Jeremias (Italo Martins). Their affair in the shadows glows with grit but never sees the light of day. Set in Brazil, “The Riverbank,” directed by the duo Matheus Farias and Enock Carvalho, is socially and politically grand while retaining a nighttime aesthetic that layers its themes.
As Recife visits Jeremias by the river, they’re illuminated and notably dewy; soon, a series of murders in the mangroves threatens their time together. Recife spends his day cleaning, and after some voyeuristic tendencies, he’s placed at a new job site: an Evangelical group set on helping others find God. Despite the drab, oppressive nature of his work, Recife finds relief with his roommates and friends, pursuing joy by dancing, partying, and looking out for one another. The way “The Riverbank” prioritizes this positivity is pivotal to the story’s overall resonance; in some ways, it reflects the resilience of queer pride, and in others, it meets the enemy with the same energy.
Bathed in the beauty of every blue hue, “The Riverbank” boldly plays with color and light to conjure spirituality from both sides of the spectrum. The mythical moments by the river and the mass baptism ceremonies reflect the power and palette of flowing water. Although it’s clear the film doesn’t side with the self-righteous religious group, this visual choice is intentional and adds eeriness.
- Busan International Film Festival 2026 Wrap-up (October 25, 2026)
The flickering lights that powered this year’s Busan International Film Festival have faded, but the memories of this 31st edition remain. Based in South Korea’s second-largest city, the festival boasts a wealth of films in its main competition and its bifurcated Vision section, along with some of the hottest titles from festivals ranging from Berlin to Cannes to Venice and everywhere in between. That doesn’t mention the talks with talented creatives and legendary auteurs or its thriving market. If it’s your first time attending, like it was for me, it’s an almost overwhelming experience that fills more hours than the day can hold.
Getting to the port city was a bit of a trek: I flew a little over 14 hours to Hong Kong and another 3 hours to Busan. I stayed in the Haeundae district, an area with bustling nightlife, colorful food stalls, packed bakeries, and exciting bars. That meant I needed to take the Busan Metro from Haeundae to Centum City, the festival’s home base.
The cinema center is a sprawling, silver, Frank Gehry-esque structure made up of three smaller, interconnected buildings (Cine Mountain, Biff Hill, and Double Cone) with screening rooms, masterclasses with the likes of Na Hong-jin and Lav Diaz, a dense library, concessions, activations, and more. A winding bridge binds them around a semi-open-air theater that boasts the world’s largest cantilever roof, whose underside is animated by LED lights featuring a flush of colors and even cartoon robots. Bustling pavilions surround the center, with food trucks selling Yakisoba, Takoyaki, Tteok-twi-sun, nachos, pizza, churros, and more.
The aforementioned semi-open-air BIFF theater hosts the festival’s glitzy opening ceremony. Everyone from Lee Chang-dong to Hirokazu Koreeda to Alfonso Cuarón to Ann Hui, who accepted the festival’s Camellia Award, and Michelle Yeoh, the recipient of the Asian Filmmaker of the Year Award.
A cloud did loom over the festive event: The talent behind Hur Jin-ho’s “The Assassin(s)” pulled out of the festival, citing safety concerns. In the weeks prior, conservative politicians scolded the film’s depiction of the 1974 assassination attempt on then Korean president Park Chung-hee. That attempted murder led to the death of first lady Yuk Young-soo. An investigation found that a lone killer, Mun Se-gwang, a Korean resident of Japan, carried out the attempt via instructions connected to North Korea.
The Jury President Zhang Yimou (“Hero”) commented on the controversy during the festival’s opening press conference. “Specifically regarding the film you mentioned, I have not seen it, though I have noticed there are some controversies. It depends on each individual’s feelings,” Zhang said. “Creation and historical truth: what does historical truth really mean? People write history, so is history itself truly real? Sometimes that in itself is a question mark.”
Zhang presided over a jury that included Choi Hee-seo, Bi Gan, Samal Yeslyamova, Kei Ishikawa, Jung Joo-ri, and Tran Thi Bich Ngoc. Their task was to choose from thirteen films in the main competition, with the winner receiving not only the jury prize but also automatic qualification to compete for a nomination in Best International Feature Film at the Academy Awards. Iranian auteur Majid Majidi’s “Midday Meal,” a lush socioeconomic and political film set in the country’s southern badlands, took that honor. Eddie Cahyono took home the Special Jury Prize for “Ibuku,” while Lee Yun Chan’s “To Be Ordinary” won Best Director. Zhou Xun won Best Actress for “The First Taste of Loneliness” (the film also won an Artistic Contribution mention for its sound), and Himeno Kashun won Best Supporting Actress for “Satoko Always.”
I saw the entire competition and can’t think of a single position I would change. It’s especially thrilling to see Majidi, whose film “Children of Heaven” became the first Iranian film nominated for Best International at the Oscars, still making towering, socially conscious work that busts the seams of the frame.
A jury composed of Rima Das, Shan Zuolong, and Shim Eun-kyung decided the New Currents prize, which honors directors on their first or second feature. They praised Shashank Walia’s rural queer political romance “Birds in the Dark,” and gave a special mention to Lim Hayeon’s coy metanarrative “Beach Fictions.”
The Vision section had two juries. Nina Kochelyaeva, Matthew Poon, and Lee Dongha served on the main jury, while Ma Xingxu, Teresa Vena, and Roh Chul-hwan led the FIPRESCI component. Together, they made inspired choices: Yang Bo’s “Agaar” won the BIFF Mecenat Award in the Asia section, and Yi Seungjun’s “Can I Talk to You?” won in the Korea vertical. A special mention went to Choi Se-dam’s “A Woman Dancing on the Waves.” Sakhya Byamba’s “Zogsool” took home the FIPRESCI prize.
This year also witnessed Busan’s highest attendance in eleven years. It drew over 200,000 people for screenings and more than 270,000 for talk sessions, stage greetings and events. You feel the numbers on the ground in the packed pavilions and at the festival’s other venues like the Lotte Cinema, KOFIC Theater, Sohyang Theatre Woori Bank Hall, Busan Community Media Center Open Hall, and the CGV Centum City—which sits atop Shinsegae Centum City, the world’s largest department store whose many floors are filled with luxury brands and a never-ending food court. Demand was so high that tickets were often hard to come by, requiring a bit of luck and diligence to build out one’s schedule.
I’ve been to many film festivals, and I’m often transfixed by the signature stinger that plays before each screening and the message it’s meant to impart. Locarno features a golden leopard stomping across the screen and letting out a defiant roar. Cannes shows red carpet-covered stairs rising from the water. Busan features a grayscale panorama of the sea on a cloudy night, a bird flying over the festival’s name. More than a sense of mystery, it creates a feeling of possibility.
As I walked around the festival, taking in new sights and intriguing movies, I couldn’t help but feel the excitement in the air as young cinephiles and fans sprinted across the pavilions to the BIFF theater to catch a glimpse of the latest star hitting the stage. I also found myself in communal spaces, eating lunch at picnic tables in the pavilion, and at night, large crowds walking back toward the trains, hoping, even anticipating, what the next day would bring.
Funnily enough, as a train approaches, a chime of gulls and waves plays over the station loudspeakers—reminding you this is a port city, and that possibility is only a few stops away.
