Sundance

Tickets for the 2024 Sundance Film Festival are now on sale. This year marks the festival’s 40th year and, with it, some new ways for local Utah residents to experience the hallmark event.

There’s a little bit of something for every appetite, whether you’re a diehard indie film buff, or more of a casual movie fan who wants to stick to events in Salt Lake City…Because, let’s face it, not everyone wants to schlep up to Park City in the dead of winter to fight for a parking spot to catch a random premiere. However, some of us most certainly do, and they will also arrive early to every Beyond Film discussion or filmmaker Q&A they can squeeze into their schedule. (Those conversations are really cool, too. To get an idea, check out the Beyond Film line-up from last year’s festival.)

With the 2024 Sundance Film Festival still a few months away, the festival has not yet released programming details, but we have details on the tickets packages that are on sale right now.

2024 Sundance Film Festival ticket packages for locals

Salt Lake City Pass
Get priority access to all in-person screenings in Salt Lake City with just one pass for the entire Festival. Enjoy screenings of award-winning films, select screenings with live introductions and Q&As by filmmakers, short films and episodic programs with this pass.
Price: $550
Dates Valid: January 18–28

Salt Lake City Youth Pass
Take advantage of a special offer for attendees aged 18–25 (age verification required for purchase). This pass includes unlimited in-person screenings and priority access at Salt Lake City theaters for the entirety of the Festival. Enjoy screenings of award-winning films, select screenings with live introductions and Q&As by filmmakers, short films and episodic programs with this pass.
Price: $225
Dates Valid: January 18–28

Locals Ticket Package
Utah residents, this exclusively priced package is just for you. Enjoy early access to ticket selection and 10 screenings over the course of the Festival at a reduced price.
Price: $650
Dates Valid: January 18–28

More festival ticket packages are available on the festival’s website. Packages are on sale from now until January 5, 2024.

More about this year’s festival

The 2024 Sundance Film Festival runs January 18–28. Ticket packages can be purchased for the whole festival or just the first half (January 18–23) or second half (January 24–28) of the festival. Films will screen online January 25–28. Film premieres screen during the first half of the festival and screen only in-person. Awards screenings run January 27–28.

As we said, there is a lot we do not know yet about this year’s festival programming, which is slated to be revealed December 2023, but there are some big events and updates to keep an eye out for. Such as, the Sundance Film Festival Opening Night Gala: Celebrating 40 Years will take place on January 18, 2024. Tickets to this event will go on sale in November.

The 2023 Sundance Film Festival jurors and audiences have voted and today the festival announced the 2023 award winners during an event at The Ray Theatre in Park City. Among the films that came out ahead in the 2023 Sundance awards is Radical, the based-on-a-true-story film about a new teacher at an underprivileged school in Mexico picked up the Festival Favorite Award. The Persian Version— film that follows multiple generations of a large Iranian-American family with a secret—received both an audience award and an award for screenwriting. As far as the films that we might soon see on streaming services or get wide release in movie theaters, films in the horror genre still seem to steal the show at Sundance. 

Some 2023 Sundance films have already won big with industry deals for distribution. Some of the most lucrative deals include Netflix acquiring Fair Play and Apple TV picking up Flora and Son for about $20 million apiece. Fair Play has generated a lot of excitement at this year’s festival, writes Salt Lake’s Michael Mejia, “in part for the solid performances of its leads, Phoebe Dynevor and Alden Ehrenreich, as well as for its timely depiction of gender politics in a high-pressure corporate environment, where dominating everyone is the only path to success.” (Read his full review of Fair Play.)

Searchlight picked up the mockumentary Theater Camp for about $8 million, which also won a Festival award for its stellar ensemble cast. Theater Camp is an underdog story about an eponymous theater camp struggling to stay afloat, and inspire the misfit campers, after their beloved founder is hospitalized and management of the camp is transferred to her himbo son who knows nothing about theater. According to Salt Lake contributor Phillip Sevy, “what follows is a silly, heart-warming movie that succeeds on the strength and charm of its ensemble,” including Molly Gordon, Ben Platt, Noah Galvin, Jimmy Tatro, Patti Harrison and Ayo Edebiri. (Check out his full review of Theater Camp.) 

Netflix also picked up Run Rabbit Run and Amazon Prime Video acquired In My Mother’s Skin, two horror standouts at this year’s festival. Director Brandon Cronenburg’s horror film Infinity Pool arrived at the festival with a distribution deal from Neon and Topic in hand, and birth/rebirth will appear on Shudder (read Salt Lake’s reviews of Infinity Pool and birth/rebirth).Talk to Me will be distributed by horror powerhouse A24. “You can sum up Danny and Michael Philippou’sTalk to Me in two words: ‘gripping horror,’” writes Salt Lake contributor Jaime Winston, alluding to a ceramic hand in the film that allows a group of teenagers to interact with, and get possessed by, a ghost. (Read his full review of Talk to Me.) A24 also made a deal prior to the festival to distribute You Hurt My Feelings starring Julia Louis-Dreyfus, which is decidedly outside of the horror genre (here’s our review of You Hurt My Feelings).

The Eternal Memory picked up a Grand Jury award and was picked up by MTV Documentary Films. Other distribution deals include: A Little Prayer (Sony Pictures Classics), Passages (Mubi), Little Richard: I Am Everything (Magnolia/CNN Films) and Kokomo City (Magnolia Pictures).

2023 Sundance Grand Jury Prizes 

The jury and audience-awarded prizes amplify the fearless and dynamic stories across sections, with Grand Jury Prizes awarded to A Thousand and One (U.S. Dramatic), Going to Mars: The Nikki Giovanni Project (U.S. Documentary), Scrapper (World Cinema Dramatic) and The Eternal Memory (World Cinema Documentary), and the NEXT Innovator Award went to KOKOMO CITY. Check out Salt Lake magazine’s review of The Eternal Memory. The documentary, directed by Academy Award nominee Maite Alberdi, is a deep dive into the lives of Paulina Urrutia Fernández, an actress, activist and former Minister of the National Council of Culture and the Arts of Chile, and her husband Augusto Góngora, a Chilean journalist who reported on corruption and violence during Augusto Pinochet’s presidency, who has Alzheimer’s disease.

2023 Sundance Audience Awards

Voted on by the audience, Radical was granted the Festival Favorite Award. The Persian Version (U.S. Dramatic) and Beyond Utopia (U.S. Documentary) and Shayda (World Cinema Dramatic) and 20 Days in Mariupol (World Cinema Documentary also received audience awards. Salt Lake magazine’s Jaime Winston reviews Radical, voted the Festival Favorite, based on a true story of a new sixth-grade teacher at José Urbina López Elementary in Matamoros, Mexico, one of the most underfunded and poor performing schools in the country. 

2023 Sundance Awards for directing, screenwriting and editing

The Directing Award for the U.S. Documentary category was presented to Luke Lorentzen for A Still Small Voice. The Directing Award in the U.S. Dramatic competition goes to Sing J. Lee for The Accidental Getaway Driver. The Directing Award in World Cinema Documentary was presented to Anna Hints for Smoke Sauna Sisterhood. The Directing Award in the World Cinema Dramatic competition was presented to Marija Kavtaradze for Slow. The Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award was presented to Maryam Keshavarz for The Persian Version. The Jonathan Oppenheim Editing Award was presented to Daniela I. Quiroz for Going Varsity in Mariachi (U.S. Documentary). 

2023 Sundance Special Jury Awards

A World Cinema Dramatic Special Jury Award for Creative Vision was presented to Sofia Alaoui for Animalia, her feature film debut. The film follows Itto, a pregnant woman in Morocco from humble beginnings, who first adjusts to a new life among the wealthy and then a world invaded by aliens. Salt Lake magazine contributor Michael Mejia says, rather than a pure sci-fi or horror film, “Animalia reveals itself as a thoughtful, politically and ethically engaged imagining of the erasure of human dominance, of human motives, of the corrupt, or corrupted, nature of humanity.” Read his full review of Animalia. 

A U.S. Dramatic Special Jury Award for best Ensemble was presented to the cast of Theater Camp. A U.S. Dramatic Special Jury Award for Creative Vision was presented to the creative team of Magazine Dreams. A U.S. Dramatic Special Jury Award for Acting was presented to Lio Mehiel for Mutt. A U.S. Documentary Special Jury Award for Clarity of Vision was presented to The Stroll. A U.S. Documentary Special Jury Award for Freedom of Expression was presented to Bad Press. A World Cinema Documentary Special Jury Award for Creative Vision was presented to Fantastic Machine. A World Cinema Documentary Special Jury Award for Verite Filmmaking was presented to Against the Tide. A World Cinema Dramatic Special Jury Award for Cinematography was presented to Lílis Soares for Mami Wata. A World Cinema Dramatic Special Jury Award for Best Performance was presented to Rosa Marchant for When It Melts.

The award-winning films will screen in-person and online on Saturday, January 28, and Sunday, January 29. Tickets for award-screening films are available.

In the opening scene of The Starling Girl, 17-year-old Jem Starling, looks up at the sky and prays that people will see God through her and her actions. It’s a prayer of consecration and earnest desire to live her life in such a way that shows her devotion to her god. And that’s the central question at the heart of the film. Is living our lives truly and authentically a celebration of God’s creation or do we have to forfeit our lives in service to God’s other creatures?

Jem lives in a community that will seem eerily familiar to those of us who live in Utah. It’s a high-demand, fundamental religious community that allows for no other connections outside of the church. At 17 years old, she is on the precipice of “fulfilling her purpose” in life—i.e., getting married and having children. Modesty culture is heavily enforced. Public shaming happens regularly to keep people scared of stepping out of line. Music is controlled. Dance is monitored. Everything must be done with God and the church at the center. Any deviation is not tolerated and is excoriated as Satan’s control. Smoking and drinking are not allowed. Secularism is the greatest threat that could get between one’s self and God. Weighing heavily on the film is the idea that any action or thought that considers the well-being of one’s self is “selfish” and therefore cuts one off from God. The only way to be closer to God is to sacrifice any sense of self in service of others but mostly in service of their church. 

It’s against this stifling backdrop of control and dehumanization that Jem struggles to serve the two masters of happiness, love and fulfillment as well as the church. No one asks her what she wants in life. No one cares about her as a person. She is only her role. Until she meets Owen Taylor, the pastor’s older son who has just returned with his wife from a Missionary trip to Puerto Rico. Owen has experience outside of their small Kentucky town. He has ideas about how to find God and who God is that challenge the existing narrative of control and shame. He sees Jem as a person when they talk. He asks questions about who she is and what she wants to do. He proposes the idea that living our lives as we want—doing what brings us joy—is the highest form of worship. He gives her an avenue for consciousness and awakening—mentally, sexually, and spiritually. Everything that burns between them challenges everything she knows about God and yet she’s never felt more alive and closer to God. 

The Starling Girl hinges on that relationship and the dangers and freedom it brings. It’s a quiet, simple movie, grounded in restrained but incredible performances. Eliza Scanlen brings a fiery defiant light to Jem’s eyes, carrying the film in every scene. She’s a powerhouse of an actress and never once lets you forget the strength Jem carries inside her, regardless of how everything and everyone in her life is a threat to her happiness. Lewis Pullman portrays Owen and brings a quiet warmth and charm. The film doesn’t try to obscure the troubling power dynamics between the two or the fact that Jem is still a teenager while he’s in his late twenties. But the film doesn’t try to make a bold statement, either. It sets up the problematic and uneven social structures between men and women in this community to help us understand that even while rebelling against these confines, Owen and Jem still live within them. 

Jimmi Simpson plays Jem’s father—a man struggling to live a religious life while haunted by the ghost of his former life of fulfillment, success and fame that he gave up for God. A choice of self-sacrifice that has left him broken, drinking and taking pills in not-so secret. Wrenn Schmidt plays Jem’s mother—a woman whose entire existence is threatened by the struggles of her husband and oldest daughter. She is willing to sacrifice those relationships to reassure and validate her place in her small, confined and limited community. 

The Starling Girl is the feature directorial debut of writer/director Laurel Parmet. Parmet developed the script in the Sundance Institute Feature Film Program years back. Parmet’s work is sublime, understated and deeply affecting. She lets her camera hang on her actors and allow them to be in a scene, never rushing moments or lingering too long. The movie feels so real that its quiet, powerful moments are almost lost at times in the naturalistic flow of life. 

The result is a coming-of-age story that is incredibly specific but grounded in a world we all understand and see everyday. And though it didn’t come into the festival with the same level of buzz other features had, The Starling Girl is one of the best films of the festival. A meticulously crafted, reserved film that reminds us of the importance and power of independent cinema. It is a moving, indelible and subtle film that shows us that the most radical, most defiant and most disruptive thing we can do to systems of control is to live our life authentically and honestly. The film gently asserts that if we are creations of a loving god, then he created us to be happy.

The Starling Girl premiered in the U.S. Dramatic competition at the 2023 Sundance Film Festival.

Meet Augusto Góngora: Chilean journalist who reported on corruption and violence during Augusto Pinochet’s presidency, father of two and husband of Paulina Urrutia Fernández, an actress, activist and former Minister of the National Council of Culture and the Arts of Chile.

Augusto, who has Alzheimer’s disease, often can’t remember any of this.

The Eternal Memory, directed by Academy Award nominee Maite Alberdi, is a deep dive into Augusto and Paulina’s daily lives. Recent footage, much filmed at the height of the COVID pandemic, is mixed with footage of the couple’s and the country’s past. The film relates Augusto’s work writing about Chile’s cultural history that Pinochet attempted to suppress with his own memory loss.

“Without memory, we don’t know who we are,” he wrote.

That is definitely the case for Augusto, who often doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror. In the first scene, Paulina reminds Augusto of who she is and that they’ve known each other 20 years. She later explains they built their house together, helps him shave and shower, reads to him, and attempts to rekindle his memories of their past experiences. She also deals with Augusto’s erratic behavior, often late at night. We see how frustrating Augusto’s memory loss is for him, and how in-the-moment it seems when a painful memory of the past comes back. Balancing acting with caring for her husband and other responsibilities, Paulina’s frustrations come out as well. As much as The Eternal Memory is a story about the patient’s hardships, it’s about the caregiver’s struggles.

It’s also a love story. We learn how the couple met and became married, and share romantic moments with them. Love, it seems, is one thing that can trigger Augusto’s ability to recall his life.

Compelling and informative, The Eternal Memory serves as a great educational resource. Those with little exposure or knowledge of Alzheimer’s disease can see an undaunted example of the anguish it can bring. Unfortunately, it doesn’t inspire much hope for others facing the disease.

The Eternal Memory is screened in Spanish with English subtitles. It plays again on Jan. 26 at Redstone Cinemas and Jan. 27 at the Park Avenue Theatre in Park City. Visit Sundance’s website for more info.

To support research to help fight Alzheimer’s disease, join the Alzheimer’s Association Walk to End Alzheimer’s at America First Field in Sandy on Sept. 30. Registration is free, and donations can be made in any amount.

Find all our Sundance coverage from this year and year’s past. And while you’re here, subscribe and get six issues of Salt Lake magazine, your guide to the best of life in Utah

Fair Play, director Chloe Domont’s feature debut, has gotten a fair amount of talk at Sundance, recently picking up the first major distribution deal of the festival with Netflix. There’s good reason for the excitement, in part for the solid performances of its leads, Phoebe Dynevor (Emily) and Alden Ehrenreich (Luke), as well as for its timely depiction of gender politics in a high-pressure corporate environment, where dominating everyone, or trying to, acting as if you can—that is, being not just one of the boys, but the Man—is the only path to success. 

The film opens with a seemingly unexpected proposal, an offer of marriage, Luke to Emily, that plays out, strangely, like a negotiation, not for a mutually desired union, but for something more like a merger. It’s no spoiler to tell you that Emily says yes—though it does seem like there’s a chance she might not. Is it because she’s not sure about Luke? Maybe. Or rather it might be the fact that it’s a professional risk. They can’t tell anyone because revealing such an entanglement, socially sanctioned or not, would give an impression of bias, would introduce an imbalanced power dynamic, a hint of impropriety that might sink them both at the investment capital firm where they work, side by side, pretending they know nothing about each other’s personal lives. There’s a suggestion of ethics here, that the firm wants to provide a “clean floor”—in the words of its mob don-like leader, Campbell—for potential investors. But also we can read Luke and Emily’s caution as a desire to avoid revealing a potential weakness, something others might exploit. To announce their relationship (they already live together), even now, sealed by a ring, might make them prey, they worry, their jobs and their mutual future at risk should one half of the couple stumble into a costly mistake or some snare set by their conniving co-workers.

The computer-lined desks of the company will remind viewers of Oliver Stone’s Wall Street. Though the employees gazing into those monitors and gossiping crudely about each other are more diverse than in that 1987 classic, the nature of their dialogue and their jockeying for favor remain virtually the same. This and the fact that we still get mostly white men speaking reflects a telling lack of progress. As we learn, though, Emily has no trouble talking the talk as well as any of those men, and it’s notable that only when Campbell approaches her with his own professional proposal do we learn what a wunderkind she really is. To this point, Dynevor has performed humility as if her Emily has not yet done enough to earn notice, and so we understand her and Luke as relative equals—despite his inherent advantage as a man. But once Campbell recites Emily’s history to her, we understand the character’s modesty as her own performance, as intentional restraint, a strange move in a world that rewards loudly proclaimed, aggressive, masculine ambition. Is she trying to protect herself, Luke, both? Her late-night meeting with Campbell forces a decision that will require Emily to play her hand, in effect to become one of the boys if she wants to move forward.

In the aftermath, Emily and Luke’s relationship is strained to the point of breaking in scene after scene of more or less private shouting matches, full of wounding accusations and seeming truth telling. The emotional pitch hits its peak rather too early, so these confrontations feel almost repetitive well before we reach the last straw, in part because Ehrenreich’s Luke has made us wonder if this is really where we should have ended, in a feminist revenge tale, with Luke as Emily’s ironic antagonist. 

Fair Play seems to want us to see Emily as its sole protagonist, and perhaps hero, but, truthfully, the duo are the more interesting subject. And does Luke, as a character, not as a representative of masculine oppression, really deserve the turns the script gives him in the third act? Even in one of his worst moments (not the worst), stating in a cruel and terrible way that Emily will never be accepted as an equal among the upper echelons of power, we can’t miss that his point is an important revelation of a corruption of character Emily has not seen in herself, and that she won’t subsequently avoid. A couple of glimpses like this, of skepticism about the whole enterprise they’ve committed themselves to, is enough to make us wonder why Fair Play wants to make Luke the scapegoat for a firm and a society that may appreciate what it gains from Emily’s boldness and productivity but that will always exploit and humiliate her far worse than it would her fiancé. In the ending we have, what has Emily actually won? It’s not clear that the film really expects us to ask this question.

Rather, it seems like the more interesting story would have been to examine how both partners, trying to maintain their best intentions for each other, are compelled by circumstances they could walk away from to make difficult and self-destructive decisions over what they value more, each other or professional success in an exploitative industry. That is, while Fair Play’s interest in the injustices and violence of gender inequality is laudable, it’s missed a great opportunity to do that and also to more substantively critique a system—our system, The System—that depends on individuals and communities (colleagues, lovers, larger units of society) alienating and destroying each other for financial gain and shallow prestige.

There are moments, early on, in Infinity Pool where the score (brilliantly written by Tim Hecker) shifts into these discordant, disturbing notes while the camera pans across these beautiful locations along the beach and vacation paradise of the fictional state of Li Tolqa and your stomach turns and your skins prickles because you know something isn’t right here. 

But you don’t have to wait long to find out what’s wrong. And once things take a turn, they continue their downward spiral as you rush, breathless and dizzy to the conclusion. 

Infinity Pool follows a married couple—James and Em Foster (played by Alexander Skarsgard and Cleopatra Coleman)—as they travel to a tropical resort set inside an impoverished foreign country. James is a writer who has struggled to write a second novel after the failure of his first six years previous. He hopes this trip will reinvigorate his creativity, maybe his marriage and possibly his self. Once there, they meet another couple who come over uncomfortably strong and friendly. After spending the evening with them, they convince the Fosters to sneak out of the compound the next day and travel the countryside. Putting aside better judgment, they agree. After a day of eating and drinking (amongst other things) on the beach, they drive home in the dark.

And things go wrong. 

Without spoiling anything further in the movie, they come in contact with the justice system on the island—where things are very Old Testament. But the tourism board has implemented a policy that allows rich tourists to substitute punishment directly in favor of a by proxy punishment. And that lack of accountability and consequence spirals the movie out of control. 

Penduluming between scenic views and lush landscapes to hypnotic, colorful, drug-fueled trips at a faster and faster pace, Infinity Pool is hypnotic and unsettling. The film constantly pushes the boundaries of excess and content and sanity, while managing to walk the fine line between horror and exploitation. There were quite a few parts where I steeled myself for a turn too far that disconnected me from the movie, but they never came. In fact, each turn and twist and boundary pushed, drew me further into the movie. 

Brandon Cronenberg returns to the Sundance Film Festival after bringing 2020’s Possessor to the festival. There’s an incredible confidence and control that he brings with his directing to Infinity Pool. Everything feels precise and measured in a way that elicits brilliance instead of sterility. He moves the camera carefully through the scenes, ratcheting up anxiety and tension even in the most common of scenes. 

The cast does an incredible job but Mia Goth’s performance is a stand out. Really taking the horror world by storm with X and Pearl in the last year, Goth’s unusual look and incredible presence mesmerize you in this film. She, like the film, moves from sexy and alluring to unhinged and terrifying as time goes on. Like James Foster, we fall under her spell early on and find ourselves mired in extremity before we realize it. 

As the film progresses, characters adorn themselves in horrific masks worn by the resort’s local band. They use these masks to hide their identities as they indulge their passions and impulses—using the local customs and traditions to hide their true intentions and feel like it’s a persona they’re wearing. In the film’s most haunting visual sequence, Cronenberg plays with the idea that the masks aren’t superficial, but bone deep. That as we enforce the idea that the rich have no consequences for their actions, we create the monsters that terrorize us. 

Basically, Infinity Pool is the best season of White Lotus yet. 

And while the ultimate end of the film feels perhaps too clean and safe for the unhinged and harrowing rest of the film, it still leaves us in a place of deep dread, uncertainty and hypnotic confusion. This is the film I’ll be talking about for a long time from the festival.

Existing somewhere in a space between Waiting for Guffman and Wet Hot American Summer, Theater Camp tells the mockumentary story of a struggling summer drama camp that is on the verge of bankruptcy when its founder and director suffers a stroke and management is passed to her vlogging, alpha-bro of a son who has no connection or understanding of musicals, acting or summer camp. And what follows is a silly, heart-warming movie that succeeds on the strength and charm of its ensemble. 

When Joan (played by the ever-exuberant Amy Sedaris) suffers a stroke and ends up in a coma just before the start of a new summer at AdirondACTS, an independent and quirky theater camp, her son Troy (played by the brilliant Jimmy Tatro—go watch American Vandal on Netflix right now if you haven’t) has to step in and take over a business he has no knowledge about. Additionally, the documentary being shot about Joan has to pivot to cover the camp’s struggle to survive without its founder. Troy is a self-described “Crypto-Bro” (don’t worry, he, like us, has no idea what that means) and wannabe influencer who is always streaming from his phone to his fans. Coming to learn that the camp is in near financial ruin, he has to team up with the other counselors in one plan after another to try and save his mother’s legacy.

Theater Camp is the feature directorial debut of Molly Gordon and Nick Lieberman, from a script by them and Noah Galvin and Ben Platt (based on a 2020 short film of the same name), and does a good job capturing the zany feel of improvised mockumentary while still keeping the plotting and structure tight and momentum forward. Molly Gordon and Noah Galvin both made splashes in 2019’s brilliant Booksmart, while Nick Lieberman and Ben Platt have worked together on Ben’s music career. Their work behind and in front of the camera (Gordon, Platt and Galvin all have starring roles in the film) is seamless and works perfectly within the structure and approach of the film. 

No mockumentary can succeed without its cast, and Theater Camp’s strength is in its actors. Everyone comes into the film with incredible timing, charming performances and incredible chemistry. Jimmy Tatro and Noah Galvin were standouts to me with heart-warming performances and understated deliveries. No character is given a one-note role. 

And while Theater Camp is not uproariously funny, its simple approach is effective and charming. The filmmakers deftly pack a lot of heart into every character—including the menagerie of child performers—and give the film a fun, satisfying and moving finale. Everyone has their moments and arcs and the movie goes out on a high note. 

Bound to be one of the top crowd-pleasers at Sundance Film Festival this year, Theater Camp was acquired by Searchlight Pictures for $8 million from a bidding war ensured after the premiere, so everyone will be able to watch it later this year if they miss it during its Sundance times.

Actress Alice Englert’s first feature Bad Behaviour is, natch, a quintessential actor’s film. Englert wrote and directed, and also co-stars alongside Jennifer Connelly, who seems born for role of Lucy, Englert’s character Dylan’s mother. As the film opens, Lucy is on her way to a quasi-silent retreat in Oregon, presided over by the enigmatic guru Elon Bello (Ben Whishaw). Before completely losing service and her right to speak or use technology, Lucy reaches out to her somewhat estranged daughter, who’s on set in New Zealand, a stunt person in what appears to be a sci fi or fantasy flick, tasked with training a lead character on how to properly choke and pummel her. Maybe all Lucy really wants to do is let someone connected to her know where she is and that, should anyone try to contact her, she’s not dead. Or maybe she’s just, or also, testing the waters to make sure that someone who should care about her still does. Lucy is a mean person, cruel, not just because she says what’s on her mind, but because she says it with an atavistic malice. She can make the question “Do I remind you of your mommy?” feel like a threat. It is, in a way, particularly if you don’t know Lucy, if you don’t know how she’s likely to follow up on your answer.

Being a mother is a particular sore spot for Lucy. She’s been quite bad at it, as we understand from Dylan right from that first call. But it’s not necessarily that Lucy doesn’t know this, or that she doesn’t know how a mother should be. It’s perhaps more the problem that she didn’t have a very good role model, and she’s let that burn her up, though we learn little about her deep past. Rather, Bad Behaviour revels to the point of wallowing (a good wallow—uncomfortable, hilarious and penetrating) in the difficult work Lucy tries to do to untangle the seemingly irresolvable knot that’s strangled her emotional, intellectual and behavioral impulses. Is she a misanthrope? Perhaps, and maybe it’s strange to say, but her cruel victories and equally cruel failures are mesmerizing, a delight, as performed by Connelly. 

Close-ups are plentiful in the film, as are long scenes and takes, which give the actors ample time to supplement the smart and cutting dialogue with illuminating, frequently complex expression. The setting of a self-help retreat is easily satirized, but it serves here, too, as an opportunity for scripting several teeth-gratingly embarrassing and earnest acting exercises, the most extended of which is a roleplay in which one partner is supposed to act as mother to a baby before switching roles. It’s absurd when Elon describes it (he participates, too), but seeing it play out in real time, a viewer feels a bit like a participant: skepticism is overwhelming at first, but by the time the final step of saying something to your mother you wish you’d said comes along, there’s real anticipation that something important is about to be revealed. Maybe this is a moment, too, when skepticism is still lingering, that we feel a touch of impatience, wondering if the time the film takes in such scenes is asking a bit too much, if it’s all going to be worth it. Just stick around. Bad Behaviour is also full of weird, amusing, and horrifying jolts.

In a sense, Bad Behaviour is not really about its overarching narrative, which is, nevertheless, pretty satisfying. It’s about the exploration of its characters, about the generosity of scenes and situations that give the performers the opportunity to stretch out in those skins. Elon becomes a bit of a sidenote, narratively, once the scene shifts and the film focuses more on the current state of affairs between Dylan and Lucy. But Whishaw delivers so many tasty nuances, indications of self-doubt, self-serving fear, deep confidence, irritation, perhaps a touch of madness, that he remains with you as if he’d had the screen time of a lead character. Some of Elon’s traits exist in the script, no doubt, but, as with Connelly’s equally complex Lucy, the final result is both evidence of long conversations with the director-screenwriter and an astonishing display of the actors’ intelligence and training. There are layered performances across the cast, the kind we don’t get to see very often, even in many of the most celebrated indie and arthouse films. That’s not to say that Bad Behaviour overall is the equal of the best of these. But as a showcase for acting, it’s hard to beat.

Sundance Film Festival screenings of Bad Behaviour: Thursday, January 26 at 9:00PM at The Park Avenue Theater, Park City