Directors: Ashley O’Connor, Joe Stankus
Writers: Ashley O’Connor, Joe Stankus

Synopsis: It Goes That Quick is neither confessional nor exposé but rather something singular and rich—a timeless mosaic of American life, filmed over the course of eight years within one extended Northeastern network of aunts and uncles, parents and grandparents, adults and newborns in which everyone plays a dramatic role that’s no less constructed for being real.

With their feature film, It Goes That Quick, married filmmakers Ashley Connor & Joe Stankus treat their audience to something innately special. It Goes That Quick is the unique type of film which remains elusive while attempting to define it. In some ways, it’s an anthology of short films glued together. Another way of viewing it is as a full-length feature broken out into distinct chapters. Some could even perceive it entirely as a documentary or extended home video. The beauty of this film is that it exists at the center of a Venn diagram between all these descriptors. But in all honesty, this project more than likely exists in a space outside the confines of any of those cinematic styles. The space it’s inhabiting allows the potential for something fundamentally more unique, exciting, and profoundly moving. Within that enigmatic space is where Connor & Stankus operate. It all culminates in It Goes That Quick being a strikingly beautiful meditation on life captured through cinema.

It Goes That Quick is largely made up of short films Connor & Stankus created with their family members over the past decade. Alongside these brilliantly mundane and charming shorts are interstitials documenting pivotal moments in the direct lives of Connor & Stankus: their wedding, a lovely looking trip to Paris, the birth of their child. But even attempting to parse through separating pure documentary footage and the loosely fictional counterparts seems like a complete folly. Each moment is designed to feel completely authentic, and the large ensemble of family members Connor & Stankus included in this film are effortlessly entertaining. Even amidst the staged sequences, there is something so innately human to be recognized in every single decision from any individual. Each longing glance, deep sigh, or wonderful smirk after saying “I love you” feels fully authentic; and that’s because it is. Just because cameras are rolling, even for a fictional project, doesn’t mean that what’s being captured isn’t based completely in reality. It’s one of the fundamental beauties of art. We can uncover what’s real through whatever is being produced. And again, with such effortless DIY-style, it’s relatively easy to completely lose any semblance of these sequences being loosely staged in the first place.

The film begins with a prologue which feels as if a family member started recording solely because it was a humorous dinner story they wanted to retain forever. It’s also quite the profound crystallization of the entire film’s thesis. A member of Connor’s family is discussing playing craps in Las Vegas, and was befuddled at how she “lost a shitful of money in one minute.” When questioning how that could have happened, a stranger told her, “It goes that quick.” It’s a simple statement when taken at face value. But it’s one of those phrases we hear in our daily lives that can offer such a profound revelation when really thinking about it in the grand scheme of things. So much of It Goes That Quick largely captures the mundane. They are simple activities which are wholly relatable: going to the supermarket, driving somebody around as a favor, leaving work after a long day. These menial tasks are experiences we may often dread being required to do in the moment. They can wear us down to the point of exhaustion and sometimes blur our daily reality. But self-reflection allows us to see that this is ultimately part of what constitutes life. It’s these moments that make up a large part of our lives, and before we know it, we can do them less and less of our own accord. Eventually, those menial opportunities cease all together. It’s a staggering realization that carries quite the impact as we periodically check in with the filmmakers’ families throughout the course of the film and their aging lives. 

Despite being a “narrative film,” said narrative exists purely amongst the experiences of these daily realities. So it’s easy to often find yourself getting lost in the houses and stories of these family members. With each random memory or item tracked by film equipment, Connor & Stankus paint a fuller picture of who these family members are when the cameras aren’t rolling. Everything not directly presented in the film is just as important to the fabric of its central idea. Whether Connor & Stankus are fully in control of the narrative or not is irrelevant. But in the moments where they reveal their command in staging to the audience, it’s often startling and grounding. The initial reveal of their directorial footprint during the prologue is particularly striking, and is as clear-cut an example as any that they are innately skilled filmmakers who can present deeply evocative imagery within any setting or scenario.

If It Goes That Quick was pure fiction, one could imagine a critic calling the mumblecore style script trite. Because of Connor & Stankus crafting this project as a living document and ode to family and life itself, this takes on an almost essential quality of sorts. It’s an ever changing and evolving testament to the people around us. It’s warm, endearing, and nostalgic for a time when things were simpler. And yet, even with the raw pain present in certain sequences, it will forever stand as proof of life and love. There are countless moments in the film which inherently invoke a self-reflection of our own lives. Whether or not we have directly experienced the scenarios in the film, we can inherently relate to them through familial ties and shared experiences amongst loved ones. Whether it be a gathering of celebration or responsibility, one of the ethereal interstitials distilling a potent experience to its bare essence, or just scrolling the Internet or silently pondering while looking out into the yard, It Goes That Quick captures a personal experience and opens it up for the world to feel wholly and deeply. As any audience member might begin to reflect on the personal moments they would include within a film like this, it serves as a beautiful reminder that every possibility serves as a beautiful contribution to the long movie that is our distinct life.

It Goes That Quick celebrated its world premiere at First Look 2026.

Grade: B+

Director: Ramzi Bashour
Writers: Ramzi Bashour
Stars: Dale Dickey, Lubna Azabal, Daniel Zolghadri

Synopsis: Mother and son hit the road west, stopping at diners, motels, and hot springs along the way.

Ramzi Bashour’s Hot Water is a film that has an undeniable heart of gold. Although that’s not a quality audiences might initially expect upon meeting the central characters of this road trip film. But before any road trip shenanigans, Hot Water opens to a sense of complete serenity. Layla (Lubna Azabal) is swimming in a pool next to an aquatic lamaze session. Regaining her breath, she looks over at the expectant mothers with a sense of longing. But there’s something else which appears to be hidden in her gaze. Azabal conveys a look towards this group of “just wait and see” when it comes to their soon-to-be motherhood. She should know: she’s raising her son, Daniel (Daniel Zolghadri), all on her own, and he has been held back in school more than once. Not to mention her feelings of loneliness due to being away from her mother and sister in Beirut for quite some time. And very quickly, we understand why Layla repeatedly returns to soothing exercises such as water sports and guided meditation. She is a woman who is absolutely fed up. Layla appears exhausted, beyond stressed by the students in her university class, and on top of it all, she’s 3 weeks into an attempt at quitting cigarettes. Her blunt demeanor is immediately funny and understandable, and Azabal absolutely nails the stark delivery of her character from the very outset. 

Layla deserves all the peace in the world. But Bashour’s film has alternate plans for her. While the scenario of the film may be detrimental to Layla’s peace, it’s to the audience’s benefit. As we come to learn, Daniel has been expelled from school for a fight that broke out after his hockey game. Due to the potential risk of missing graduation, Daniel’s estranged father calls to offer Layla and his son a potential solution: if the two can drive from Indiana to Colorado, he can pick up Daniel and take him back to Santa Cruz to finish out the remainder of the school year and graduate on time. It’s a tough situation delivered as plainly as possible. It makes Layla’s frustrated outburst at Daniel’s father quite funny. But there’s also a clear-cut empathy in how Bashour and cinematographer Alfonso Herrera Salcedo capture Azabal grappling with such potential upheavals. It’s the first instance of many where Bashour blends very funny moments of his script alongside the more somber truths of life.

And so, this unfortunate situation makes way for a road trip that is an absolute delight for the audience. The road trip subgenre allows such freedom to a filmmaker, and Bashour takes full advantage of every aspect of being an on-the-road filmmaker. First and foremost, this is a dazzlingly picturesque trip. The wide open vistas speak to Daniel’s potential paths. For the audience, they appear stunning. For Daniel and Layla, they clearly represent opportunity. But that also may invoke a sense of foreboding and worry about what the future could hold for them both. Is this road trip the last chance they’ll have to spend a significant amount of time together for quite some time? With so many quiet stretches of driving and no phone to distract Daniel, there’s nothing to do but look out at the road stretching on for hundreds of miles ahead and ponder what lies not just at the destination, but beyond it. This road trip is taking place while both Daniel and Layla are absolutely going through it. And along the way, they are being forced to react and reflect on their lowest moments. As the old adage goes, “the only way forward is through.” While Layla’s internal struggles are a bit less fully realized than Daniel’s, Bashour’s script still fills this mother/son relationship with plenty of genuine emotion.

As heavy as this film may seem, it’s still also quite fun. For starters, Zolghadri plays a low-energy hooligan so incredibly well. You can tell that Daniel largely means well despite the trip being spurred on by a violent outburst. It’s clear that whatever happened must not have been understood with complete context. He is so effortlessly funny, and fills the quiet moments of the car ride with a random chaos bound to keep audiences consistently laughing. This charm even works its way into Layla’s mind from time to time. Despite her frustrations at how the trip begins panning out, her love for her son and his absurd sense of humor is palpable. She may freak out when it comes to some of his more desert-dry humor or alarming comedic actions, but they balance each other out a ton. It makes for a genuinely delightful pairing of Daniel as the funny man and she as the foil. But Bashour smartly recognizes he can get even more mileage out of Azabal by having her also turning on some comedic chops. As such, despite the emotional turmoil both mother and son are individually reckoning with, the two clashing personalities are able to shift and vibrate off one another. It works wonderfully well in the film’s favor.

From an elite Dale Dickey appearance to an absurdly funny visual motif which pops up across the entire film, Hot Water finds several ways to have fun despite the tough circumstances it revolves around. Our first impressions of Layla may likely lead us to believe she’s the embodiment of a rigid, type-A mother. But when placed in the claustrophobic quarters of a Subaru with Daniel, the walls begin to break down. She still has those motherly tendencies that will wind up any son, just as Daniel does things which would understandably drive any mother up the wall. But Azabal and Zolghadri both allow these frustrations to further humanize their characters and create moments the audience can perfectly relate to and be deeply charmed by. In the end, it would appear that reflecting on tough circumstances is merely a way to remind us that we sometimes have to make the best of a crummy situation. Hot Water uproots its characters from the setting they thought they belonged in, and then crafts a dual coming-of-age story as both mother and son try to find the sense of place that truly works best for them. Even if the thematic mileage may vary for some, it’s tough to deny the charisma present on screen.

Hot Water celebrated its New York premiere at First Look 2026.

Grade: B-

Director: Rachel Lambert
Writers: Rachel Lambert
Stars: Chris Pine, Jenny Slate, Abby Ryder Fortson

Synopsis: Noah’s settled life caring for his anxious daughter and medical practice is disrupted when his high school ex Rebecca returns. Their old spark remains, making them question if love deserves another chance.

An initial glance at Rachel Lambert’s Carousel might lead some to believe they’re in store for a light romantic comedy or a somber independent drama. And as the film begins to play out, the associated qualities of those genres do make themselves apparent. But Carousel also contains so much more. And perhaps this film’s most impressive quality is its fully assured refusal to ever rely solely on that exact familiarity. Lambert indicates an intentional reticence to protect her characters from the very outset. It takes a fair amount of time before audiences ever know the slightest thing about central characters Noah (Chris Pine) or Rebecca (Jenny Slate). Though it’s important to make clear that observation shouldn’t be taken as a claim that either of these characters’ interiority are underserved by the script. On the contrary, most of the characters throughout this film feel as if they’ve already experienced the moment in their lives which would make the perfect film. That’s to say that everything in Carousel feels as if it’s a coda by design. Noah and Rebecca have each experienced their fair share of life, and they’ve come out on the other side damaged, feeling alone, and keeping their guards all the way up. These reservations are what allow the romance and central drama of Carousel to play out so admirably. Even through the occasional narrative stumble, Lambert crafts something that’s difficult to pull your gaze away from and it remains largely distinct compared against films of a similar nature.

One key element to the transfixing nature of this film is its dazzling cinematography, shot by cinematographer Dustin Lane. The complete naturalism present in the performances and script extend to the visuals themselves. And it’s through the cinematography wherein the irony of this film largely reveals itself. Lambert and Lane expertly capture the beauty existing everywhere amidst the mundane. Noah and Rebecca are just too closed off to fully realize it, though they may occasionally catch glimpses of what lies beyond the pain that has sealed them off emotionally. The film opens with Noah taking his daughter, Maya (Abby Ryder Fortson), to school. Along the way, it’s clear Noah wants to make some sort of small talk, but is too reserved or unsure of how to reach out in the first place. It’s a shockingly brisk exchange to watch play out, especially from a movie star like Pine. So often beloved for his quick wit and classically cool charm, Pine and Lambert have formed a character that has believably exchanged a large majority of that charisma for something innately raw. Of course, Pine does still have charm when the film calls for it. Yet it’s more of a full-on dad charm that is largely relegated to funny bar chatter and sloppy dinners on the couch while watching basketball. It’s a joy to experience. And Lambert clearly built quite the trust between both key actors of this film, as Slate turns in an equally mesmerizing performance audiences likely won’t be expecting. 

Known for her distinct delivery and brash comedic sensibilities, Slate handles this dramatic and withdrawn character turn incredibly well. It’s legitimately striking how clearly the pain Lambert imbues these characters with completely mutes the personas of both her very famous stars. This trust between actor and writer/director carries Carousel a long way, and it largely allows the most engaging sequences of the film to work so well. As the two rekindle their previous lives and relationship somewhere in the tone between hesitantly awkward and passionately excited, Lambert treats her audience with crumbs of the lives they once led. These moments of Noah and Rebecca dredging up the past are held on way longer than most films would ever be comfortable with. The editing style makes it so that all the awkward silences and despondent contemplations on what to say next stay part of the scene. There’s no escaping the discomfort, or the pain, these characters are expressing to one another. Some bits of honesty they can laugh off; others bring forth tears and held-back shouts from the feelings of isolation and betrayal. This patience can be found all across Carousel, allowing it to unfold similarly to how reality does. There’s no immediately apparent driving force, and while that can sometimes stall the film, its heights take great advantage of the excellent performances grounding it in these extended realistic moments.

A film largely made up of fragments, extended emotional setpieces aside, Carousel does indeed come together to form a larger picture. These glimpses into the internal lives of Noah and Rebecca offer a somber look at the consequences of fearing emotional fallout. Both of them would rather retreat within themselves then potentially face any pain again. Can anybody blame them? Lambert shows such empathy to these characters, and allows them the space to be fragile. Her script contains many realistic kernels of truth, largely spoken around until they come pouring out of her characters. Carousel is a quaint film that cuts deep in this regard. There’s rarely ever full-blown melodrama or exaggerated gestures that bring this romance into typical genre territory. And yes, it can often feel like the film is largely keeping its audience at a distance. But is that not the standard response for people suffering emotional turmoil? To shut everybody else out and be left hearing nothing but our own heartbeat, hoping for a sense of serenity amidst so much chaos and potential pain. The recurring motif of heartbeats in Carousel is tremendously effective, and it culminates in a moment that expertly pays off.

Two of the extended sequences in Carousel which make up the finale could both operate as dazzling short films. They complement one another so beautifully, and any steam the film might have lost along the way comes back in full force. Lambert takes her fly-on-the-wall directing style to new heights here, capturing a complete breakdown, but also complete vulnerability. Both of these emotions from her characters have rarely been captured so clearly as they are in the last 15 minutes or so of the film. The climax simmers with a realistic passion, captured in a wonderful slow zoom. In a single take, Pine and Slate just build unfathomable amounts of tension, and Lambert sends her audience out on the highest of notes. It’s a moment which makes it worth getting to know Noah and Rebecca a bit more over the course of 100 minutes. Much like those two looking for something greater than themselves, as a viewer going into any relationship or even a film, we just have to have faith that giving ourselves to something larger than we can fathom will turn out all the greater for us.

Carousel celebrated its New York premiere at First Look 2026.

Grade: B-

Director: Damian Mc Carthy
Writer: Damian Mc Carthy
Stars: Adam Scott, Peter Coonan, David Wilmot

Synopsis: A horror writer visits an Irish inn to scatter his parents’ ashes, unaware the property is said to be haunted by a witch.

Panic Fest 2026 has now come to a close. The amount of films I watched in a week and a half is pretty amazing. I think the films that open and close the festival are usually the heavy hitters, and I’m happy to report that the closing film, Hokum, was not a disappointment. Some moments in the film felt like that jolt you get when a chill hits the back of your neck. Actually, they gave you the feeling of playing hide-and-seek as a kid — hiding so well that you could see people walking past your spot, hoping they wouldn’t find you.

Damian McCarthy is now three features deep into his career. He loves telling stories that focus on family trauma, ghosts, and the comeuppance of people who do evil things. Hokum stars Adam Scott as Ohm Bauman, a lonely, reclusive, alcoholic author. One night, his deceased parents’ remains and belongings are delivered to his house. As he goes through their things, he discovers that his mother requested their ashes be spread at a tree near a hotel they spent a lot of time at. Ohm travels to the hotel in Ireland, where he meets a group of quirky and seemingly harmless people. He treats them like they’re beneath him because they live in such a remote area. During his stay, he’s told a story about a witch that haunts the hotel. He thinks it’s all nonsense and doesn’t believe anything the residents tell him. After a failed suicide attempt, he begins searching for the missing person who saved his life. Unknowingly, this journey will bring back horrific memories from his past, uncover secrets in the present, and change him as a person.

Adam Scott’s performance as Ohm is one of his most layered yet. On the surface, he’s a lonely, alcoholic asshole who isn’t interested in much of what anyone has to say. Beneath that, he’s someone carrying a lot of built‑up trauma. The employees at the hotel all have different qualities and characteristics that make them interesting to follow throughout the film. Florence Odesh plays Fiona, the hotel associate Ohm connects with as soon as he arrives. She doesn’t take his attitude seriously and continues to be a good listener and a helpful presence. We also meet the silly town drunk and psychedelics expert Jerry (David Wilmot). He has conversations with Ohm about life, alcohol, and the people at the hotel. They form an unlikely bond after Fiona goes missing following the incident where she and coworker Alby (Will O’Connell) saved Ohm from committing suicide.

One of my favorite things about the movie was the moody, dream‑like cinematography from Cole Hogan. McCarthy and Hogan also collaborated on McCarthy’s last film, Oddity, so it’s no surprise they were able to deliver another film filled with beautiful, haunting, and nerve‑wracking images. McCarthy has created his own universe with his past two movies. Fans will remember the haunted hotel bell that rings in Oddity and the ghost of the bellhop who died in an Irish hotel. It’s a no‑brainer that these things are connected. It’s always cool to see filmmakers connect their films through items, music, or characters.

In the third act, you can see a few problems with the movie, including the need for more details about Ohm’s trauma, more information about the ghosts in the hotel, and more insight into Ohm himself. There has to be more to him than just being a sad, alcoholic, wise‑cracking author. These issues didn’t take me out of the film as much as I expected. I took a few days to process the movie before writing this review, and after thinking about the ending, I have a great idea of where McCarthy could take his next narratives if he decides to continue connecting them to his most recent films.

Grade: A-

Director: Spider One
Writer: Spider One
Stars: Brandon Scott, Krsy Fox, Torio Van Grol

Synopsis: Successful horror screenwriter Adam struggles for inspiration until a terrifying nightmare about a masked killer sparks an idea for his new script. As he delves deeper into the story, the line between reality and fiction begins to blur.

Being a writer has its pros and cons, just like every other profession. You can be on a hot streak for a month or two, and then suddenly find yourself in a minor state of depression. The protagonist in the new horror‑comedy Big Baby goes through the highs and the lowest of lows as a professional writer named Adam Lewis (Brandon Scott). Adam is fresh off the release of a film he wrote, but the reviews are less than favorable. His girlfriend Kate (Krsy Fox) does everything she can to be supportive, but he continues to stress himself out and put himself down.

One night, after a lot of drinks, he begins having dreams about a man wearing a baby mask and a onesie, clutching an axe in his hands. Adam finds himself crying out to the hulking figure in his dream. The figure enters the couple’s bedroom and strikes Kate in the chest. Adam wakes up in a panic—terrified, yet excited to piece together what in the world he just dreamed about. He treats Big Baby as a new muse, but the more he dreams about him, the more he feels like those dreams are coming true.

The madman behind this flick is Spider One. To most people, he’s the former lead singer of the rock band Powerman 5000, but he’s also Rob Zombie’s younger brother. I had no idea they were related until the Q&A after the screening. The plot of this movie came entirely from Spider One’s mind. In a 2025 interview, Spider said he “wanted to make this a full movie after it was featured as a fake movie showing on a TV screen in his 2022 feature film Allegoria.” His script does a great job weaving between Adam’s dreams, his writing process, and what’s happening in reality. It’s always clear when Adam is dreaming about Big Baby, when he’s writing, and when real events are unfolding.

A meta aspect of the movie that I found hilarious was Adam listening to a podcast trash his new film. Soon after, he approaches the hosts in a coffee shop and lets them have it. Jordan Elsass and Radek Lord’s portrayal of the horror podcasters had me analyzing how I talk about media on podcasts and whether I can be as annoying as they are.

This is an independent film, and you can feel the tight-knit connection between its crew members. Krsy Fox wears a lot of hats (actor, editor, producer, co-writer). As Kate, she doesn’t play the typical girlfriend role—she uses her brain, thinks for herself, and doesn’t just accept Adam’s “everything is ok.” The chemistry between her and Brandon Scott is relatable, and their banter is charming. Her editing style is heavily inspired by Edgar Wright films and her past collaborations with Spider One, featuring lots of zooms and whip pans.

The supporting cast ranges from Adam and Kate’s hilarious and supportive friends James (Tori Van Grol) and Patrice (Kate Freund) to cameos from David Howard Thornton, Tracie Thoms, and Chaz Bono. Yes, you read that right—Sonny and Cher’s son. He delivers a hilarious performance as one of Big Baby’s victims in Adam’s script.

Spider One’s film career is quite different from his brother’s. He has directed several indie films and tends to work consistently with the same people on his sets. This has allowed him to make movies for the love of the art. He’s not trying to conquer major studios, and I really respect that. Big Baby was the opening screening at Panic Fest, and its meta elements resonated with me and many other audience members. Starting the festival with a film this strong gave me high hopes for the rest of the lineup.

Grade: B

Director: James Ross II
Writer: James Ross II
Stars: Jasmine Matthews, RJ Brown, Sally Stewart

Synopsis: After her friend vanishes, Riley must confront the demon from her night terrors that may have crossed into reality, while facing her own tragic past.

The best thing about film festivals is discovering a film from a talented director you know nothing about. It isn’t a secret that there’s a lack of Black filmmakers in the horror genre. They haven’t been able to tell the stories they want to tell, or their stories have been told by white filmmakers — with Black characters often killed first or reduced to the “magical negro” trope. Director James Ross II has two horror short films under his belt, and now he has a feature film recently acquired by Shudder to add to that.

Ross’ new feature film Parasomnia was screened at Panic Fest as part of Shudder’s block of programming. He’s one of the few Black directors or writers with a project at this year’s festival, so it felt only right to step out and show my support. The movie follows a woman named Riley (Jasmine Matthews), who struggles with sleep — something many people can relate to. Her bedtime rule is that she must fall asleep after everyone else in the house, a habit rooted in a traumatizing childhood experience. This routine is a mess for her boyfriend Cam (RJ Brown), who otherwise seems like the perfect fit for her. Riley is surprised by her foster brother David (Stephen Barrington) and his girlfriend for her birthday. At the end of the night, everyone goes to sleep, and Riley begins to have dreams of being chased through an abandoned building. She then sees her father stabbing her mother in a dark cell. The night terrors she had as a child are returning with a vengeance.

I love when a filmmaker is inspired by other films, isn’t afraid to show it, and incorporates those influences into their work. Ross pays homage to several films, and he does it in ways that aren’t over the top or corny. Riley can fall asleep, enter her dreams, and uncover things about her past she didn’t previously know — a plot detail clearly inspired by A Nightmare on Elm Street. The third act introduces elements of voodoo and spellwork reminiscent of Eve’s Bayou. Riley’s first-person chase sequences echo Paranormal Activity. These breadcrumbs show that Ross knows his stuff when it comes to film history.

Parasomnia runs 1 hour and 25 minutes. I enjoy a tight runtime, but not when it takes away from the plot. The movie moves so quickly that, while taking notes, I could tell things were missing from the final cut. We don’t get any flashbacks with Riley and her foster parents; seeing all three of them alive together would’ve given us a better sense of her home life. We’re introduced to the mysterious villain, The Seer, in the third act through Cam’s mother — a voodoo priestess hell-bent on getting revenge for her husband’s death. It would’ve been more effective to receive these plot points earlier, perhaps through Riley’s research, and bring Cam’s mother into the story during the second act. These issues could’ve been improved with a script that didn’t rush through plot points or introduce major characters so late. Some visual effects weren’t executed well, and the story left a lot to be desired. These are things that can be improved upon in future projects.

Ross is a skilled filmmaker with a promising future, but this movie ultimately ends up being a Shudder release that didn’t fully work for me.

Grade: C