- TIFF 2025: Eternal Return, Nuremberg, Carolina Caroline (September 15, 2025)
I’m always delighted when films across various sections of a film festival end up tackling the same ideas but in different genres. There was a trio of basement-themed thrillers (“Good Boy,” “Bad Apples,” and, of course, “The Man in My Basement”) and no more than three films related to William Shakespeare’s Hamlet (two of which starred Joe Alwyn). By exploring similar subject matter through different genres it allows audiences to be impacted in different ways by the same idea. In this dispatch, films from Gala, Centrepiece, and Special Presentations all tackled how our pasts, if not properly reckoned with, can return to bedevil in pugnacious ways.
Director Yaniv Raz’s “Eternal Return” wasn’t the only high-concept romance film exploring what happens to the love of our lives once they pass, but it’s worth singling out as the only one that takes full advantage of Naomi Scott’s singing abilities and her ability to imbue a soulful melancholy into any line delivery. This is an old school fantasy film that doesn’t try to reshape the conventions of the genre it’s a part of, and that isn’t afraid to get saccharine to tug at the heartstrings. That works mainly in its favor as it’s obvious that talent behind and in front of the camera understands why this genre can be so successful.
Scott stars as Cass, who’s reeling from the death of her partner and bandmate, Julian (Jay Lycurgo), who perished after a horrific plane crash. She’s mired in grief until a chance encounter with cartographer Virgil (Kit Harington) and his mentor, Malcolm (Simon Callow), gives her hope she might be reunited with her lover. Virgil and Malcolm are convinced that they can craft a map of emotional landmarks of a person’s life; once someone steps back into an old location that holds significance, portals can open that allow people to re-experience formative moments for them. It’s a literal take on the ways stepping back into a place of significance can seemingly transport us to another place, and as Cass embarks with the two men on their journey, Virgil wrestles with his blossoming feelings for her.
It doesn’t always make for exciting viewing, as you can see the tropes this film will embody well before we reach the final destination, but if anything, narrative familiarity allows the character work to shine. It’s striking to see Harington play against type as an awkward and bookish map specialist. The charm is there, but his intensity is softened due to his quirky spirit, which makes for a great foil to Scott’s driven Cass. Callow also shines as a wingman to Virgil and brings a spirited “can-do” attitude that helps the audience buy into the believability of the gimmick the characters are chasing after. In contrast to Cass and Virgil, who are optimistic but cautious, broken by their pessimism around being able to dream, Malcolm brings a palpable zeal.
At its core, the film reminds us that “moving on doesn’t have to mean forgetting” and that the past, while important to remember, is something to make peace with instead of trying to recapitulate its greatest hits in the present. There’s a strength to this core message, which makes the film’s diversions into some questionable plot twists by the film’s end or certain erratic characterizations feel as if Raz was trying to overcompensate for a standard narrative. He should have had more faith that sometimes, a familiar story, well executed with charming stars, is all we need to come back home.
On a more serious note is James Vanderbilt’s “Nuremberg,” a film of prescient urgency and distinguished importance, but whose rote manner of delivery occasionally stifles its ambitions. Nonetheless, it’s an enlivening and effective courtroom drama, filled with performers who imbue their proceedings with gravitas and skill. Sometimes the strength of a film warrants a straightforward approach to how it tells its story, but given that this isn’t the first film made about what transpired (Stanley Kramer’s 1961 film also dramatized the trails “Judgement at Nuremberg” while Roger reviewed the documentary “Nuremberg: Its Lesson for Today”) it would have benefitted from an approach that didn’t just try to preach to its audience.
To Vanderbilt’s credit, rather than fall into the temptation to make what’s happened more melodramatic than needed, he places viewers right into the heart of darkness, trusting his actors to deliver the needed gravitas. When the film opens, it’s 1945. Hitler is dead, and in a strategic victory, the Allied Forces have captured the highest-ranking Nazi official left alive, Hermann Göring (Russell Crowe). While it would be far easier to simply hang Göring and the other imprisoned Nazi officials, U.S. Supreme Court Justice Robert H. Jackson (Michael Shannon, in one of his best performances, delivers stellar work here whose delicate gravitas anchors this film in its finest moments) wants to put Göring and his posse on trial. Jackson believes that by trying the Nazis on a global stage and framing their sentencing as a legal victory, it strips the glory that would come with an execution. In a moving monologue, Jackson articulates how, after Germany was forced to “crawl” after World War I, it gave the country an opportunity to grow not in strength but also in animosity. If they’re not beaten the right way, Jackson worries the world wouldn’t be able to beat them a “third time.”
As Jackson and his team, including the likes of lawyer David Maxwell Fyfe (Richard E. Grant, ever reliable in any film he’s in but his gravelly steeliness is especially welcome in this project) prepare for the trial, the army has psychiatrist Douglas Kelley (Rami Malek) speak with the prisoners before their trial to evaluate if they’re not only fit for trial, but also to get to the heart of Nazi psychology.
In this regard, the film is a series of conversations and debates, whether it’s in sessions, as we witness various permutations of the film’s all-star cast debate each other (Kelley debates Göring, Jackson grills Göring on the stand, etc.). It’s a showstopping showcase for all involved. Crowe gives a towering, subtly frightening performance as Göring. He’s dangerously charming, acting with humility and suave even while his egotistical nature is so baked in that he can’timagine a possibility where he’s convicted and on trial. There’s also a seductive layer to his confidence, as if he’sbeckoning all those cross-examining him to consider the appealing aspects of Nazi ideology. Malek does serviceable work as Kelley, as the character is meant to act as a vessel to Göring’s sentiments. Kelley’s work is two-fold as he hopes to eventually write a book about his experience, and his naked ambition for the possibility of fame clashes with the ethics of his vocation. He thinks he can dance with the devil because he has him on a leash, not realizing that he’s already been devoured by an adversary who’s thinking ten moves ahead.
During the film’s titular trials, Vanderbilt opts to include real footage of the horrors of the concentration camps. We become, for a moment, just like those in the trial room as we witness photo after photo and video after video of the truly barbarous and inhumane extermination enacted by the Nazis. It’s the most uncomfortable part of the film and one of the most moving, and while I see its necessity, it’s one of the few times where such unvarnished brutality is too content with recapitulation. As Jackson says during the trial, “what happened cannot bear to be ignored because it cannot bear to be repeated.” Vanderbilt’s film ensures that we can’t ignore what happened, but what’s missing is space for reflection on how what we see has, in fact, already happened again and again. There’s an urgent, timely, and powerful message “Nuremberg” offers; I just wonder how many more it will convince through its stilted approach who aren’t already on Jackson’s side.
Then there’s “Carolina Caroline,” a romantic crime thriller whose unique blend of sexiness and tragedy sizzles off the screen. Of the three projects featuring Samara Weaving that have been released this year, this is by far the strongest, as director Adam Carter Rehmeier and writer Tom Dean finally gift her material that takes full advantage of her ability to shift between vulnerability and vigor at a moment’s notice. Throw in a scene partner like Kyle Gallner and a smooth-as-whiskey score from Christopher Bear, and it all makes “Carolina Caroline” a film that sucker punches you from its first frame.
When we meet the titular Caroline, she embodies the restlessness of feeling obligated to one’s hometown while desiring to escape it. While caring for her single father (Jon Gries), she finds her ticket to freedom in Kyle Gallner’s Oliver. The two strike up a romance as Oliver teaches her his criminal ways; as their love crescendos, so does the scale of their crimes.
“Carolina Caroline” is full of stick-ups, shoot-outs, and heists, but Dean’s script and Rehmeier’s direction give us characters we care about. At the emotional center of Caroline is her reeling with abandonment by her mother, and the film calls into question the health of her trying to fill that void through seeking violence and thrills. There’s a grainy, hand-held camera aesthetic as the film progresses, almost as if Oliver and Caroline are recording home videos of their crimes to pass on to family members later. We know watching that as much as Caroline and Oliver are riding high on their robberies, the crash has to come somehow, and there’s a skittish tension as we wait for their downfall to come.
Weaving dazzles in one particular sequence, where, after someone is killed, Caroline realizes the terrifying endgame of the life of crime she’s embarked on. She’s reached the point of no return, and that disillusionment is harrowing and disquieting. It’s these moments of character development amidst the spectacle that make “Carolina Caroline” a rip-roaring, tragic, joyride.
- Chloe Zhao’s “Hamnet” Wins the TIFF People’s Choice Award (September 14, 2025)
From the official press release from the Toronto International Film Festival, with links to our coverage of the winning films, when available.
PEOPLE’S CHOICE AWARDS PRESENTED BY ROGERS
The 48th edition of TIFF’s People’s Choice Awards, presented by Rogers, presents the audience’s top titles at the Festival as voted by the viewing public. All feature films and Primetime series in TIFF’s Official Selection are eligible.
People’s Choice Award presented by Rogers: Hamnet, dir. Chloé Zhao
First runner-up: Frankenstein, dir. Guillermo del Toro
Second runner-up: Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery, dir. Rian Johnson
International People’s Choice Award presented by Rogers: No Other Choice, dir. Park Chan-wook
First runner-up: Sentimental Value, dir. Joachim Trier
Second runner-up: Homebound, dir. Neeraj Ghaywan
People’s Choice Documentary Award presented by Rogers: The Road Between Us: The Ultimate Rescue, dir. Barry Avrich
First runner-up: EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert, dir. Baz Luhrmann
Second runner-up: You Had to Be There: How the Toronto Godspell Ignited the Comedy Revolution…, dir. Nick Davis
People’s Choice Midnight Madness Award presented by Rogers: Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie, dir. Matt Johnson
First runner-up: Obsession, dir. Curry Barker
Second runner-up: The Furious, dir. Kenji Tanigaki
SHORT CUTS AWARDS
Short Cuts Awards are presented to the Best International Short Film, Best Canadian Short Film, and Best Animated Short Film, as awarded by the Short Cuts jury. Each of the three winning films will receive a bursary of $10,000 CAD. The 2025 jurors for the Short Cuts Awards are Ashley Iris Gill, Marcel Jean, and Connor Jessup.
Short Cuts Award for Best International Short Film:
Talk Me, dir. Joecar Hanna | Spain/USA
Short Cuts jury’s statement: “This film sparked one of the most interesting conversations around the jury table. Talk Me is bold in its portrayal of intimacy and the universal longing for connection. The characters fit so naturally into the film’s unique, evocative world that everything feels normal very quickly. Its cinematography is beautiful, delicate yet deliberate, each frame carefully crafted to draw us deeper into the story. By allowing the visuals to lead, the film creates an immersive experience of vulnerability and honesty. For its courage, craft, and sensitivity, the jury presents the Short Cuts Award for Best International Short Film to Joecar Hanna’s Talk Me.”
Honourable Mention:
Agapito, dirs. Arvin Belarmino & Kyla Danelle Romero | Philippines
Short Cuts jury’s statement: “For its formal precision, command of a delicate tone, poetic awareness of space and movement, and deeply personal reflections on family, the jury is thrilled to present an Honourable Mention to Arvin Belarmino and Kyla Danelle Romero’s remarkable Agapito. The jury also wants to acknowledge the brilliantly nuanced and committed performances of the film’s young cast.”
Short Cuts Award for Best Canadian Short Film:
The Girl Who Cried Pearls, dirs. Chris Lavis & Maciek Szczerbowski | Canada
Short Cuts jury’s statement: “In addition to highlighting the film’s daring technical achievement and sumptuous artistic direction, the jury also wants to recognize a fable about greed and the capacity of artists to create a fantastic world by the power of their narrative voice. The Short Cuts Award for Best Canadian Short Film goes to Chris Lavis and Maciek Szczerbowski for The Girl Who Cried Pearls.”
Honourable Mention:
A Soft Touch, dir. Heather Young
Short Cuts jury’s statement: “A Soft Touch really pierced our hearts. It finds a way to transform routine, everyday moments into a quietly devastating portrait of neglect and resilience. With searing precision and simplicity, the film illuminates how easily older folks can be overlooked, and in doing so, demands our attention, empathy, and accountability. The jury awards an Honourable Mention to Heather Young’s A Soft Touch.”
Short Cuts Award for Best Animated Short Film:
To the Woods, dir. Agnès Patron | France
Short Cuts jury’s statement: “This wordless journey into the bond between two siblings becomes a transcendent meditation on the mysteries of time and memory, love and loss, connection and transformation. Animated with lush, cosmic beauty and vibrating with tenderness and insight, the film plunges its viewer into deep, deep feeling. For its overwhelming artistry, luminous spirit, and soul-expanding sense of mystery, the jury presents the Short Cuts Award for Best Animated Short Film to Agnès Patron’s To the Woods. The jury also wants to note the film’s jaw-dropping sound design and the work of composer Pierre Oberkampf, whose score ranks among the best film music of recent years.”
FIPRESCI PRIZE
The FIPRESCI jury is awarding the International Critics Prize, dedicated to emerging filmmakers, to a debut feature film having its World Premiere in TIFF’s Discovery or Centrepiece programmes. The 2025 FIPRESCI jury members are: Katharina Dockhorn (Germany), Francisco Ferreira (Portugal), Jean-Philippe Guerand (France), Andy Hazel (Australia), and Justine Smith (Canada).
FIPRESCI Prize:
Forastera, dir. Lucía Aleñar Iglesias | Spain/Italy/Sweden
FIPRESCI jury’s statement: “Spanish cinema, long shaped by the exuberance of Pedro Almodóvar, has found a new distinctive voice in Lucía Aleñar Iglesias. Set on sun-drenched Mallorca, Forastera follows 16-year-old Cata, whose carefree family holiday is brought to a halt by the death of her grandmother. In her grief, the teenager takes on the older woman’s persona — wearing her clothes, adopting her gestures and silences. Aleñar Iglesias directs with restraint and precision, finding power in understatement. Performances from newcomer Zoe Stein and veteran Lluís Homar anchor the film’s dreamlike rhythms. What might sound slight becomes luminous: a meditation on an adolescent’s first encounter with death, and a ghost story about how the past lingers in the present. Forastera is a quietly assured debut, simple yet transformative, marking Aleñar Iglesias as a filmmaker the FIPRESCI jury would like to bet on.”
NETPAC AWARD
Presented by the Network for the Promotion of Asian Pacific Cinema, the NETPAC Award recognizes films specifically from the Asian and Pacific regions. The jury consists of three international community members selected by TIFF and NETPAC, who award the prize to the best Asian film by a first or second-time feature director. The 2025 NETPAC jury members are Dina Iordanova, Helen Lee, and Keoprasith Souvannavong, who is serving as Jury Chair.
NETPAC Award:
In Search of The Sky (Vimukt), dir. Jitank Singh Gurjar | India
NETPAC jury’s statement: “For offering an indelible tale of tolerance, desperation and faith, conveyed through a unique lens of realism and poetics, elevated by striking performances. In Search of The Sky (Vimukt) is a truly independent achievement by Indian filmmaker Jitank Singh Gurjar. The film transports the audience to rural central India, where an impoverished elderly couple contends with their cognitively challenged adult son and the villagers who threaten their existence. A beacon of hope comes in the form of the Maha Kumbh Mela, a pilgrimage to the world’s largest spiritual gathering where they seek renewal and new possibilities of life.”
BEST CANADIAN DISCOVERY AWARD
The Best Canadian Discovery Award celebrates works of emerging filmmakers who contribute to enriching the Canadian film landscape. All Canadian first or second feature films in Official Selection are eligible for this award. The winner will receive a cash prize of $10,000 CAD.
Jury members presiding over both the Best Canadian Discovery Award and Best Canadian Feature Film Award are: Jennifer Baichwal, Sophie Jarvis, and R.T. Thorne:
“Thirty-five films in 10 days gives you some perspective on the cinematic zeitgeist in our country. As a jury, we were particularly impressed by the wonderful variety, breadth, and strength of storytelling in the Indigenous films supported by the Indigenous Screen Office. This was a powerful indicator of the future of cinema in this country, and we look forward to seeing more in the future.”
Best Canadian Discovery Award:
Blue Heron, dir. Sophy Romvari | Canada
Jury’s statement: “Blue Heron, written and directed by Sophy Romvari, is a film centered on a family struggling with a troubling personal crisis, where all elements — script, direction, cinematography, performance and editing — unite to powerfully transcend the sum of their parts. The complexity of story, perspective, and emotion is conveyed with understated simplicity — nothing is superfluous — and the transitions between real and imagined, past and present, are seamless, as well as heartbreaking. Blue Heron is a stunning and assured feature debut about love, grief, memory, and the yearning to go back to the moment before everything changed.”
Honourable Mention:
100 Sunset, dir. Kunsang Kyirong | Canada
Jury’s statement: “We as a jury were struck by the remarkable world-building in 100 Sunset, Kunsang Kyirong’s directorial debut. She invites us into the apartment complex that is home to members of the Tibetan immigrant community in Toronto, where we experience the gossip, rivalries, and intrigues through the eyes of an observant young thief who rarely speaks but seems to register everything. The growing friendship between the thief and a newly arrived young wife is a study in seeing and being seen, and the interplay of an old DV camera perspective takes us along on their journey of expanding horizons.”
BEST CANADIAN FEATURE FILM AWARD
The Best Canadian Feature Film Award honours the unique craft and storytelling in Canadian cinema. All Canadian feature films in Official Selection — excluding first or second features — are considered for the award. The winning filmmaker will receive a $10,000 CAD cash prize.
Best Canadian Feature Film Award:
Uiksaringitara (Wrong Husband), dir. Zacharias Kunuk | Canada
Jury’s statement: “Wrong Husband, directed by Zacharias Kunuk, is a love story from thousands of years ago that blends the epic and intimate and immerses viewers in a mesmerizing and unique cinematic experience. The supernatural is ever-present and matter of fact alongside exquisite details of the daily rhythms of ancient Inuit life. The humour, gentleness and stoicism in the characters’ interactions is deeply moving, and the landscape is both a sublime setting and a character in itself. This is a beautiful and not unexpected achievement from a master storyteller.”
Honourable Mention:
There Are No Words, dir. Min Sook Lee | Canada
Jury’s statement: “An Honourable Mention goes to There Are No Words, written and directed by veteran documentarian Min Sook Lee. This film is a profound and devastating story of unspeakable loss; the shifting shape and mingling of individual and collective memory; the sometimes brutal immigrant experience; and how past violent personal and political realities can continue to define the identity of a family.”
PLATFORM AWARD
Marking the tenth anniversary of the Festival’s competitive section, Platform champions bold directorial vision and distinctive storytelling on the world stage. The Platform Award is a prize of $20,000 CAD given to the best film in the programme, selected by an in-person international jury: Carlos Marqués-Marcet (Jury Chair), Marianne Jean-Baptiste, and Chloé Robichaud.
Platform Award:
To The Victory!, dir. Valentyn Vasyanovych | Ukraine/Lithuania
Platform jury’s statement: “To The Victory! is the unanimous choice for this year’s Platform Award amongst a very strong selection. Bringing cinematic language to its roots and, at the same time, masterfully playing with audience expectations, this film dismantles convention to reveal deeply resonant universal emotions. Director Valentyn Vasyanovych has choreographed a mise-en-scène rendered with masterful precision, arriving at the kind of refined simplicity that can only be achieved with artistic maturity and bold vision. He has deftly used comedy to address a very complicated and complex situation into a work that is both audacious and profoundly beautiful. Ultimately, the film returns us to the very essence of cinema — reminding us why we are compelled to tell stories on film, and why we continue to do so.”
Honourable Mention:
Hen, dir. György Pálfi | Germany/Greece/Hungary
Platform jury’s statement: “The jury also wishes to recognize the extraordinary artistry of director György Pálfi, whose work exemplifies boldness, intelligence, and creative ingenuity. Blending cinematic genres in an inventive and seamless manner, Hen demonstrates remarkable precision in its camera movement and shot composition, resulting in an exceptionally effective narrative. György’s unwavering commitment to exploring humanity through the perspective of the hen yields a singularly original vision — a work of stunning originality, unlike anything else in contemporary cinema.”
Awards descriptions including eligibility can be found here: tiff.net/awards. Information on the People’s Choice Award voting process can be found here: tiff.net/vote.
Last Sunday, TIFF hosted its seventh annual TIFF Tribute Awards, in partnership with Rolex. Photos of the event can be found here.
The 50th Toronto International Film Festival, presented by Rogers, concludes today. The 51st edition of the Festival will take place September 10–20, 2026.
- TIFF 2025: Erupcja, Junk World, The Napa Boys (September 14, 2025)
The titles that usually break out of TIFF’s Midnight Madness program are often characterized by audacious, crowd-pleasing spectacle (consider the uproarious acclaim for “The Furious”). I’ve always been drawn to the more unconventional midnighters; those stories that may not boast the action choreography and visceral thrills of their louder siblings, but remain intriguingly disquieting. This dispatch covers two Midnighters here that fit that bill, plus another lo-fi cut featuring a brat-ty pop star that feels right at home with these strange delights.
Pete Oh’s “Erupcja” arrived with considerable fanfare and built-in hype thanks to the casting of pop star Charli XCX. It is a strong showcase for the singer, who radiates a restrained confidence. She stars as Bethany, a woman who has arrived in Warsaw with her boyfriend, Rob (Will Madden). Bethany has the correct suspicion that Rob is going to try to propose to her, so she abandons the carefully crafted plans he’s laid out and seeks the company of her longtime friend, Nel (Lena Góra).
Their reunion is quite literally explosive; as Bethany recounts, every time the two are in the physical proximity of each other, a volcano erupts (some of their greatest hits include eruptions in Iceland, Chile, Ecuador, and the Philippines). Rob later informs that Mount Etna erupted, which confirms the trend. Nel and Bethany have fallen out of love, with Nel in particular disenchanted by Bethany’s propensity to appear and disappear at her whim, but the temptation to reconnect after so much lost time is irresistible to them both.
Whether these eruptions are purely coincidental or there’s a mythological buttress to their relationship isn’t the core mystery of Ohs’ film; it isn’t the most important mystery to solve in Oh’s film. It’s very much a “hangout” movie, but the simplicity of its breezy, no frills story acts as a playground for Ohs’ actors to meditate on how elemental emotions like love, and the ways the universe, if it had a voice, might reject our self-loathing and offer grace instead. This is a project that focuses on the ways natural disasters–those unexplainable forces–can remind us of our finitude, and remind us that with our limited time on Earth, we should try our best to make amends with the people who’ve meant the most to us.
This idea of characters flitting between disconnection and connection is beautifully manifested in the filmmaking itself; Ohs shoots the film with lots of intimate handheld camera angles; it often feels like we’re chasing after Nel or Bethany, who are always out of our reach. This continuous sense of playfulness and mix between the profound and the everyday that makes “Erupcja” so quietly incendiary. Ohs, also cleverly intercuts a particularly emotional monologue with an establishing shot of Warsaw or a volcano. It’s as if to say that our personal lives are so wrapped up in the larger story of nature that those two temperaments can affect the other.
On the complete opposite end of restraint is director and stop-motion trailblazer Takahide Hori’s “Junk World.” It’s a prequel set more than a millennium before Hori’s film “Junk Head,” and is by all accounts, one of the most insane films I’ve ever seen. Overkill means little, however, if there isn’t anything to anchor the madness, and as it stands, despite some truly riveting set pieces and intriguing ideas, it all just feels like a sizzle reel for work that could have been in service of a better, less convoluted story.
But still, the world that Hori has crafted here is breathtaking. It would have been forgivable and understandable if, to save on time and money, Hori had made the apocalyptic hellscape depicted simplistic or too similar to our own. It feels like he took the film as a challenge to see how much of the familiar he could render uncanny. He remixes and fleshes out every detail of this strange, violent world: monstrous, four legged creatures stalk the Earth, creepy parasites slither across the ground and are quickly stomped asunder by combat boots, a character pulls the trigger on a revolver which discharges a sword blade, a crashed train’s broken cars are sprawled like a mechanical, open hand, phallic shaped fungi adorn dinner plates … the list of striking images keeps going.
All these accoutrements serve as a way to tell a larger story: that of humans and Mulligans (artificial life forms that were created to work for humans but, upon gaining consciousness, rebelled against humanity). The two factions are in a ceasefire, but after an anomaly in the underground city of Kaapvaal, a team of humans and Mulligans has to work together to investigate it. Time travel, dimensional distortions, cults, cannibalism, and any other trope of the dystopian genre manage to find their way into the film.
Split into three acts, the film is a bit too convoluted to sink your teeth into, but Hori keeps it moving at a brisk pace due to its impressive fight scenes. There was only a team of six who worked on this, and it’s fascinating to see the ambition of his set pieces, whether a mech-suited warrior is firing missiles into the mouth of a monster, or BDSM wearing Mulligans are fighting with spears. The beauty of something like stop motion is that you can tell the labor of care that goes into making it; in every eccentric element of “Junk World,” you can feel Hori and his team’s love for intimate spectacle.
Watching “The Napa Boys” is the equivalent of witnessing a trio having a conversation, but two members suddenly decide to start cracking inside jokes. It can be novel for a while, but such isolation can quickly sour into resentment due to exclusion. If you’re going to ask your audiences to go on an esoteric journey with you, it’s important to make the story you tell compelling or worth their trust, and at every turn, Nick Corirossi keeps viewers farther away, content with leaving us on the outskirts rather than giving us an entry point for accessibility.
It’s unfortunate because the bones of Corirossi’s story make for an ingenious starting point. “The Napa Boys” is positioned as the fourth installment of a long running franchise (the title card confirms as such, officially revealing itself as “The Napa Boys 4: The Sommelier’s Amulet.”) The humor comes from the fact that we’ve never met any of these characters before and yet are expected to have buy into their stories, struggles, and relationships. There’s some clever commentary here about some of the “homework” that larger IP franchises make their viewers have to consume to stay up to date; “The Napa Boys” doubles down on it all by throwing them in the deep end of a franchise that never existed until this installment.
It’s evident that the film is spoofing not just Hollywood franchise filmmaking, in the same vein of comedies like “Wet Hot American Summer,” and the alt-comedians that Corirossi has enlisted here are in tune with the film’s faddish wavelength. The titular boys (Armen Weitzman, Corirossi, Nelson Franklin, and Jamar Neighbors) along with a newcomer, Puck (Sarah Ramos) have an effortless chemistry that feels as if they’ve truly known each other for years and I found even the moments where they spoke in ways I didn’t understand to be heartwarming if only because the distance I felt was indicative of how well they know each other.
I could try to explain the contours of the plot, but once again, the very premise of Corirossi’s story challenges the importance of a film even needing one; it’s almost as if he and his crew are trying to see how long they can keep a story without coherence. The Napa Boys unite to help their friend and wine maker Mitch (Mike Mitchell) win something called “The Greatest Grape” competition, but discover there are more mysterious forces at play due to an entity known as the “Sommelier.” Nothing is explained, and information and jokes are thrown at you at dizzying speed (fans of everything from “Sideways” to “Megalopolis” to “The Fabelmans” will feel vindication here). All the while, cinematographer Markus Mentzer employs a mix of jarring crash zooms and close-ups to give the sense that we should all be finding this funny.
This is less of a film, more of a smorgasbord of insular wisecracks upheld by crass humor and full-throated yelling. What “The Napa Boys” does have going for it is that while watching it, you’re likely to be reminded of life’s finitude. As the minutes slog along, it will likely galvanize you to seek out better films and will help you realize your limited time is too precious to squander on projects like this.
- TIFF 2025: Blue Heron, Amoeba, Meadowlarks (September 14, 2025)
Sophy Romvari’s “Blue Heron” has been one of the breakout critical darlings of the fest circuit, premiering at Locarno to raves before traveling to TIFF for more of the same. At first, her debut feature feels a bit familiar, a memory piece about a troubled brother that the one remembering couldn’t save, but Romvari pivots halfway through into something more ambitious and emotionally devastating. Her film becomes a document of frustration as much as trauma, a reflection of the limitations of memory, filmmaking, and art to deal with the messy nature of human beings. It’s a major film, one of the best of 2025, and an announcement of the deep talent of its writer/director.
Romvari opens her film with a family of six moving to a new home in Vancouver. At first, it’s a little difficult to pick out from where the drama will emerge as we maintain the POV of one of the daughters, Sasha, overhearing difficult conversations between mom and dad, many of them about her older brother Jeremy. He lies on the front porch doing nothing; he wanders away from a family day the beach, terrifying everyone by his disappearance; he gets on the roof of the new home. His erratic behavior becomes harder and harder to predict, understand, or control.
The version of “Blue Heron” that’s merely a memory piece about a woman remembering her troubled brother—and how much that relationship forged and defined her family—would be powerful enough. In this first half, Romvari proves herself a striking visual artist, working with the spectacular cinematographer Maya Bankovic to film scenes of troubled domesticity from the distance of a child or even an observer outside the family. The camera peers through trees or windows, never quite framing the image like a melodrama would, but shaping the pain of this family through the lens of memory.
“Blue Heron” then jumps forward to an adult Sasha, a filmmaker who wants to make a movie about her brother. Blending documentary filmmaking into the drama, Romvari’s vision gains remarkable emotional momentum. It becomes about the function of art, and how artists burn the images that have haunted them onto celluloid. The lines blur between non-fiction and fiction, finding more truth in the latter through the process. Romvari intertwines them again in final scenes that echo with so much truth that I felt them in my heart. I didn’t see the reportedly devastating “Hamnet” yet, but this is easily the most moving film of the dozens I saw at TIFF. Maybe even the entire year.
A very different coming-of-age story unfolds in Siyou Tan’s effective “Amoeba,” a tale of youthful rebellion that the director reportedly thinks she’ll probably never be able to play in Singapore. The draw of this “girl gang” movie is the girls themselves, a wonderfully charming quartet, well-directed by Tan to feel both specific and relatable at the same time. In particular, Ranice Tay feels like a potential star, someone who is so instantly charming that it’s easy to root for her to find a way to express herself in a part of the world where that’s not really allowed.
She plays Choo Xin Yu, a 16-year-old who enrolls in an all-girls school in Singapore, a place with ridiculous restrictions on what the students and say or do. Even chewing gum is against the rules. She finds three quick friends who share her growing sense of rebellion, filming themselves acting out on campus and at home. She also happens to think she’s being haunted, allowing for more video hijinks, and the sense that these young women are being impacted by forces they cannot see or control.
“Girl gang” movies set in parts of the world where girls aren’t allowed to be girls can often feel like melodrama or even exploitation, but “Amoeba” avoids these traps by staying true to its protagonists. It’s a subtly playful film, a movie that’s both about the individual and the community, and how it can be difficult for anyone, especially a teenager, to find a way to balance the two.
Finally, there’s Tasha Hubbard’s well-intentioned but flat “Meadowlarks,” a movie with an important subject about which more people should know, but you’d be better off watching a documentary than this Hallmark Movie level melodrama.
In fact, Hubbard adapts her documentary “Birth of a Family” to tell the story of four siblings who were separated during “The Sixties Scoop” a half-century ago, reunited for a week in Banff. In the ‘60s, the Canadian government kidnapped Indigenous children from their homes, creating fractures through the entire community. Imagine how the trauma from that would be reflected in the dynamic between four people who understand it more than an outsider possibly could.
The great Michael Greyeyes does his best to deepen shallow dialogue, but Hubbard too often gives her characters things to say that sound like screenwriting instead of actual people. It’s one of those dramas in which everyone says what they think, what they want, and what they’ve been through with the eloquence of a TV movie writer instead of the fumbling stammering of a real person. It’s telling that all four protagonists sound so similar, mouthpieces of a writer who worked from theme instead of character. She’s made a film that teaches about an important chapter in Canadian history without truthfully showing us its impact.
- TIFF 2025: Scarlet, Arco, Little Amélie or the Character of Rain (September 14, 2025)
One of the most buzzed titles of last year’s festival circuit was “Flow,” which would go on to win the Oscar for Best Animated Feature film. Given the relatively shallow offerings from the major studios this year (sorry “Elio” fans), it seems very possible that this year’s winner could also come from the fest circuit—either that or the phenomenon that is “KPop Demon Hunters”. It honestly could be one of the three international productions in this dispatch, all with their own notable qualities, although I would argue one works notably better than the others.
The highest profile of the bunch probably belongs to Mamoru Hosoda’s “Scarlet,” the latest from the beloved director of “Belle,” “Wolf Children,” “Summer Wars,” and many more. His 2018 film “Mirai” was a surprising Oscar nominee, and his latest is another lavish production, itself a part of a bizarre trend this year in that William Shakespeare’s Hamlet was reflected in three productions: a modern adaptation starring Riz Ahmed, Chloe Zhao’s “Hamnet,” and this gender-swapped fantasy version of the tale. Hosoda kind of loses his way in a dragging mid-section after a vibrant opening act, but he eventually gets to some of the strongest imagery of his career in what becomes a study of forgiveness vs. vengeance.
The set-up is familiar to the source: A child’s father is murdered by her uncle Claudius. As anyone who saw what Hosoda did to a legend with “Belle” might expect, the artist takes a sharp turn after that set-up. What if Claudius got the upper hand and poisoned Hamlet/Scarlet before he could meet his own fate?
Scarlet ends up in a sort of purgatory, racing against time to find her way back to Claudius as she gets her vengeance on the men who held the sword that killed her father. In this afterlife, she meets a medic named Hijiri, someone who appears to have met Scarlet across time and space after a stabbing in the streets of Japan in modern day. Hijiri and Scarlet do a lot of talking about where they are, what they need to do, and what they’re feeling, and the gray landscape of Hosoda’s vision makes the dull, on-the-nose dialogue a bit grating.
However, “Scarlet” gets someplace mesmerizing when its heroine finally reaches her goal and starts to question what it’s all worth and what she really wants. There’s one image in particular as Claudius begs for the glory that he doesn’t deserve that’s among the animator’s best. Even if “Scarlet” ends up feeling like minor Hosoda, it’s still going to be major for his loyal fans.
Ugo Bienvenu may be a French animator, but he clearly draws inspiration from people like Hosoda, and, even more so, the artisans of Studio Ghibli. Bienvenu’s “Arco” premiered at Cannes to strong buzz and has now been given an English dub that includes voice work by Natalie Portman, Mark Ruffalo, Andy Samberg, Flea, and more. It blatantly cribs from the playbook of Hayao Miyazaki in its blend of fantasy, sci-fi, and the issues of a dying planet, but I found it captivating, a reminder that even if Master Miyazaki is near the end of his career, his influence will ripple through the form for generations.
Arco is a boy who comes from a future so far away that time travel has been developed, using rainbows to travel back hundreds of years (a very early Ghibli concept if I’ve ever heard one). In an early scene, he expresses jealousy that his parents get to see what dinosaurs actually looked like—he’s only 10 and you have to be 12 to ride the rainbow—and so he decides to take a journey on his own, landing in 2075, where Bienvenu’s real vision of the future unfolds. In a world that looks a little more like our own, three figures try to chase down Arco, while he befriends a lonely girl whose parents appear only as holograms as she’s cared for more by the family robot.
When filmmakers attempt to replicate Ghibli, they often come off leaden and overwritten—“Mononoke” made too many think that Hayao never had a sense of humor—so it’s nice to see a filmmaker who values whimsy as much as message. “Arco” is a family adventure film, a story of two kids who are there for each other in a way that the grown-ups around them never were. It’s a bit thin on plot, but, like “Scarlet,” it lands in a moving place, a reminder of what really matters now, then, and many years into the future: Our connections to each other and the planet.
Finally, there’s the sweet “Little Amélie or The Character of Rain,” based on the novel by Amélie Nothomb about a three-year-old who basically develops the language and perspective of someone much older. Apparently based on a Japanese belief that children are like gods at this age, it’s a dizzying blend of cultures and mythology. When you’re three, you think you’re the center of the universe. What if you are?
The cross-culture perspective of an eloquent Belgian girl living in Japan is the most interesting thing about this poetic journey. Even the title references this blend with the Japanese character for Amélie also meaning rain. Again, Miyazaki’s child protagonists, along with more messages about our connection to the planet, feel like inspirations, but this one looks more like French painters than the Ghibli aesthetic.
The visuals amplify the themes of wonder at the natural world around Amélie in a way that’s at first captivating but gets a bit repetitive as Nothomb’s film feels slighter than the other two in this dispatch. “Little Amélie” is undeniably sweet in a way that makes it hard to dislike, but it’s also a reminder that the manner in which Miyazaki gives children agency in a way that feels true can be hard to replicate.
