How many times has the story of Robin Hood been told? How many books have been written, how many movies made about the outlaw? With The Death of Robin Hood, writer-director Michael Sarnoski goes back to the source. Rather, the supposed sources. The earliest stories of Robin Hood were ballads told by commoners across England. These tales tell of an outlaw who does not give anything stolen to the poor, instead taking pleasure in killing the rich. In the medieval ballad “Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne,” Robin beheads Gisborne and sticks his head on a spike.

This is the Robin Hood that Hugh Jackman is playing, and he’s rarely been better. Set in 1247 A.D., the film finds the titular non-hero a bitter old man living in the mountains away from society. His life is a cold, harsh scourge punctuated by a never-ending litany of sins from his past. Little John (a great Bill Skarsgård), Robin’s sole companion, is determined to find new adventures that will be told by many, evolving into something grand and brave. This misbegotten notion leads to further bloodshed and results in Robin Hood’s stay at a mysterious priory wherein he heals fresh wounds. The prioress is played by Jodie Comer, once again fitting perfectly in a medieval setting (see: The Last Duel). She befriends Robin, who lies about his identity. Soon he is forced into a paternal role when a young girl (Faith Delaney) arrives on the island hurt and alone. Is some version of redemption possible for a brute such as this?

Sarnoski is concerned with the act of storytelling, and each story evolves (or devolves) over time. It’s a fitting focus for a myth such as Robin Hood. The Death of Robin Hood is most directly adapted from the likeliest 17th-century ballad “Robin Hood’s Death.” There is a version of the same story in the final verses of “A Gest of Robyn Hode,” one of the earliest (and longest) Robin Hood tales. Much is changed in this new interpretation, but the general structure remains. Throughout, each character has a story to tell. Murray Bartlett has a standout monologue in the middle of the picture, playing a leper who serves as the boatman between the island the priory is on and the mainland. It is so comforting to watch great performers tell great stories to each other. And while this reads as an almost condescendingly simple observation, it cannot be overstated how effective these moments are.

Not since Richard Lester’s underrated Robin and Marian has there been a more clear-eyed, metatextual investigation into the stories that comprise the legend. Since the dawn of man, there was a story to be told. Humans are desperate for them, be they orated around a fire or delivered in 15-second clips on their phone. Good stories have convinced people to do bad, horrible things. They’ve convinced others to pursue great things. Once upon a time, a college professor of mine was teaching Miguel de Cervantes’ Don Quixote. During one lecture, he told us that the book became so popular in Spain at the time of its initial release that some people fell out of the windows of their homes because they didn’t want to stop reading even as the sun set. They extended their copy of the book out the window closer to the sun, just to read a page more before it was dark. It’s a good story about a famous book about telling stories. Is it true? Who knows? Does it matter? The Death of Robin Hood reckons with this last question, and it’s a thrill to watch.

The Death of Robin Hood opens in theaters on Friday, June 19.

The post The Death of Robin Hood Review: A Portrait of the Outlaw as a Bald-Faced Lie first appeared on The Film Stage.

If 2026 was, probably, not a banner year for Sundance—nor the ideal send-off to Park City, but let’s not get into that now—the best titles still made a fine impression. Standing among our favorites was Georgia Bernstein’s feature debut Night Nurse, which fused erotic tension with appreciably obscure character work—a film, one might say, that percolates rather than bludgeons. IFC will release Bernstein’s film on July 10, and there’s now a trailer exemplifying its ratcheting tension.

As John Fink said in our review, “The second collaboration between Bernstein and Cemre Paksoy (after their series following a professional cuddler), Night Nurse is a fascinating character study that can suggest an early Atom Egoyan film with notes of Michael Haneke. The film’s production design and aesthetic embrace a 1980s style, itself harkening back to Douglas at the height of his success. It’s never quite clear what kind of man he was before his health started to fail, but it’s easy to imagine Douglas as the kind of psychopathic lawyer or business shark who only shows teeth when about to bite. Night Nurse is a study in susceptibility and codependence as Eleni, early in the picture, becomes fixated on gestures of care. It’s not quite clear what her objective is until the final act, where perhaps all our suspicions are confirmed.”

Watch the preview below:

The post Cemre Paksoy’s Hands Are Tied In Trailer for Georgia Bernstein’s Sinister Sundance Favorite Night Nurse first appeared on The Film Stage.

Though among the great films of its time, proof-positive of the Italian studio system’s genius, and a peak for both director Luchino Visconti and star Marcello Mastroianni, White Nights has never quite occupied the canonical position it so severely deserves. With Visconti’s take on Dostoevsky’s short story of the same name (later interpreted to exemplary effect in Robert Bresson’s Four Nights of a Dreamer and James Gray’s Two Lovers) receiving a 4K restoration by Cinecittà and stateside release from Janus Films (ahead of the inevitable Criterion upgrade), things might soon change. Ahead of a July 24 opening at Film Forum, there’s a new trailer.

Here’s Janus’ synopsis: “Marcello Mastroianni, as a lonely city transplant, and Maria Schell, as a sheltered girl haunted by a lover’s promise, meet by chance on a canal bridge and begin a tentative romance that quickly entangles them in a web of longing and self-delusion. Luchino Visconti’s White Nights, an exquisite adaptation of Dostoyevsky’s novella, translates this romantic, shattering tale of two restless souls into a ravishing black-and-white dream.”

Find preview and poster below:

The post Marcello Mastroianni Yearns In Trailer for 4K Restoration of Luchino Visconti’s White Nights first appeared on The Film Stage.

Here I’m Alive, Joshua Z. Weinstein’s follow-up to his 2017 breakout Menashe, is an intimate and claustrophobic mosaic of New York City life, a film that is both challenging and subtly rewarding. Embracing a micro-budget aesthetic that recalls Sean Baker’s early works Take Out and Prince of Broadway, it also utilizes the minimal sound design and narrative restraint of Amir Naderi—a staple of the early days of the Tribeca Festival (where I saw his films Sound Barrier and Vegas: Based on a True Story). Here I’m Alive tackles a New York of hustlers and shut-ins: another story that takes place in the shadow of the city’s more glamorous zip codes.

Cast via social media and filmed over the course of two years, Here I’m Alive is the rare neorealism-leaning work that also explores screens—often a tool for escapism—as the objects of obsession. They dominate the lives of each character, whether through their roles in the gig economy or attempts to find connection through formal arrangements and informal support systems.

Here I’m Alive follows four disconnected threads, largely over the course of one evening: Felix (Caleb Zuzga), a young man looking for a sugar daddy to take care of his needs; Eddie (Eddie Torrengra), a Venezuelan migrant food-delivery worker who weaves in and out of everyone’s life; Majoria (Cheyenne Gallagher), a gamer who finds community online without leaving their apartment; and Yanni and Krystaly Figueroa, a pair of OnlyFans content creators who dream of hosting a podcast where they can turn the tables and objectify the men who audition. What they have in common is the lack of a viable plan for success: Felix fantasizes about jaw fillers while Yanni and Krystaly have no real strategy for their show beyond the hope that it will be their ticket out of working at Target.

We’re introduced to this world via Majoria, who is seen watching venture capitalist Marc Andreessen explain his debated essay “The Techno-Optimist Manifesto.” A hermit who only leaves his apartment—bathed in the blue light of LED strips and computer screens—to get his prescriptions refilled, Majoria is not living in a techno-optimistic future; instead he spends his time in Discord servers dedicated to helping others facing mental health crises, and most of the evening video-chatting with a young man (Alex Fox) on the brink of self-harm.

Meanwhile, Felix finds a likely mark on SeekingArrangement and has dinner with an older man who proceeds to break down the flaws in his plan. Felix hopes to score enough money for jaw filler, but the man points out the catch: Felix won’t have the money to maintain this look without regular, expensive injections.

Like the film’s characters, Weinstein and Brian Perkins’ screenplay is seemingly aloof while remaining firmly in control. Each scene is a lively slice of New York—the kind of city where it’s possible to get into a random conversation or altercation on the street without a second thought. Some characters chase online clout—a path that looks easier than it actually is—while others refuse to leave their bubbles until forced to. While the film starts with the thesis of Andreessen’s essay—which essentially advocates for allowing AI to move quickly and violate civil liberties in the hope that it might cure cancer—it is clear that technology may not actually save anyone.

Here I’m Alive is a raw work, often quite challenging, far from perfect. At times it suggests a gallery or an interactive online film as the ideal medium, but perhaps that is the point: simply being alive is messy.

Here I’m Alive premiered at the 2026 Tribeca Festival.

The post Tribeca Review: Here I’m Alive Is a Raw, Intimate Look at Messy New York Lives first appeared on The Film Stage.

Note: This review was originally published as part of our 2025 Fantasia coverage. The film arrives on Netflix on June 12.

More than the similarly mythologized Monsters, Inc., the first stop-motion feature produced in Mexico (courtesy of the Cinema Fantasma studio) recalls an old childhood favorite from the ’80s: Little Monsters. Just like that Fred Savage vehicle, writers-directors Los Hermanos Ambriz (Arturo and Roy) have created a means to connect reality to nightmare so a human might embrace the latter’s mischief, mystery, and terror that the former rejects. The 19th-century-set I Am Frankelda is thus born from a young woman’s mind (Mireya Mendoza’s Francisca Imelda) as a manifestation of her aspiration to become a horror writer––a dream met with major pushback from publishers, society, and family alike.

Her sole fan? Prince Herneval (Arturo Mercado Jr.) of the nightmare realm’s Topus Terrentus kingdom. Just like his royal parents, he was born to serve as their home’s protector by playing the strings of their castle’s spider tree and implanting terror inside sleeping human minds. It’s a symbiotic relationship maintained ever since a monster of old dared conquer the real world, only to be defeated by the great Ceimuth (Carlos Segundo). It was a foolish urge for power: spooks literally cannot exist without human belief supplying them life (think Tinkerbell), and reality should never seek to extinguish the spooks when nightmares are crucial for imagination, processing trauma, and progress.

There’s admittedly a lot of exposition to wade through at the film’s start, but it all clicks into place rather quickly so the second half’s drama can unfold unencumbered. The gist is that Herneval’s parents are fading away in their attempt to absorb as much of their world’s destruction as possible. While they’re aware of the cause, politics and a tenuous peace between the Seven Clans ensure proof remains elusive. Procustes, the Royal Nightmarer (Luis Leonardo Suárez), is too cunning to let his orchestration of their demise be revealed. He does his job poorly, blames an easily targeted common enemy, and positions himself as the only person fit to restore former greatness. Sound familiar?

We receive resonant and timely themes as a result. The propagandized misinformation of Procustes sows the seeds that humanity causes their plight when it’s really his creative bankruptcy’s inability to scare the necessary levels of fear out of them. That leads to plagiarism by entitlement (see the Generative AI debate), considering Procustes promises a masterpiece his talents could never create, before positioning himself to steal and weaponize another’s work for his plan’s advantage. And he does so by denigrating progress so he can reconsolidate the power time has redistributed from him. It’s the same discouragement Francisca has battled her entire life: an oppressive conservatism borne from jealousy that seeks to destroy the dreams it could never conjure itself.

It’s the old guard clawing desperately to maintain relevancy as the new guard prepares to take over. Regardless of how the bond between Herneval and Francisca began, their connection is key to the salvation of both species and thus the source of power necessary to bridge their worlds again. He needs the stories her realm discounts as “low art” to strike the fear Procustes is simply too out-of-touch to deliver (hence his pivot to conquering reality by force). She needs his fandom and support to rejuvenate the passion and belief in herself that has propelled her into becoming a woman ahead of her time at home and an unlikely savior abroad. They must only loosen Procustes’s grip to do so.

Psychological and emotional warfare is tough to combat, though. Especially for the optimistically pure at heart. Herneval has such faith in truth winning out that he simply cannot fathom the lengths Procustes will go to risk everything for himself. He doesn’t understand just how efficient hate and greed are at dismantling a system of democracy from the inside simply by omitting a few bits of relevant context from half-truths; see America’s scorched-earth military strategy always radicalizing more enemies than it defeats to keep indoctrinating the populace with the animosity necessary to profit from the feedback loop. Saving lives is never as sexy as violent rebellions against one’s self-interests.

That all this is at the back of a stop-motion musical only speaks to the relevancy of I Am Frankelda as a piece willing to speak truth to power while still providing an infectious level of fun. Being students of Guillermo del Toro surely helps in this respect––there’s no one better at fusing social commentary to genre thrills. And while the ending might feel like an attempt to sell franchise potential, it’s actually just leaving a narrative opening to the studio’s 2021 miniseries Frankelda’s Book of Spooks, for which it serves as a prequel. This is a story-first project utilizing everything at its disposal to enchant, entertain, and inspire with catchy songs, three-dimensional characters, and impeccable craft.

Stay for behind-the-scenes end-credit reels to fully comprehend the artistry’s scale. We see a crew member sitting below the castle’s staircase and the two-headed, bird-like clan leader is shown to be taller than its animators and almost twice as long, allowing the puppets for Herneval’s owl-man and Francisca’s transparent consciousness to fly around it during the climactic battle. The slow disintegration of the King and Queen into batted stuffing is ingenious and the horror-fused character design excels by leaning into the grotesque nightmare fuel of The Dark Crystal while still approaching the cutesy polish of A Nightmare Before Christmas. Sign me up for whatever comes next.

I Am Frankelda screened at the 2025 Fantasia International Film Festival.

The post I Am Frankelda Review: Mexico’s First Stop-Motion Feature Speaks Truth to Power first appeared on The Film Stage.

In a political climate as antagonistic toward immigrants as any I can recall, deeply personal stories like Karla Murthy’s The Gas Station Attendant remind us of the hardship and passion required to make it in the United States. One would hope these films are treated as stories of survival rather than stories of exceptionalism. The framing device of Murthy’s film—an extended phone interview with her father, H.N. Shantha Murthy, during the nights he manages a gas station—turns this immigrant story into a recounting of how far he has come, yet how restless his existence remains despite the proverbial “American Dream” having touched him a few times.

The narration and editing only offer surface-level exposition of the immigrant experience: the “striver” mentality, the identity crisis, and the ripple effects of the passive-aggressive stereotyping common in the United States. These are themes any immigrant from the Global South would immediately recognize. Murthy’s narration feels rudimentary, never moving past obvious symbol-object connections, making this essay film feel more like an academic thesis than the work of a seasoned artist. What elevates The Gas Station Attendant is a litany of home-movie footage that juxtaposes life in America with her father’s stories of his life in India (of which there is no material). He recounts having to sleep on the streets while working in restaurants in Bangalore and other cities; we then see him sleeping in his car between late shifts at the gas station. It’s a different kind of struggle, but the leap to the “First World” feels tangibly disappointing.

The film’s most potent moments occur when the story is framed less as an immigrant narrative and more as a tale of a familial relationship. Murthy’s mixed Indian and Filipino heritage is unique, but it isn’t deeply explored beyond home movies and photos of her mother and sisters, which paint a picture of a family more in the spirit of the American “melting pot” than most. Murthy’s relationship with her father is sweet and open, filling the movie with a rare warmth that comes from sincerity and a willingness to share vulnerable moments. If the immigrant experience says anything about the fabric of this country, it is found in those moments of exposure, where the country feels open to opportunity but is hiding many webs and many spiders.

Murthy’s editing utilizes extensive voiceover and archival footage to supplement the filmed material. There isn’t much of a definable rhythm or structure to the sequencing; instead we have the phone conversations between Murthy and her father as a compass for what comes next. Certain segments, such as Murthy’s explanations of her college years and reasons for leaving home, feel awkwardly placed. Similarly, the unsubtle markers of newsreel audio—drifting in to accompany video of Gandhi’s funeral with commentary on who Gandhi was—suggest a lack of confidence that the audience would understand these images.

Its perspective on the immigrant experience rings as intended for those who have never met an immigrant or remain skeptical of their place in this country. Even with the sense that Murthy doesn’t fully trust her own images to convey ideas, it resonates as a deeply personal story. The Gas Station Attendant carries the significant weight of relaying an important message about the American immigrant experience within a dangerously regressive political climate.

The Gas Station Attendant opens in theaters on Friday, June 12.

The post The Gas Station Attendant Review: A Compelling If Formally Unsure Immigrant Story first appeared on The Film Stage.

With filmmakers from around the world descending on Manhattan as the 25th anniversary of the Tribeca Festival kicks off, we’re thrilled to announce that The Film Stage will be sharing exclusive photos of directors, stars, and crew as they premiere their latest work.

As captured by photographer Daniel Dickerman, our gallery includes Lilly Wachowski, Martin Scorsese, Robert De Niro, Simon Pegg, Alison Brie, David Cross, Tom Sturridge, Tim Blake Nelson, Tony Kaye, and many more filmmakers, actors, and behind-the-scenes crew.

Check out photos below by scrolling through galleries (with more to come) as well as on our Instagram, and follow Daniel on Instagram and visit his site. Our complete festival coverage can be found here.

Lilly Wachowski (Bound: 30th Anniversary)

Martin Scorsese, Robert De Niro, Simon Pegg, Alec Baldwin, W. Kamau Bell, and Clifford Ross (Taxi Driver: 50th Anniversary)

Alison Brie, Tom Sturridge, and Alex Vlack (The Revisionist)

Ellie Sachs and David Cross (Lucy Schulman)

Tim Blake Nelson, Grace Caroline Currey, Michael Gallagher (The Leader)

Tony Kaye (Humpty Dumpty X)

Carlos Key, Kalijah Rowe, Rose Badiru, Michael C. Liu, Leann Gardner, Claire Levesque, and Jenna Shen (Kingston)

Betsey Brown, Tori Lancaster, Imani Jade Powers, Cheyenne Cage (Mother Future Self)

Gwenlyn Cumyn, Justine Nelson, Julian Richings, and more (Turn It Up!)

The post The Film Stage’s 2026 Tribeca Festival Portrait Gallery first appeared on The Film Stage.

Marking the feature directorial debut of Greg Vrotsos (whose acting credits include Twin Peaks: The Return and Orange Is the New Black), Situations is an unflinching drama-comedy of love and ambition following an L.A.-based photographer drifting through Silver Lake’s creative chaos three months after a painful breakup.

Following its world premiere at the Oldenburg Film Festival and U.S. debut at The Downtown Festival in New York, Situations was acquired by Utopia’s arthouse, boutique, and self-distribution imprint Circle Collective. Ahead of a theatrical and event-screening tour, whose next stop will be screenings in the film’s hometown of LA this month (at Gardena Cinema this Thursday and Brain Dead on June 26), we’re pleased to exclusively premiere the first trailer.

Vrotsos stars in the film alongside P.J. Byrne, Melora Walters, Gino Vento, Fiona Dourif, Katie Parker, Fernanda Andrade, George Basil, Gabrielle Maiden, Augie Duke, Mia Danelle, Fox Sinclair, Jonathan Baker, Jake Szczepaniak, Nicholas Morbitt, Jhemma Ziegler, Morgan Lester, Mike Lane, Amanda Pizziconi, Benedict Samuel, and Tony Kanal.

Here’s the synopsis: “Three months after a painful breakup, a Los Angeles based photographer drifts through Silverlake’s creative chaos—dodging well-meaning friends, career pressures, and fleeting flings—until an unexpected connection forces him to confront what he truly wants from love, art, and himself.”

“Situations was born in the summer of 2021, inspired by my own return to the unpredictable world of dating in Los Angeles,” said director Greg Vrotsos. “Like many, I once imagined a simple, settled life—but LA has a way of rewriting our stories. This city, with its palm trees, wild sunsets, and endless dreamers, became the backdrop for a journey of self-discovery and connection. Dating here isn’t easy. We juggle ambition and intimacy, often convincing ourselves we’re too busy or too independent for anything more. But beneath the surface, we’re all searching—for love, for meaning, for a sense of home. With Situations, I wanted to capture the real lives of people navigating love and ambition in LA. It’s a film about chasing dreams, making mistakes, and growing in unexpected ways. My hope is that you’ll see a bit of your own story reflected on screen—and leave thinking about your own ‘situations,’ past, present, and future.”

See the exclusive trailer below:

The post Exclusive Trailer for Greg Vrotsos’ Feature Debut Situations Follows a Journey of Love and Ambition in Los Angeles first appeared on The Film Stage.

16 years after David Fincher and Aaron Sorkin explored the makings of Facebook in The Social Network, Mark Zuckerberg’s empire has eroded much more of our way of life, hence the opportunity for a companion sequel has arisen. This time around, Sorkin takes directorial duties, with a cast including Jeremy Strong (as Zuckerberg), Mikey Madison, Jeremy Allen White, Wunmi Mosaku, Betty Gilpin, Billy Magnussen, and Bill Burr. Ahead of an October 9 release, Sony Pictures has now dropped the first trailer.

Here’s the synopsis: “A companion piece to the hit film The Social Network, Sorkin’s original screenplay is based on the events that gave rise to the Wall Street Journal’s shocking exposé The Facebook Files. The film is inspired by the true story of how Frances Haugen (Madison), a young Facebook engineer, enlists the help of Jeff Horwitz (White), a Wall Street Journal reporter, to go on a dangerous journey that ends up blowing the whistle on the social network’s most guarded secrets.”

See the trailer below.

The post The Social Reckoning Trailer: Mikey Madison, Jeremy Allen White, and Jeremy Strong Lead Aaron Sorkin’s Sequel first appeared on The Film Stage.

One of the most powerful, important qualities of international film is its ability to slice through language and cultural boundaries to reveal what unites us. Regardless of flags, food, or faith, we all share a common humanity and, tragically, common discrimination. The brave souls who dare follow today’s current events will be familiar with routine reports of innocent people herded into groups that are stereotyped and blamed for society’s ills.

One of the tactics-du-jour for scapegoating governments is the demonization of migrants and anyone who has the nerve to look or sound like them. With Promised Sky, French-Tunisian director Erige Sehiri offers an intimate view from the diverse perspectives of those caught in the mess of systemic prejudice, and how difficult it can be to play fair when the deck is stacked against you. 

Though uneven at times, strong performances and a ripped-from-the-BBC story make for a heartbreaking reflection on the challenges of being moral in an immoral place. Promised Sky’s glimpse of the uncertainty ingrained into the lives of a vulnerable population is set in Tunisia, yet it’s unnerving how seamlessly it could take place in the United States.

Sehiri’s second feature follows three women on three different paths while all living under the same roof. That roof belongs to Marie (Aïssa Maïga), a pastor and former journalist whose humble abode doubles as a house of worship. While the roof doesn’t truly belong to her, it’s her lease and her rules. Occasionally at odds with those rules are her niece Jolie (Laetitia Ky), who studies at the university, and Naney (Debora Lobe Naney in her debut), a streetwise hustler. All four have dark skin, identifying them as part of Tunisia’s French-speaking, sub-Saharan (read: Black) population, which is governed by the Arabic-speaking, light-skinned majority. Though the three are not refugees in transit to Europe, they get swept up in the government’s crackdown on illegal immigration.

The film opens with the trio bathing Kenza (Estelle Kenza Dogbo), a girl too young to understand the horrors of the capsized boat she’s survived. She’s asked her age, home country, and family name––none of which she can answer. Kenza only shares her name and a few horrifying details of the boat’s demise in the naive, matter-of-fact manner that kids do. 

The faithful and honest Marie already has her hands full; struggling to keep her small congregation afloat as authorities target worship groups who serve the migrant population. She acts as a bank for those unable to open accounts because of their immigration status, and has to smile and politely deal with her light-skinned, neglectful landlord who feels he already does enough by sticking his neck out and renting to her.

The life Marie has built is so fragile that even Kenza’s tiny presence feels as if it could shoot cracks throughout its surface. Kenza becomes yet another ball for Marie to juggle as she grapples with the dilemma of whether to take in the girl for good or follow the law and turn her over to the state. This decision is further complicated by an underdeveloped plotline of a child Marie lost, for whom Kenza becomes a replacement.

As Marie fosters her besieged faithful, Jolie and Naney bop through the party scene and get passed over by taxis who prefer light-skinned fares. By day, Jolie is a dedicated engineering student from a middle-class family who has to assuage her father’s fears over TV reports of sub-Saharan Africans being hunted down. “It’s only for those here illegally,” she tells him. Jolie prefers to live in the student dorm where classmates can help with lessons that are often only taught in Arabic, though her father feels she is safer with Marie.

For three years, Naney pounds the streets trying to earn enough to support her quickly aging daughter. Via tragic video chats on her tiny phone, Naney asserts some motherly advice after her daughter’s first period and makes sincere but broken promises about coming home for the holidays. One of the most engaging aspects of Sehiri’s film is the relationship between Naney and her partner-in-crime Foued (Foued Zaazaa). Together they scheme and con through their days while commiserating in their shared experience away from their children. “Distance kills love,” moans Foued. In a memorable scene, they both exuberantly glide through a parking lot on an electric scooter Foued has brought Naney for her birthday, only to reveal it’s just a rental.

Sehiri makes clear the prejudiced divide between the two groups. “Are you not African, too?“ Marie asks her landlord when he qualifies the cake she’s making an “African cake.” The tension increases as the grip of the state grows tighter. Despite having her official student card, Jolie is jailed, Naney warns others simply out on the street that the police are patrolling,  and Marie’s landlord becomes more concerned with her worship group. Throughout the increasing pressure, the image of Tunisia increasingly looks like our own country’s slide into xenophobic authoritarianism. The most clearly reflective moment is when a television report accuses the migrant population of (sound familiar?) eating cats.

Journalism and art bring nuance and empathy that counter the easily digestible rhetoric. Sehiri’s initial interest in depicting the sub-Saharan community in Tunisia happened to coincide with the President Kaqis Saied’s European-sponsored clampdown on immigration. Sehiri tucks the story into the injustice to ask the question: how much faith or hope can one be expected to conjure under these conditions? As our own President follows the same playbook, Promised Sky could prove just as relevant an American story as it is Tunisian.

Promised Sky opens in theaters on Friday, June 12.

The post Promised Sky Review: A Heartbreaking Drama That Hits Home first appeared on The Film Stage.