“Rocky Mountain Way”: Selections from the 51st Telluride Film Festival

By Jonathan Monovich.

This year marked the 51^st iteration of the TFF, featuring diverse minds from around the world, including Americans, Chileans, Germans, and Iranians.”

Despite its laidback atmosphere, the Telluride Film Festival (TFF) is very serious for its well-known world premieres, track record for including eventual Oscar nominees in their lineup, and overlap with the Cannes/Venice film festivals. Unsurprisingly, many look to Telluride in predicting the Academy’s next best picture. Hosted approximately 9,000 ft. above sea level, films are screened and surrounded by the otherworldly San Juan mountains of Colorado. Just as Joe Walsh described of a better way of life over his song “Rocky Mountain Way,” there’s an undeniable lure to the natural beauty of the San Juan mountain region of the Rockies that is felt upon arrival. The atmosphere surely provides an escape due to its remote location. Getting to Telluride is a journey in itself, requiring hours of high elevation driving, but it is well worth it. Whereas the waterways in Venice hold gondolas, the lush forestry of Telluride is occupied by a different kind of gondola suspended in the air to help travel between Telluride and the neighboring Mountain Village.

The festival’s spread-out venues intensify the playful suspense felt by scurrying film fanatics trying to get from one screening to the next on time. Further adding to the festival’s excitement is the anticipation of the lineup, which is only revealed the day before it begins. In Julie Huntsinger, the festival’s director, we trust. Huntsinger has established a renowned aptitude for programming, and her taste is well-respected by the thousands of festivalgoers who attend the TFF each year. This year marked the 51^st iteration of the TFF. I was fortunate to see ten films made by diverse minds from around the world including Americans, Chileans, Germans, and Iranians. Through my conversations with filmmakers, professors, authors, and well-versed film enthusiasts from around the world between screenings, it quickly became apparent that the TFF is a true one-of-a-kind and among the best congregations for film lovers in the world. I already long for my time spent in Telluride and hope to return to the “Rocky Mountain Way” of moviegoing in the future.

Piece by Piece (World Premiere)

Preceding the premiere of Focus Features’ Piece by Piece (2024), director Morgan Neville and Pharrell Williams shared that the film was “about magical thinking.” The film took five years to complete. Given that the documentary is told via LEGO animation, it likely took sufficient time to even get the project off the ground. Piece by Piece opens with Williams professing that he’s “always been different” and that he “comes from the mud.” Williams was born in raised in the projects of Virginia Beach. It was this environment that Williams credits for his exposure to “magic.” This “magic” paired with the encouragement of Williams’ parents helped him to become one of the most iconic producers of all time. Before meeting Chad Hugo, who Williams would pair with to form the Neptunes, he shares that he struggled in school. His attention was dedicated to TV/music with early influences including Stevie Wonder, Soul Train, and Carl Sagan’s Cosmos. These records and television shows helped Williams to escape into “dreamland,” allowing his imagination to run wild. Music was always on Williams’ mind, and when he eventually met Hugo in high school, the two frequently skipped class to create music. This would pay off when Teddy Riley set up his studio in town and offered a contract to the winners of the local high school talent show. Williams and Hugo of course won, and the rest is history. 

It is said that “there’s something in the water” in Virginia Beach, and that “something” has helped to bring many other local artists to the forefront. Neville does a marvelous job chronicling the rise of Williams, helping viewers to understand how important his upbringing was to his success. Like Neville’s other documentaries The Saint of Second Chances (2023), Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (2018), and Roadrunner: A Film About Anthony Bourdain (2021), Piece by Piece is both incredibly entertaining and powerfully emotional. Amidst the recreation of flashbacks, the glue that holds Piece by Piece together is Neville’s thoughtful questions and Williams’ thoughtful responses in an engaging conversation over LEGO directors chairs. The tales of collaborations are all quite fun, but what is most interesting about Piece by Piece is to hear Williams’ life philosophy and how he arrived at it one piece at a time. Though Piece by Piece’s main focus is on music and places little emphasis on Williams’ other groundbreaking ventures, the film’s ninety-three-minute run time works extremely well in telling an incredible story while never losing focus. Piece by Piece is about dreamers and will surely put a smile on your face. It is a film that achieves what it desires to accomplish, bringing joy into the world from allowing creativity to flourish. Neville has positioned himself as one of the top documentary filmmakers, and the colorful vibrancy of Piece by Piece only further solidifies that he has a bright future ahead. As for Williams, his next move can never quite be predicted. This is what makes Piece by Piece so fun.

Conclave (World Premiere)

In introducing the premiere of Focus Features’ Conclave (2024), director Edward Berger joked that because his last film, All Quiet on the Western Front (2022), was “made in the mud” he decided to make his follow up in the “second most beautiful place in the world [Rome]”. Preceding Rome in beauty would of course be Telluride. Furthermore, with Conclave playing in the Werner Herzog Theatre, Berger expressed immense gratitude as he “comes from the same place [Germany]” as Herzog and thus felt a personal connection. Adapted from Robert Harris’ novel of the same name, Conclave, is a gripping Vatican-set thriller. Following the death of the Pope, Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes) is tasked with leading the selection process for the successor of the Catholic Church’s throne. This is a Herculean task for Lawrence. Tension is high at the Church, and to further complicate matters is the arrival of Benitez, the Arch Bishop of Kabul (Carlos Diehz), and neighboring terrorist attacks. A dying wish of the Pope, Benitez was appointed to be a Cardinal. The choice comes with great scrutiny from Lawrence and his peers, questioning if the Pope was mentally well in making this decision. What Lawrence comes to realize is that those trying to influence and sway him, particularly Cardinal Tremblay (John Lithgow) and Cardinal Bellini (Stanley Tucci) may be the ones who are indeed unwell. Both Tucci and Lithgow have strong supporting roles, but it is Fiennes who makes the film. The character of Cardinal Lawrence is Fiennes’ best role since The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) and A Bigger Splash (2015). Isabella Rossellini, though brief in appearance, also furthers her legacy with her role as the instigator Sister Agnes.

At its core, Conclave is a satire of electoral politics filled with scandals, blackmailing, and bribing. The conclave process is even outright analogously compared to America in the film as they have to succumb to selecting the “least worst” candidate. Conclave is extremely impressive, surpassing the Polanski/Harris collaborations The Ghost Writer (2010) and An Officer and a Spy (2019). This speaks volumes for Peter Straughan ’s screenplay as Harris wasn’t directly involved in writing for the screen like in the past. Straughan’s screenplay is very well-crafted and the film brings some surprisingly comedic dialogue. The film’s twists and turns make for an entertaining cinematic mystery, but what really makes Conclave so invigorating is the precision of its direction. Berger is attentive to detail in composing images worthy for framing, including the papacy walking with umbrellas in the rain, lowering down staircases, or simply sitting for dinner. The contrast between the film’s beauty and the ugliness of its characters ingeniously furthers the film’s overall central theme—a crisis of faith.

The End (World Premiere)

Before the premiere of Neon’s The End (2024), writer/director, Joshua Oppenheimer, noted “this is a film about… how we tell stories and sing songs to obscure the world from ourselves… It’s a film about the tragic consequences of self-deception.” In attendance with Oppenheimer was George MacKay, Moses Ingram, and Michael Shannon. Known for his brilliant documentaries The Act of Killing (2012) and The Look of Silence (2014), The End marks Oppenheimer’s first foray into narrative filmmaking. Like his documentaries, Oppenheimer’s The End is thought-provoking and grapples with deep subject matter. Oppenheimer’s films are defined by moral complexity and explore the lowest lows of humanity. Whereas his documentaries centered on the Indonesian genocide, The End makes a statement about humanity as a whole. Going into The End, it should be expected that this is not an easy film. Though it is being described as a “golden age musical,” The End has little resemblance to the golden age. While films like An American in Paris (1951), Singin’ in the Rain (1952), and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) were defined by attractive settings, grandiose numbers, countless extras, and joyous melodies, The End takes place in a confined set, there are only a handful of characters, and possesses a depressing tone. A better moniker would be an “anti-golden age musical.” 

Set in the not so distant future, The End follows a family that is purely alive because of their wealth. The irony is that their wealth was amassed from the catalyst of the world’s destruction—nonrenewable energy. The world has become uninhabitable from environmental collapse, and Michael Shannon, Tilda Swinton, and their son George MacKay live in a bunker. Appropriately, The End opens with a nightmare. Shannon and Swinton have sheltered their son both literally and figuratively from the world. He is presented with a fabricated sense of reality, and the only news he sees is from print clippings that have been purposefully chosen to spoon feed a fabricated narrative. Possessing a childlike naivety, MacKay spends his days playing with a model train set, singing, dancing, and helping his father write an imprudent book. Meanwhile, Tilda Swinton, constantly rearranges her opulent painting collection and longs of her ballerina past. These are deeply misguided people who profess “it’s sheer arrogance to think that we control the fate of our planet.” This family lives with immeasurable privilege and even have a doctor (Lennie James) and caregivers (Bronagh Gallagher/Tim McInnerny) on staff. The inconvenient truth of the outside world upends their leisure. When a “outsider” (Moses Ingram) arrives, they reluctantly allow her to stay. This permits MacKay to experience the beauty of falling in love for the first time. Of all of the film’s seen at Telluride this year, even if it may not be perfect, The End is the one that will stick with you the most. The film’s overarching theme is regret, and with that regret comes the central question “can we be forgiven.” Given the rapid decay of our planet, Oppenheimer has effectively created a film that recognizes the only way to prevent this scenario is with unity and love. Oppenheimer also recognizes the power of laughter as medicine. This is not a pretentious film. Have a hard time believing that? Well, there are even fart jokes at play. 

Saturday Night (World Premiere) 

Writer/director Jason Reitman prefaced the premiere of Sony’s Saturday Night (2024) with a personal anecdote, recalling that he joined Saturday Night Live’s writers room for a week as a child. This experience had an incredible impact on his life, stating that he always had the desire to share the behind-the-scenes feeling of SNL. Reitman then proceeded to note that there was a “special guest” in attendance. Looking over to my left, Bill Murray stealthily stood up from a mere six seats over from me and approached the stage. This made for a magical moment given Murray’s SNL history and his collaborations with Jason Reitman’s father, Ivan, for Meatballs (1979), Stripes (1981), Ghostbusters (1984). When the lights went down, the film opened with the Lorne Michaels quote “the show doesn’t go on because it’s ready. It goes on because it’s 11.30.” The incredibly ambitious Saturday Night takes place on October 11, 1975 at 10pm ET (ninety minutes before the first episode of SNL airs). The film’s runtime is just over ninety minutes, heightening the realism of the backstage chaos. Reitman is primarily known for Juno (2007) and Up in the Air (2009), though Saturday Night is most similar to his overlooked The Front Runner (2018). Chronicling the demise of Gary Hart’s presidential campaign and the bastardization of major news networks into tabloid-style coverage, The Front Runner opens in a Touch of Evil (1958) fashion. One long take, set to Dave Brubeck’s “Unsquare Dance,” follows the media circus to channel the utter chaos of political coverage. Imagine that scene extended for the entire feature, and that is the vibe of Saturday Night. Saturday Night is of course more charming as it is an underdog story and filled brim to brim with portrayals of many of the most famous comedians of all time, including Lorne Michaels (Gabrielle LaBelle), Chevy Chase (Cory Michael Smith), John Belushi (Matt Wood), Dan Akroyd (Dylan O’Brien), Andy Kaufman (Nicholas Braun), and Gilda Radner (Ella Hunt). The likeliness of these comedians is uncanny, and the young cast of Saturday Night marks one of the greatest ensembles to hit the screen since the real “not ready for prime time players.”

Saturday Night is Reitman’s best film to date. Shot on 16mm film, Reitman channels the look and feel of the 70s quite well. The costume design by Danny Glicker is fantastic with patchwork denim blazers, bell bottoms, corduroys, large collared shirts, and vests. On top of the film’s incredible performances, writing, and direction, the icing on the cake for Saturday Night is Jon Batiste’s mesmerizing percussion/jazz-infused score. Batiste composed the score in real time on set while the film was being shot to further amplify the film’s realism. Batiste’s contribution to Saturday Night extends to his portrayal of one half of SNL’s first musical guest—Billy Preston. The other half being Janis Ian (Naomi McPherson), whose presence in Saturday Night makes for a comedic highlight. Other highlights include the recreation of now iconic skits. What makes Saturday Night most enjoyable is seeing a group of twentysomethings prove the bigwigs wrong. This is a film about the power of collaborative improvisation. It is also a film about the magic, or at least the magical perception, of city life where anything is possible for naïve newcomers.

The Apprentice (North American Premiere)

There was a strange feeling in the air during the premiere of Briarcliff Entertainment’s The Apprentice (2024). It’s a film that’s been on a lot of minds. It felt surreal to even see the film given its rocky backstory. Even director Ali Abbasi told the crowd that he was “nervous.” He also stated that the film is “not a political hit piece” and that the film was meant to serve as a “mirror” signaling viewers to reflect upon where we have gotten and why. As Abbasi introduced the film, Sebastian Stan, Jeremy Strong, and screenwriter Gabriel Sherman were side by side in supporting the Iranian-Danish filmmaker’s perspective on American society. Stylistically, The Apprentice channels the work of Adam McKay. Like Vice (2018), The Apprentice presents the material in a somewhat absurdist fashion. Like Winning Time: The Rise of the Lakers Dynasty (2022-2023), The Apprentice is very much concerned with texture and establishing a feeling from a particular era in pop culture. For The Apprentice, that era is the turn of the 1970s into the 1980s. Regardless of how factual The Apprentice is, that is not the point. This is purely a work of entertainment. The Apprentice’s electric pacing paired with a soundtrack blending two antithetical genres, punk and disco, says a lot about the film’s bipolar qualities. As for the film’s original music, the synthesizer-heavy score composed by Martin Dirkov, David Holmes, and Brian Irvine is haunting.

The term biopic doesn’t seem like the best descriptor for The Apprentice. Rather, The Apprentice could be described as an allegorical interpretation of capitalism with fictionalized versions of Donald Trump and Roy Cohn as stand ins. Like Andrew Dominik’s Killing Them Softly (2012), The Apprentice sees America as a business. It is said multiple times in the film that “America is the biggest client.” Jeremy Strong’s version of Roy Cohn uses this as a mantra of sorts. Furthermore, Bruce Beaton’s version of Andy Warhol appears at a party, saying “making money is art.” The messaging is quite clear, but The Apprentice never feels preachy. More than anything, The Apprentice is fixated on the dichotomy of “winning” vs “losing” in terms of materialism and the pitfalls of rationalizing that way of thinking in all elements of one’s life. For Jeremy Strong’s Cohn, the rules for winning are “1. Attack, attack, attack, 2. Admit nothing, deny everything, and 3. Claim victory and never admit defeat.” These rules at first lead to a “friendship pact” with Sebastian Stan’s take on Trump and then serve as the catalyst for bitter betrayal between the two. The Apprentice is not concerned with politics, rather it is about relationships. That is, how relationships are constructed and how they crumble. The Apprentice is a film that some will love and others will hate. Don’t expect The Apprentice to influence your political stance, but the reception for this film will likely be as divisive as America as a whole, furthering Abbasi’s objective in creating a filmic microcosm of contemporary America.

Anora (North American Premiere)

Sean Baker has steadily been on the rise for the last two and half decades, cementing himself as a staple of true independent cinema. Like the later entries of Baker’s oeuvre, he explores the commodification of one’s body with his newest film—Anora (2024). Neon’s Anora was this year’s winner of the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival, marking a turning point in Baker’s career. Anora is Baker’s biggest film to date, but it also maintains the indie sensibilities of his earlier works. The film follows a New York exotic dancer, Ani aka Anora (Mikey Madison), and her tumultuous relationship with Ivan (Mark Eydelshteyn), the son of a Russian oligarch. When the two impulsively decide to get married, Ivan’s father sends his henchmen, Toro (Karen Karagulian), Garrick (Vache Tovmasyan), and Igor (Yuma Korisov) to get the marriage annulled. What follows is Ani’s tumultuous journey in attempting to remain monogamous. For its thematic preoccupations, Anora will likely be compared to Pretty Woman (1990), Nights of Cabiria (1957), and Vivre sa vie (1962). Anora does have similarities to these films, but there is also a strong resemblance to Baker’s comedic past with the television show Greg the Bunny (2002-2004) and his own work. In essence, Anora, a neorealist screwball comedy meets romantic tragedy, is a melting pot of Baker’s interests.

Following the screening, Baker was present for a Q&A moderated by filmmaker David Lowery alongside producers Samantha Quan/Alex Coco and actors Madison, Eydelshteyn, Karagulian, and Tovmasyan. The casting process, the film’s setting, an unforgettable confrontation in the film’s center, and rehearsals were all points of discussion. Lowery also cleverly picked up on the fact that all of Baker’s films include a scene where a character vomits. In Anora, this is just one of the film’s many unpredictable comedic moments. Despite the laughs, Anora is a very mature feature. The film is an emotional roller coaster that switches tone quite frequently, but because of this, Anora is about twenty minutes too long. Tighter editing in the film’s third act would have allowed for a more seamless film. Anora gets a little too comfortable taking its time post-marriage, and the punchy Baker signature does not fully sustain for the film’s entirety. One thing that never wavers is Ani’s perseverance in attempting to navigate her life while being interrogated by an elitist family more concerned about status than their son’s own wellbeing. The setup in Anora is a familiar one, but Baker’s spin on the “Cinderella story” is an inventive take on the genre. Baker has a tendency to cap his films with hard-hitting finales. Anora is no different.

¡Casa Bonita Mi Amor! (Special Presentation)

Trey Parker/Matt Stone, the creators of South Park (1997–), are well known for their irreverent brand of humor and Colorado nativism. In one South Park’s more notorious episodes, the infamous Eric Cartman visits a Mexican-themed restaurant/amusement park hybrid named Casa Bonita. The establishment, equipped with cliff divers, a treasure-filled cave, and pirates, is hilariously ridiculous. Cartman will stop at nothing to attend Casa Bonita, and gets himself into some serious trouble in doing so. When asked if it was worth it, his response—“totally!” MTV Documentary Films’ ¡Casa Bonita Mi Amor! (2024) reveals that Casa Bonita is a real place in Denver, CO, and unsurprisingly it was Parker, the voice of Cartman’s, favorite destination as a child. Parker can’t help but let out his inner Cartman at times, and when the opportunity is presented to buy Casa Bonita, he can’t resist. South Park’s other half, Stone, is less enthusiastic about the venture but supports his friend. When Casa Bonita filed for bankruptcy during the pandemic, Parker jumped at the opportunity to buy it for $3.1 million. Casa Bonita, directed by Arthur Bradford, a past collaborator of Parker/Stone for the excellent documentary 6 Days to Air: The Making of South Park (2011), shows that the South Park men may have bit off more than they could chew with this project. In serious disrepair, Casa Bonita is revealed to be increasingly more of a wreck as the restoration advances. This heightens the absurdity of the project, making Casa Bonia akin to an episode of an HGTV home improvement show.

One of the most amusing aspects of Casa Bonita is the constantly growing sum required to complete the restoration. Like Cartman, Parker won’t take no for an answer. The documentary reveals that Parker/Stone are not the only Casa Bonita fans. The widespread fandom for Casa Bonita is partly indebted to South Park, but there is also a great deal of nostalgia tied to it. Seeing vintage advertisements, hearing stories from workers, and learning of Casa Bonita’s 50+ year history provides answers as to why. Throughout the film, Bradford follows Parker visiting Mexico to bring back decorations for the restaurant, creating jingles to the tune of Elvis songs from Fun in Acapulco (1963), and stressing out over the countless issues associated with the renovation. Parker is resilient despite the challenges. The rewarding aspect of the film comes from seeing the joy that Parker brings to many in helping a bizarre sliver of Americana live on. Bradford’s ability to both make the film touching and simultaneously silly works quite well. In a Q&A following the film, Parker/Stone joked that they didn’t think they would be making any money off this venture, but that’s clearly not the point. In a Cartman voice, Parker comedically noted that it was still “totally” worth it. Making the experience even more quirky was having a second Bill Murray sighting as the comedian sat directly in front of me before heading off to attend a screening of The Friend (2024).

Martha (World Premiere)

Though Netflix’s Martha (2024) may seem unnecessary, following the  release of The Many Lives of Martha Stewart (2024), R.J. Cutler’s documentary manages to offer new information from Stewart’s highly publicized life. Cutler is best known for The September Issue (2009) and Belushi (2020). This year is proving to be a busy one for Cutler as his follow-up, Elton John: Never Too Late (2024), premiers at the Toronto International Film Festival directly after Telluride. Unlike The Many Lives of Martha Stewart, Martha is authorized by Stewart. Stewart’s presence in candid interviews with Cutler, allows for comic untold stories. As Stewart has aged, she has become more open. This has allowed the world to see how funny she can be. Cutler uses this to his advantage in Martha. In her conversation with Cutler, Stewart says early on “if you want to be happy for a year, get married. If you want to be happy for a decade, get a dog. If you want to be happy for a lifetime, get a garden.” This quote not only shows how cunning Stewart can be, but it also is revealed to be somewhat of a life mantra. Martha spends ample time focusing on Stewart’s failed marriage/relationships. Her husband’s adultery is chronicled, though Stewart also admits to her own “naughty” moments. It is revealed that Stewart thrives on independence, and the garden is her place of solace. While Martha prospers from humor, it doesn’t shy in bringing Stewart’s darker side to light. The infamous insider trader scandal and Stewart’s prison sentence are chronicled. What makes this chapter worthwhile is its dive into Stewart’s personal journals from behind bars. While the public saw Stewart’s squeaky clean image, insiders say she was a bully behind the scenes. Stewart’s incarceration helped reform both her life and the lives of her fellow inmates that she befriended.

Given Stewart’s tenacity, it’s no surprise that she was able to rebound. Cutler attributes this largely to her involvement in the Comedy Central Roast of Justin Bieber (2015), which led to the reinvention of her formerly uptight persona and her unlikely friendship with Snoop Dogg. Throughout Martha, the word “perfectionist” is thrown around a lot in describing Stewart. She attributes this quality to her father. As Stewart got older, she realized “imperfection is something you can deal with.” By doing so, Stewart actually became more likeable and her later years were liberating. When Stewart arrived on stage following the screening, the audience erupted with cheers. Her ultimate objective was to help make living both easier and more enjoyable, and the standing ovation evidenced how many lives she has impacted. Alongside Stewart were Cutler and TCM host Dave Karger. Karger moderated the conversation, which saw plenty of good-natured banter. During the Q&A, it was also revealed that Stewart’s autobiography will be arriving soon. Martha plays like the cliff notes. Had Stewart been more present during the dragging center of the documentary, itwould have been much more meaningful. Regardless, Martha has its moments.

Maria (North American Premiere)

Director Pablo Larraín’s Maria (2024; see top image) begins and ends on September 16, 1977–the day the opera died. The film excels in its passage of time, alternating between the present (signified by color) and the past (in black and white). Before presenting a clapperboard marked Maria, Larraín employs a gorgeous montage. This clapperboard reappears to help organize the film’s three acts. Even though Larraín makes a conscience effort to perfect the narrative’s structure, Maria reaffirms the weak link of Larraín’s films continues to be the writing. The repetitive nature of the film stresses this. That being said, Maria is not a bad film; it is Larraín’s best since Jackie (2016). Angelina Jolie will likely occupy the spotlight for her performance, but equally as impressive, is the blending film formats by cinematographer Edward Lachman. Most intriguing is the use of 8mm film in recreating home videos. Like Spencer (2021) and Jackie, Larraín continues complex exploration of a female icon dealing with the battle between the pressures of fame and personal satisfaction. Angelina Jolie’s portrayal of La Divina, Maria Callas, is unquestionably the best of her career. The suffering that Callas endured is central to the film’s overarching mantra that she both lived and died for her music. With her health failing, Callas’ fastidiousness drives her refusal to quit. Horribly treated by the press/public, Jolie’s interpretation of Callas endures through the relationships she holds with her housemaid (Alba Rohrwacher), butler (Pierfrancesco Favino), and a young documentarian (Kodi Smit-McPhee). She also is deeply hurt by the infidelity of her lover Aristotle Onassis (Haluk Bilginer). Maria is very much a swan song, though there are also glimpses into the peak of Callas’ stardom and her challenging upbringing. 

Larraín revealed that he was inspired to make Maria out of nostalgia for days spent with his mother at the opera as a child. Jolie also discussed how she took opera classes for seven months to prepare. This seemed overemphasized as it is not Jolie’s voice that is heard singing in the film, rather hers is “mixed” with Callas’. Lachman also shared that Larraín operated the cameras for the film, though the two worked closely together. Maria certainly looks like a personal film, and undoubtedly a lot of emotion went into making it. Maria simultaneously feels distant because of its ostentatious delivery. Maria falls to style over substance as did Spencer and El Conde (2023). The production design by Guy Hendrix Dyas and the costume design by Massimo Cantini Parrini is exquisite, but their pairing with the masterful cinematography and Jolie’s acting prowess does not combine to create film that is as beautiful as its parts. Larraín’s ambition for contrasting visual beauty with emotional horror in concept becomes underdeveloped. The setup allows for filmic tension, which gives Maria an operatic quality. This is appropriate for a film about an opera singer, yet the overly-dramatized tone can be difficult to watch at times.

A Real Pain (Special Presentation)

Following its success at Sundance, A Real Pain (2024) also turned out to be one of the best films at Telluride. Jesse Eisenberg, while best known for his acting, has written/directed the kind of intellectual comedy that has been absent. It has both big laughs and big ideas. This is a significant improvement from Eisenberg’s directorial debut, which is mediocre in comparison. Whereas When You Finish Saving the World (2022) exhibited glimpses of greatness in its satirical examination of internet fame, bleeding heart youth, and modern parenting, A Real Pain is much more focused. A Real Pain is about the unplanned pitfalls of travel. A Real Pain is a story of genealogy, grief, reconciliation, and self-discovery. A Real Pain is also about history and how we revisit, discuss, evaluate, and live with it. Though David (Jesse Eisenberg) is well-aware of his cousin, Benji’s (Kieran Culkin), unpredictable behavior, he agrees to travel to Poland, the motherland for the Kaplan family, in honor of their late grandmother and her remarkable holocaust survival. From the film’s first moments, Eisenberg establishes that even though David and Benji are family, their personalities differ greatly. David is a responsible neurotic, like the characters that have defined Eisenberg’s acting career. Benji, is an unfiltered extrovert and always up for adventure, yet childishly immature. A battle of bickering ensues between the two.

Given that the brotherly love is on display for their tour group, this allows for plenty of awkward scuffles. Along for the ride are the tour guide (Will Sharpe), a divorcee (Jennifer Grey), a Rwandan Jewish convert (Kurt Egyiawan), and a retired husband (Daniel Oreskes)/wife (Liza Sadovy). Learning of each member of the group’s troubles, the journey becomes therapeutic for all. It can be too much to handle at times given the intensity of the final destination, the Majdanek concentration camp in Lublin, before David/Benji part ways with their companions to find their grandmother’s house. A Real Pain is a delicate tightrope walk that requires both great talent and understanding to properly craft. Eisenberg successfully navigates that walk from point A to point B without falling in-between. Eisenberg has been a playwright for many years, thus screenwriting is a natural extension for him. A Real Pain also proves that he has earned his place in the director’s chair. There is great visual literacy at play in this film. What will be remembered most about A Real Pain is its recognition of how pain is coped with through discourse.

Jonathan Monovich is a Chicago-based writer and a regular contributor for Film International. His writing has also been featured in Film Matters, Bright Lights Film Journal, and PopMatters.