I Saw the Film Festival Glow: The Chicago Critics Film Festival Wrap-Up
I Saw the Film Festival Glow: The Chicago Critics Film Festival Wrap-Up
Wrapping up reviews of several more films from CCFF 2024. Plus, a cool announcement regarding another feature you can expect here soon!
If you haven’t read Part 1, do click on the link above. An announcement I’m also making is that I’ll begin highlighting physical media here on the newsletter in addition to my other writing about favorite films/songs that I’ve been doing. I won’t be writing an essay every week as you’ve noticed, since sometimes I’ll be writing new reviews or covering what’s out on Blu-Ray but fear not, I will stick with the initial plan that I had for the 5 Years project. So in about two weeks, expect to see a post with the latest Director’s Club episode along with some reviews of titles that I’ve been lucky enough to receive that I hope you’ll also consider picking up or buying if you’re a collector. Physical media is more important than ever now so I want to do my part in making folks aware of what’s new and out there. There are many other great critics, podcasters and enthusiasts doing stellar work to shine a light on the latest new releases, but I am thrilled and honored to contribute my own input on a monthly basis from this point forward. Now onto the final reviews of some of the things I had the pleasure of seeing at CCFF 2024.
Thelma (dir. Josh Margolin)
There’s something truly cool and delightful about making a movie inspired by the Mission Impossible franchise starring a lonely 93-year-old woman. That’s the starting point for Thelma, writer/director Josh Margolin’s Sundance hit starring June Squibb in her first leading role in a 70-year career. It’s as fun as it sounds, but without sugar-coating the challenges that face us all as we enter our twilight years. Thelma is inspired by the experiences of Margolin’s own now 103-year-old grandmother, who came very close to sending thousands of dollars to pay for his “bail” after she was targeted by phone scammers. The story is simple yet lends itself to the emotional moments as it deals with time, independence and family. It unravels an unfortunate reality of phone scammers better than The Beekeeper ever could.
In this debut feature, our beloved heroine Thelma sends $10,000 in cash to a phone scammer posing as her grandson Daniel (Fred Hechinger). When she senses Daniel’s parents (Parker Posey) and Alan (Clark Gregg) worry this mistake is an indication she’s not capable of taking care of herself, Thelma decides to track down the thieves and get her money back. As her reluctant partner in revenge and justice, she enlists old friend Ben (Richard Roundtree, in his final onscreen performance) and his fully loaded scooter.
They trek across LA in pursuit of her money, taking risks and doing things better left to younger folk, with every choice she makes driven by her need to assert her autonomy and prove herself capable. Once she confronts the culprit though, the film’s impact isn’t quite as strong as the setup. The confrontation and climax should’ve hit harder in the end once she arrives to complete her impossible mission. Sadly, it ends with more of a whimper than a bang.
This is still a story that’s worth sharing and telling others about especially if you have an older parent or grandparent that struggles with the ever-changing world of technology. As a librarian, there’s rarely a day that goes by where I don’t come into contact with someone like Thelma who is confused about their phone and how/why there are hackers out to get them.
Thelma doesn’t really set the world on fire outside of the two lead performances and their friendship, but I was thoroughly entertained by the majority of it. It definitely fits rather too neatly into the crowd-pleasing Sundance indie dramedy formula, but Squibb really makes this worthwhile regardless. Her commitment and sincerity here are a joy to see. We do get a little sidetracked with the grandson’s own relationship issues to where I wish those scenes had been excised completely. I wanted to stay with Thelma and Ben instead, but I realize the family has to be involved out of concern, and at the same time, they really don’t add a whole lot. Nevertheless, there's nothing gloomy in its messaging or June Squibb's brave, charming performance. As Bette Davis put it, old age ain't no place for sissies. Thelma shows that even at the age of 90, you can still achieve a lot, including revenge.
Good One (dir. India Donaldson)
If you’ve ever felt defeated and exhausted while surrounded by others that are nothing like you, moments throughout Good One will likely resonate even if the exact situation here isn’t similar. I never went camping with my dad and a friend, but I definitely connected to the protagonist. Yet, by the end, I couldn’t have felt something was missing. We may be used to dramatic confrontation in a film, perhaps to a fault in my case, since I wanted a bit more outward expression after the main conflict is exposed.
That’s not to say this film isn’t worthwhile or has a lot of merit, especially for women who have often felt silenced, belittled or unacknowledged. India Donaldson’s first feature starts with various shots of the Catskills– lush green woods, bright orange salamanders scurrying across mossy rocks, picturesque ponds and rivers. This sequence not only gives us a sneak peek of where we will be spending the next 90 minutes, but it also provides a tranquil juxtaposition to the emotional turmoil ahead. Both human nature and mother nature are chock-full of contradictions and challenges.
Donaldson then transports us to New York City, where she introduces us to Sam (an excellent debut performance from Lily Collias). She’s a 17-year-old child of divorce bound for college in the fall and currently getting ready for a father/daughter camping trip with her dad, Chris (the reliably great James Le Gros), who has since remarried in his 50s and has a toddler. Early on, we see his controlling nature poke through as he repacks the food jar for their overnight hike. His oldest friend, Matt (Danny McCarthy), and his son are supposed to join them, but that is quickly derailed during pick-up when a father/son argument breaks out and the group leaves as three instead of four.
The trip is filled with microaggressions from Chris directed towards his daughter. He makes her move to the back seat to make way for Matt. Sam is forced to sleep on the ground of their hostel. She is constantly talked over by both the adult men with her and a trio of male hikers who join them for one night. Sam keeps her head down and obliges them, despite Matt’s immature behavior. He leaves his sleeping bag in the car and carelessly hikes in jeans, yet she is treated as the immature one. She is left on the outside looking in. Men are gross, fallible and all adults make mistakes that could cause harm. Being a ‘good kid’ doesn’t mean having to endure discomfort. Sam is self-aware and smart enough to know it’s best not to subject herself to bad behavior exhibited by those closest to her.
Good One is a good film, without question. Perhaps the restlessness I felt a times was deliberate to create a sense of tension - the kind that Sam is dealing with. In terms of showcasing the minutia of hiking while also exploring subtle sexism and the dangerous, potentially toxic language that men impulsively unleash, I have no doubt that women will relate to Sam’s discomfort. Perhaps once the final act rolls around, I felt an acute anger that I wanted to see my own experience watching the film, reflected in the story and the outcome. The film mostly stays quiet in a Kelly Reichardt manner that usually I greatly connect to. I just wanted the men to receive more of a comeuppance for their ignorance and indifference, but the filmmaker wisely decides not to completely judge them for their transgressions. There’s a silent resolution that complements the tone of the film, but something was stirred in me that wanted a whole lot more.
National Anthem (dir. Luke Gilford)
Another reason that I love movies is that I often learn about cultures and subcultures that I never knew even existed in the first place. I’ve never been the best traveler or traveling companion so it’s unlikely I will venture out to a lot of places in my lifetime, so film has become my way to explore other walks of life and environments. National Anthem is a prime example of me just sitting back, taking it all in, being amazed by how communities form and learning more about a world that I knew nothing about previously. This subculture happens to be the world of queer rodeo. What came to mind for me was: what if Gregg Araki made a Western? (I know Almodovar recently made a short film in a similar vein as well).
What began as a photography project for Luke Gilford, documenting the attendants and participants in the queer rodeos that are staged in the Southwest U.S. for a now out-of-print book he released in 2020, morphed into this tale which tells the story of Dylan (a fearless Charlie Plummer), a lost soul slaving away at dead-end jobs to take care of his little brother while their mother (Robyn Lively) is thoughtlessly absent, fighting her own demons. The dynamics displayed throughout are very familiar. As film critic Marya Gates wrote, “I just wish the characters were more than just cyphers,” and I agree.
Fortune does shine upon Dylan one day when he gets a couple weeks’ worth of work on a queer ranch way out in the middle of nowhere that introduces him to the scene, as well as Sky (Eve Lindley), the girl of his dreams from the first moment he sees her. (A masturbatory fantasy did make an audience member in front of me chuckle a bit). Across the film's brief but dreamy ninety minutes, Gilford proves to be an immediate talent -- not just visually, which was expected given his already established photographer's eye, but emotionally and narratively, all of which he nails at every turn in Malick-like fashion. Dylan's introduction to the queer rodeo and its people has all the time-worn qualities of an outsider's eyes being opened to a wondrous new world -- we have seen this sort of arc many times before.
The queer rodeo proves to be a safe space for anyone on the LGBTQ+ spectrum, including allies and supporters which is truly wonderful to experience. However, this is a case of wondering what the film would’ve been liked if it had been a documentary instead of a narrative feature. Would it simply just have been Paris is Burning only with cowboy hats and horse riding? Who’s to say. The film does give a great showcase for Charlie Plummer as audience surrogate, learning to navigate through unexpected terrain and finding joy and romance there.
By the end, I did want a bit more than just compassionate immersion into this brave new world. The characters could’ve been more dimensional and fully realized to where they didn’t play more like cliches. But there are pleasures to be had, nonetheless, given the fact that this culture itself is so loving and unique. Deliberately paced and inviting, National Anthem ends on a compassionate note that warms the heart in a way that doesn’t feel forced. However, like the other two films I just reviewed, something was missing to make it exceptional and emotionally nuanced. If it had done more, it might’ve left an even greater impact on me.
Ghostlight (dir. Alex Thompson, Kelly O'Sullivan)
The Chicago Critics Film Festival started out strong with a film about theater (Sing Sing) and they concluded the proceedings with another film about theater that’s every bit as heartbreaking and beautiful. Not only that, it also ended up winning the Critics Choice for best feature and deservedly so. Seeing nearly the entire cast and crew up there for the Q&A was the perfect note to end on for what I’d say is one of the best lineups the festival has ever had (even if I had reservations, not one title I would say was bad / boring).
Movies about loss within a family of any kind tend to strike a chord with me and Ghostlight is no exception. Dan (Kieth Kuferer) is a father, husband construction worker by day and has to deal with a recent tragedy at night when he goes home to his wife Sharon (Tara Mallen) and daughter Daisy (Katherine Kuferer), who’s having issues in school with her anger. She may even get that from dear old dad too.
While working one day Dan stumbles onto a local theater company. He gets convinced by one of their company, Rita (Dolly De’Leone) to come and see what they are all about. What he finds is consolation by becoming someone else (though a character he later learns to relate to) as well as a way to put his day-to-day life on hold for a little while each day. As most of us know, the arts have hold much power. I’ve often said that film and music for me, have been the best therapy I could ever ask for.
When the audience finally learns what happened which has lead to their overwhelming grief through silence and anger, we are left shaken. There’s a scene late in the film involving a hearing where Keith Kuferer truly shines as we watch him crumble with vulnerability. Ditto later on during the pivotal scene that he is finally able to act through without breaking down. The theater helps Dan deepen his bond with his own family as well as ease the pain he’s been feeling by offering a safe place where he can finally express his bottled-up emotions.
The loving bond with his family had been severed, but Dan finds a surrogate family in his amateur theater group, too. The family dynamic is performed fantastically by an actual family - Kuferer, Mallen, and their daughter (previously seen in Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret?). I can’t say enough good things about the entire ensemble but father and daughter truly stand out throughout.
Thompson and O’Sullivan’s previous film, Saint Frances was a truly touching debut, receiving widespread praise on the regional festival circuit and national stage, including nominations from the Film Independent Spirit Awards and The Gotham Awards. I was eagerly awaiting their follow-up and Ghostlight did not disappoint. Both with this film and Sing Sing, part of me wants to play the “sentimental” card and roll my eyes. But you’re talking to someone who cries at stories like these regardless even if I’m aware the strings are being pulled to a degree.
Ghostlight doesn’t make you openly weep in a manipulative fashion, every emotion is earned in the end. Every gesture feels real and relatable. Thompson and O’Sullivan deserve the highest of praise for making a crowd-pleaser that never succumbs to sappiness, providing memorable characters finding solace in the arts. You in turn will care about this family like they were your own. As much as I love surreal, weird, dreamlike experiences at the movies, there’s no denying the power of something simple, sweet with its heart in the right place. Ghostlight is all that and more to where I know we’ll be seeing more from all involved.
Me (dir. Don Hertzfeldt)
I truly never know how to write about a Don Hertzfeldt film to where I simply want to let the work speak for itself. That’s even what I thought when I saw what would eventually become my favorite animated film of all time, It’s Such A Beautiful Day. How can I talk about this on a podcast? How can I jot down my thoughts especially when something made me feel every thing I could possibly feel? This is everything I could want and more and nothing I write will be able to capture what it was to let these images unfold before my eyes.
Well I also feel this way about another short film that Collin Souter played at the end too that I’ll get to last. Suffice to say, I need to see ME again before finalizing my overall feelings (gee, does this sound familiar?). I just don’t know how Hertzfeldt achieves what he has time and time again, often with just crude drawings of stick figures. Every image becomes so vivid, so raw as it unfolds before your eyes. Perhaps it’s an exercise of projecting but most films I’ve seen of his are about an apocalyptic madness that happens internally. Strangely enough, ME has that kind of energy on more of a macro-level. This time he’s thinking about humanity’s end as coming from the external.
How Hertzfeldt manages to peel away layers of philosophical questions around the notions of community, death and what constitutes a meaningful life is even more staggering by the use of (generally) simplistic yet charmingly drawn characters with large round heads (perhaps relatives of the Charlie Brown universe which might explain why I strongly respond every time). This time, his magic works like a musical without dialogue, where story beats carry the cadence. Even without any spoken words, there's still a lot to take away here, and it feels especially poignant and tragic in a post-COVID world. There is perhaps not-so-subtle commentary on our dependence on technology or our tendencies to get caught up in our own projects, while neglecting those that are closest to us. Then we end up lost, alone, cut off.
There is something both poetic and operatic about ME that is hard to put into a conventional movie review. I thought of the animator as conductor here, for obvious reasons since classical music later plays a big role. The possibilites of the imagination are endless especially when you have the kind of talent that this creator has. But again, summing up ME is next to impossible. Sometimes I feel like I end up letting words eat themselves into exhaustion because nothing can quite capture the feeling or the experience of sitting down to letting something like this unfold before your eyes. Little did I know what the films Waking Life and Mulholland Drive would mean to me since I saw them the night before my father passed away. Little did I know that It’s Such A Beautiful Day would become one of my favorite films ever too.
I have to write about all three sooner than later and again, I can’t literally place you inside of my mind to know what movies have done to heal my pain or open my eyes to the frailty of being alive and vulnerable. I also can’t type on a keyboard to really recreate the feelings. The same goes for a lot of Hertzfeldt’s work to where either you walk away feeling elated or you simply just feel like you tripped out into some kind of twisted oblivion. ME made me happy to be alive, sad that humans are going to fuck up the world and come to terms with the fact that both love and death are blessings. They’re also impossible to contain and each experience we have is our own. All we can hope for is that we don’t end up too cut off or lost inside ourselves. We don’t want to sever the wires from our heart to where we grow cold, sinking into a black hole of our own design.
Bob’s Funeral (dir. Jack Dunphy)
Here we go again. Jim mentioning his dad?! I know, what a shock. I just did that for the last review. But it’s even more apt here. Unlike some of the films I view at the festival, I try not to read anything ahead of time about the short films that play every year in hopes of going in completely cold and fresh. I did stumble across the succinct synopsis for Bob’s Funeral since I help put together the festival website every year.
Description: “Exploring the roots of generational trauma, the director brings his camera to his estranged grandfather’s funeral. This dramedy delves into the complexities of a dysfunctional family and the significance of celebrating a loved one’s life.” Of course I knew it was going to be heavy because most stories about losing a family member will immediately hit home. But I wasn’t prepared to be a shaking, blubbering mess by the end of Bob’s Funeral.
Did I mention that I saw my two favorite films of the fest (both shorts) on my birthday? It started with ME as the opening title of the first program and ended with Bob’s Funeral to where I could barely contain my response. This wildly inventive documentary film follows two deaths in the family in 2015. We follow Dunphy as he interviews his family members to figure out why his father, Mark, and his grandfather, Bob, did not get along. The story is told in a vignette style with a mix of animated flashbacks and home movie footage. The first half of the short depicts the estranged nature between the Dunphys and Freemans (his father’s side of the family) at Bob’s funeral. Then something happens later on that well, let’s just say I related to so much that it felt like reliving precisely what I experienced in October of 2001.
The short’s second half shows the filmmaker’s fractured relationship with his father. Mark was a talented man, an aspiring writer. He is mostly kindhearted, yet he has his demons due to Bob’s abusive and neglecting nature. What results is more than just an examination of the aforementioned generational trauma, but the complicated bonds we have with those who have given us life in the first place. Then how do we process the time we have left when they leave sooner than expected?
Bob’s Funeral is not going to affect everyone the same way but there’s no way you won’t watch this without thinking about your own relationship (whether fractured or not) with those who raised you. It’s also not sentimental either. Dunphy doesn’t shy away from the darkness, the neglect, the addiction, the isolation. Yet this is also a celebration of life in the spirit of Dick Johnson Is Dead (another one of my favorites of the past few years). Mileage may vary depending on how close you are/were with your dad but Bob’s Funeral is definitely the film that moved me the most. I should have brought kleenex.
Footnote: I still can’t get over the fact that I Saw The TV Glow along with the short films ME, Patient and Bob’s Funeral all played within one weekend simply because they all reflected my own life and personal experience in a meaningful, often frightening way. Frightening in how accurate or real it felt to the point of causing anxiety (again in a good, self-reflective way). Therefore, this year’s festival was not only a showcase of talent but proved to me that movies both feature-length and short really can put one’s life into perspective in a way that is definitely cathartic, but mostly celebratory. Certainly, the world will come to and end sooner than we’d like but we did the best we could, warts and all with many mistakes made along the way. In the end, I’m so grateful to the festival (along with friends) for providing the best birthday I’ve had in a long, long time. See you in 2025!
2024 CCFF Letterboxd Ranked List
