Great Movies
There’s usually a sizable chunk of the Sundance lineup composed of weepy, crowd-pleasing dramedies that are entertaining in the moment but are, with time, easily forgettable. All three of the films in this dispatch, selections from the Premieres section, concern forlorn protagonists approaching major obstacles toward life-affirming ends. It’s a structure that offers few rewards, except when it hits. Then you’re a crying mess.
The family at the heart of Kelly O'Sullivan and Alex Thompson’s “Ghostlight,” as one character says, has a lot on their plate. Because of her violent outbursts, Daisy (Katherine Mallen Kupferer), is nearing expulsion from school. Her parents are drifting apart as they approach depositions for a lawsuit connected to the tragedy that has upended their lives. A salt of the earth construction worker, Dan (Keith Kupferer) doesn’t believe in therapy or talking through his feelings. But he finds an outlet when an irascible Rita (Dolly de Leon) approaches him to be in a community theater production of Romeo and Juliet, where he learns to harness his emotions and confront a personal loss he still doesn’t understand.
“Ghostlight” is indeed about grief. But not the buzzy kind, the kind that’s easy to define and simple to manage. Rather the kind that invades every fiber of your soul, whether at work, at school, in bed, or in your dreams—in symptoms that could be so much easier to eradicate if they weren’t the only crutches that could get you through your day. The wonder of O’Sullivan’s aching script is how she imbues each character with a distinct sense of loss. That rich inner life grants the film a register that never slips into cloying.
The deep ensemble is equally adept at making each character an organic, rich person. De Leon is adorably cantankerous. Mallen is quiet and perceptive as a mother capable of hiding her family’s cracks, if only to keep on going. The younger Kupferer balances angsty rage and full-throated distress with aplomb. But it’s the elder Kupferer (all three actors are part of the same family) who gives an immeasurable performance that may be the toast of Sundance. As Dan, Kupferer is always slouched, as though his body is barely holding his character’s burden. His stance is wide; his hands are rigid at his side. These are the tools, along with full faculties of a face that is always in the middle of wincing, that allows Kupferer to shift from affable teddy bear to an overwhelmed powder keg of powerful emotion.
In a film about performance (both the legal and creative kind), the run up to showtime is spry and spontaneous: The intimately staged theater becomes a communal space where demons are exorcized and new bonds are formed. The Romeo and Juliet performance, eloquently composed and cheekily costumed, is a well-earned tear-jerker, landing on a solemn repose that speaks to O'Sullivan and Thompson’s confidence in their audience. “Ghostlight” is a major step forward for the pair, existing as an open-hearted meditation that is as gentle as it is extraordinary.
Following his debut “The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind,” actor-turned-director Chiwetel Ejiofor’s latest film, “Rob Peace” is a languid, cliched work that makes you seriously question his comfort behind the camera. Though I’m hesitant to name the source material, if only because you’ll probably guess the arc of the film from its title, Ejiofor has adapted this film from Jeff Hobbs’ nonfiction work The Short and Tragic Life of Robert Peace—a book taken by Peace’s real-life rise from East Orange, New Jersey to the hallowed halls of Yale University.
Despite his brilliance, Peace (Jay Will) has never known an easy life: When he was a child his father Skeet (Ejiofor), who professed his innocence to authorities, was prosecuted for gunning down two women, and sentenced to life in prison. The valorous Peace makes it his mission to not only please his mother by getting a PhD, but also to revitalize his neighborhood and clear his father’s name. It’s a lot put on one’s man’s plate, and the burden, in the name of loyalty to one’s community and kin, causes the selfless Peace to make decisions that put his future in jeopardy.
Similar to another film in this dispatch, Ejiofor takes a conventional approach to Peace’s life: There are overcooked, melodramatic speeches by Ejiofor, a trite voiceover by Will to carry viewers into Peace’s mindset, and a timeline that’s so long, it misses the most critical moments in Peace’s life. One instance occurs when a white professor Peace thinks is trustworthy, ultimately doesn’t help him when he needs them most. And yet, the film just brushes past the key moment. In a film concerned with how a system failed a clearly talented young Black man, it’s an odd choice.
Instead, Ejiofor opts for a syrupy lens, banal dialogue filled with platitudes, and cardboard characters. It’s especially disappointing that Peace’s mom, Jackie (a profound Mary J. Blige), disappears for long stretches: “Rob Peace” lacks a personal pulse away from Peace’s relationship with Skeet, being all too willing to slumber in the sadness of Peace’s story. It’s the kind of low-hanging fruit that Ejiofor, on his second film, should be avoiding.
After watching Tina Satter’s “Reality,” a film that uniquely approached NSA translator Reality Winner’s arrest for leaking classified documents, it’s off putting coming to Susanna Fogel’s conventional take on the same story. As opposed to “Reality,” which focused solely on the moment when agents arrived at Winner's home, a framing that invited tense, claustrophobic set pieces, Forgel’s “Winner” predictably spans much of the translator’s life. The result is the kind of accessible, crowd-pleasing dramedy that has become a dreaded Sundance calling card.
Fogel unnecessarily uses voiceover, allowing Winner (Emilia Jones) to tell her story. Winner was raised in Texas by Billie (Connie Britton) and Ron Winner (Zach Galifianakis). It’s the latter who instilled in her a subversive personality, inspiring her to become fluent in Persian, Dari, and Pashto following September 11th. An Air Force recruit would eventually compel her to join, on the promise that she’d be saving lives by traveling to far flung locales to de-escalate crises. Years pass before Winner realizes she’ll never live her dreams in the Air Force, so like any sensible person, she begins working for the NSA. There, following the 2016 election, she became further disillusioned as the government and Donald Trump denied any Russian interference in the presidential election. You probably know the rest.
I can’t say “Winner” is wholly ineffective; it certainly guides viewers through Winner’s life with dark comedic flair. But the loud editing is pandering; the voiceover is repetitive; Jones plays Winner as a caricature; the interpersonal relationships between Winner and her family and boyfriend are one note. “Winner” is purely composed of punchlines, causing the narrative to drag in the second half. By the end of Fogel’s film, we’re left cold and distant from a story we should be angered with.
Robert Daniels is an Associate Editor at RogerEbert.com. Based in Chicago, he is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association (CFCA) and Critics Choice Association (CCA) and regularly contributes to the New York Times, IndieWire, and Screen Daily. He has covered film festivals ranging from Cannes to Sundance to Toronto. He has also written for the Criterion Collection, the Los Angeles Times, and Rolling Stone about Black American pop culture and issues of representation.
