film

It’s pronounced “human.” Yet writer-director Siân Heder acknowledges that the unusual spelling of the title of her new movie, “Being Heumann,” is something people might give a puzzled second look, unsure of how to say it and possibly dismissing it altogether.

Which, the more she sat with it, made it perfect as the title for a portrait of real-life disability rights activist Judy Heumann, who, while being in a wheelchair, made herself undismissable.

More specifically, the film looks at the pivotal 1977 protest in which Heumann led a group in a 26-day sit-in at a federal office building in San Francisco until the government began enforcing Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 — the first federal law that recognized disability as a civil rights category.

“The fact that her last name was ‘human’ has so many beautiful layers of meaning,” says Heder, 49, during a recent interview in Los Angeles. “I think Judy was asking for the world to see disabled people as human beings who were worthy of rights and being looked at and being included.”

A world premiere and the opening-night selection of this year’s Toronto International Film Festival, which begins on Thursday, “Being Heumann” will hit theaters Nov. 6 and begin streaming on Apple TV Nov. 13. It is also, crucially, Heder’s first film since 2021’s “CODA,” the bittersweet drama about a young woman in a Deaf family (the title is an acronym for “child of Deaf adults”) that won three Academy Awards including adapted screenplay for Heder and best picture.

Actor Ruth Madeley and filmmaker Siân Heder during production on “Being Heumann.”

(Apple TV)

In Heumann, a wheelchair user after contracting polio as a child, Heder found a subject who was in the process of discovering herself as a leader: learning when to hold firm and when to cede ground and empower other people. And for someone who was grappling with the aftermath of unexpected success, that felt familiar.

“I think I was making a movie about myself, honestly,” Heder says. “When you’re moving forward on a massive project or a movement or anything, there’s a necessary drive and ambition and focus that is needed. And if you look at any major change that’s happened in human history, it takes a certain kind of person to push that through. I’m not identifying myself with great leaders of the civil rights movement, but directing a movie is a similar thing.”

Heder is tucked into a quiet corner of a busy coffee shop in L.A.’s Eagle Rock neighborhood, where she has long lived. She is in the process of moving from one historic house to an even older one a few blocks away. Heder didn’t want to disrupt the schooling of her two young children, ages 10 and 12, and has become too enmeshed in the area to want to leave it.

“There’s definitely an element of: ‘She manipulated everyone with that movie. She made us all cry and that’s why she won,’” Heder says of “CODA,” her Oscar-winning best picture. “I was an indie filmmaker that was compelled to tell that story.”

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

Community is a word that comes up often over the course of a conversation with Heder, who has a warm manner and a quiet self-possession. Though “CODA” may have brought her wider attention, she was far from a novice by the time she made that film. She won a Peabody Award as a writer on the series “Men of a Certain Age” and was a writer, director and producer on the acclaimed “Orange Is the New Black.” She expanded her 2006 short film “Mother” into her first feature “Tallulah,” about a young woman who takes a baby from a reckless mother and tries to pass it off as her own. It premiered at Sundance in 2016.

Winning the Oscar created changes in her life both big and small. Heder at first kept it on her desk at home, but had to move it because she began to feel the statuette’s crossed arms quietly judging her as she worked. When she drove herself to the Spirit Awards the year after “CODA’s” triumph and spontaneously gave a ride to an afterparty to Maggie Gyllenhaal and Ebon Moss-Bachrach, Heder suddenly realized her 10-year-old Subaru wasn’t going to cut it anymore.

“I have a nicer car now,” she says, laughing at the memory. “It’s baby steps.”

The day after the Oscars, Heder recalls that she couldn’t stop crying, all the pressure built up from months of campaigning events and Q&As finally letting itself out.

She says two things changed almost immediately after winning the Oscar. One was a sense of expectation, wanting to make the most of whatever the moment might allow.

“This was not a part of my plans,” she says. “I didn’t ever intend to have so many eyeballs turn to me and go, ’What are you doing now?’”

The second was simply the volume of material and opportunities incoming. Heder says she met with Marvel “so many times” about different projects but none of them felt right. As an independent filmmaker “you’re always pushing against the no,” she puts it, moving projects forward against all odds. But now she felt she had to be the resistance, the one to ask whether something was worthwhile.

“Suddenly there are a lot of voices chiming in too because your reps have an idea of what you should do next and the industry has an idea of what you should do next,” Heder says. “And it was really important for me to center myself back in a feeling of: I’ve always been drawn to stories because they move me. And that hasn’t changed.”

Her Oscars triumph was also the night of the notorious Will Smith-Chris Rock on-stage slap, which overshadowed coverage. Heder is online enough that she knows that some film fans would want an asterisk next to the Oscar wins for “CODA,” as if to note some sort of COVID-era exception for the first film from a streaming service to win Hollywood’s top award.

“There’s definitely an element of: ‘She manipulated everyone with that movie. She made us all cry and that’s why she won,’” Heder says with a edge of defiance. “I was an indie filmmaker that was compelled to tell that story. And then audiences embraced that story and that story took off in a way that was unexpected and surprising even for me.”

Siân Heder holds her Oscar for best adapted screenplay for “CODA” backstage during the Oscars in 2022.

(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)

Heder had been developing “Being Heumann” before “CODA” was released. A friend encouraged Heder to see the 2020 documentary “Crip Camp,” which includes Heumann as a subject, and the filmmaker was so struck by that story, she followed up by reading Heumann’s 2020 memoir.

She sent Heumann a cold email expressing interest in the book. As it turned out, Heumann was deciding that very day who should direct a movie of her life. Heumann gave the filmmaker a last-minute chance to pitch herself. After saying she’d cast authentically disabled performers as she did on “CODA,” Heder got the job.

Heder would work for two years on researching and developing the project with Heumann, interviewing dozens of people involved in the actual Carter-era protest. When Heumann died unexpectedly in 2023, Heder did not think she could continue, but it was “Crip Camp” co-director James Lebrecht who convinced her otherwise.

“I think Judy’s death, which was sudden — it made me feel like she had left her legacy in my hands,” remembers Heder.

After developing other scripts post-Oscars that never quite became her next film, Heder eventually found herself in the enviable position of having two projects greenlit at once: “Being Heumann” at Apple and an adaptation of Gabrielle Zevin’s popular novel “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow” at Paramount.

As she was trying to make a decision, she went to a meeting with several other directors about the relaunching of the Village Theater in Westwood. She found herself having coffee with Guillermo del Toro and asked him how he decided between potential projects.

“And he said, ‘Make the movie that can’t get made without you,’” she recalls. “And that was very clarifying for me. When you are the element that gets that story told, it takes on an importance and urgency.”

As can often be the case, Del Toro’s advice confirmed what she already felt and she began to move forward with “Being Heumann.” (She is currently prepping “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow” so there will not be another five-year gap between releasing films.)

“I was having a rare moment of power in the industry to push something forward,” Heder says, “and it felt like there was a path to go make a big paycheck and have that kind of jump up, or I could use that moment of power and success to try to push through the hardest project I could think of. It was in that moment, after ‘CODA,’ where I really realized: I could make this incredibly difficult movie that no one might make.”

Andrew Pilkington, from left, Siena Rafter, Charlie Rush-Reese, Dylan O’Brien, Roberta Colindrez, Ruth Madeley and Madeline Delp in the movie “Being Heumann.”

(Apple TV)

Following what Heder describes as “the casting Olympics,’ she arrived at BAFTA-nominated actor Ruth Madeley, a wheelchair user, to play the lead role. “Being Heumann” was shot in Toronto, largely on a soundstage built to stand in for the San Francisco federal office building where the sit-in took place.

“Hollywood might be the least accessible industry out there,” Heder notes while beginning to explain the accommodations that needed to be made for a cast that included performers with a wide range of disabilities. Custom-built trailers were created and the set had to be made accessible in ways that a filming location typically is not. An accessibility team oversaw everything, from large-scale logistics to the personal needs of individual background actors.

Rather than a more conventional biopic, Heder wanted to tell the more specific story of the 504 sit-in, building out an ensemble of characters around Heumann.

“I said, “It’s almost like ‘Bad News Bears’ and ‘Dog Day Afternoon’ together,” says Heder. “There’s an underdog-sports-team feeling and bank-heist-gone-wrong.”

But a filmmaker friend asked her: Is making movies about disability now her “thing”? It is a question Heder had already considered.

“Of course it was on my mind if it starts to feel like: Oh, is Siân Heder a social justice warrior who’s just out to try to make these movies that have some kind of message behind them,” she says preemptively. “But I think this is just a great story. Outside of disability, outside of anything else, it is a great story.”

Heder remains interested in stories about outsiders, about class and people generally ignored by or on the fringes of society. And it remains important that she herself feel a part of a larger community in her life and her work.

“My daughter said to me the other day, ‘Mom, I think you’re the right kind of famous because you are important to people who know who you are, but you can still just be in the world and be anonymous.” And I think there’s something true about that.”

Her daughter has obviously inherited Heder’s deep well of empathy, one that is more concerned with bringing new, unseen stories to the screen than with the pursuit of cool points or pure fame.

“‘Earnest’ has become a dirty word,” says Heder. “And what earnest actually means is direct and truthful.”

TELLURIDE, Colo. — The Telluride Film Festival has always enjoyed keeping a secret. Tucked away in the Colorado mountains with nary a red carpet or paparazzo in sight, the low-key film festival doesn’t announce its lineup until the day before opening and surprise additions have long been a fixture of the event.

But even by Telluride standards, organizers went to unusual lengths this year to keep their biggest surprise under wraps. They had carved out a prime Sunday evening slot for a world premiere that, fingers crossed, would remain unknown until the audience was seated inside the theater. Festival director Julie Huntsinger offered only a few clues beforehand. The film involved some “very known names,” she told The Times. “Do not miss it. Your jaw will be on the ground for the entire length of the film.”

For three days, trying to crack the mystery became Telluride’s unofficial parlor game. Was it Aaron Sorkin’s “The Social Reckoning”? Denis Villeneuve’s “Dune: Part Three”? Alex Gibney’s Elon Musk documentary “Musk”? By Sunday, the mounting speculation had become fodder for jokes: Introducing his new movie “Club Kid” earlier in the day, writer-director-star Jordan Firstman announced that the evening’s TBA would be a newly restored print of Jerry Seinfeld’s 2007 animated film “Bee Movie.” “Just kidding,” he added. “I love Jerry.”

The festival kept the suspense going right up to showtime. Before entering the Werner Herzog Theatre on Sunday evening, hundreds of moviegoers were required to lock their phones in pouches to prevent spreading the word. Inside, they were warned that security guards equipped with night-vision goggles would be watching for anyone who managed to keep a phone accessible.

Taking the stage, Huntsinger made one last plea for secrecy. “What happens in Telluride stays in Telluride,” she told the crowd, before bringing out Nathan Fielder, the deadpan comic mind behind the reality-bending television shows “Nathan for You,” “The Rehearsal” and “The Curse.”

What Telluride had been guarding so carefully was “You Can See Everything,” a nearly three-hour documentary about convicted Theranos founder Elizabeth Holmes, co-directed by Fielder and documentary filmmaker Lance Oppenheim. The film, which A24 will release theatrically in October, had been made largely in secret over three years.

“For those of you who don’t know who we are and are disappointed, I apologize,” Fielder, joined onstage by Oppenheim, told the crowd to laughs. “But hopefully by the end of the film, you’ll be slightly less disappointed.”

The movie begins 34 days before Holmes is due to report to federal prison, with Fielder, Oppenheim and a small crew given extraordinary access to her life with her partner, Billy Evans, and their young children. Holmes and Evans embrace what they call “radical transparency,” opening their home to the cameras in hopes of convincing the filmmakers — and eventually the world — that the public has fundamentally misunderstood her.

But as anyone familiar with Fielder’s reenactment-heavy work can imagine, “You Can See Everything” quickly becomes something far stranger than a conventional documentary. Fielder finds himself drawn from behind the camera into the story, struggling to determine whether Holmes and Evans are being candid with him or manipulating him. From there, the movie takes a series of increasingly surreal turns, including elaborate reenactments involving a Hollywood actress (her arrival is too good to spoil) that further scramble the line between reality and performance.

During a post-screening Q&A moderated by Emma Stone, who co-starred with Fielder in the darkly comic A24 series “The Curse,” Fielder said that his own inability to get a firm grip on what he was witnessing became one of the forces driving the project.

“We’re all smart and we’re really working at the top of our intelligence,” he recalled thinking as he and the crew tried to make sense of their time with Holmes and Evans. “Why can’t we make sense of what’s happening in this house?”

The project began, appropriately enough, with a magic trick.

Oppenheim said he and Fielder were at the Magic Castle in Los Angeles several years ago when a magician asked the audience to name a celebrity. Someone called out Elizabeth Holmes. Afterward, Oppenheim told Fielder he had heard through a friend of a friend that Holmes was looking for someone to document her life.

Fielder had read John Carreyrou’s “Bad Blood,” the bestselling 2018 account of Theranos’ rise and collapse and initially saw little reason to make another documentary about Holmes.

“I thought the story was really fully told,” he told the Telluride crowd. Holmes, however, had largely disappeared from public view, and Fielder was curious about what she might have to say for herself.

Meeting her only deepened that curiosity. Sitting across from Holmes, Fielder said, he found her “sort of honest and charming,” even as his brain was warning him, “No, don’t trust.” That disconnect — between what he knew about Holmes and what he felt in her presence — became central to the movie.

A24 gave Fielder and Oppenheim unusual freedom to pursue the project without any deadline or obligation to turn what they captured into a finished film. If nothing came of it, Fielder recalled being told, “you can just throw everything away.”

Holmes founded Theranos in 2003 and became one of Silicon Valley’s most celebrated young entrepreneurs by claiming the company could perform a wide range of medical tests using only a few drops of blood. The company collapsed after investigations exposed serious problems with its technology and business practices. In 2022, Holmes was convicted on four counts related to defrauding investors and later sentenced to more than 11 years in federal prison.

As shown in “You Can See Everything,” once Holmes reports to federal prison, the filmmakers’ access to her changes dramatically, with Evans — who takes over Holmes’ Twitter feed and assumes power of attorney over her decisions — becoming their main conduit. Fielder said the relationship grew strained as Evans tried to exert greater control over the project. Neither Holmes nor Evans has seen the finished movie.

Fielder is hoping to keep the film’s biggest surprises under wraps. During the Q&A, he told the Telluride audience he hoped future viewers could experience the film without knowing where it was headed. Stone seconded the request.

“You won’t be upsetting me,” Fielder joked. “You’ll be upsetting Oscar-winning actress Emma Stone.”

Fielder said that even after three years immersed in her world, he still doesn’t know quite what to make of Holmes — or how much of what she says can be believed.

“I really am struggling to this day to understand exactly what I experienced in this,” he said. “I don’t quite know what I went through.”

As the crowd filed out of the Herzog, one reaction seemed to recur more than any other: “That was wild.”

TELLURIDE, Colo. — For four days every Labor Day weekend, the Telluride Film Festival turns this tiny mountain town into something of a refuge from the outside world. Tucked into a box canyon and far from the usual machinery of Hollywood, moviegoers spend their days seeing films they may have known little about before arriving and talking about them almost nonstop.

Artificial intelligence, apparently, did not get the memo.

This year, even Telluride’s usually self-contained movie bubble couldn’t keep out the existential anxieties surrounding AI. On Saturday, the festival devoted two events to the subject, beginning with “The Humanity Dilemma,” an hourlong multimedia presentation mixing dire warnings with live music and imagery, and continuing with a panel bluntly titled “AI AI AI,” featuring Microsoft co-founder Bill Gates.

Introducing “The Humanity Dilemma” at the nearly packed Sheridan Opera House, festival executive director Julie Huntsinger acknowledged that Telluride normally steers clear of taking political sides. “We just let the program speak for us,” Huntsinger said.

But on AI, she made an exception.

“We are a very humanist festival — that’s how we identify,” Huntsinger said. “AI is a threat.” While acknowledging potentially beneficial applications, she urged the audience to become more engaged in the debate over its development.

“We all need to be very alert and vigilant and loving and kind and stop this s—,” she said, earning loud whoops of approval from some in the crowd.

AI already occupies an uneasy place in Hollywood, where filmmakers and studios are experimenting with the technology even as actors, writers and other creative workers fight to protect their jobs and likenesses from being exploited or replaced.

For all of Huntsinger’s warnings, Telluride is not treating AI as off-limits. Its program includes “Love, Rendered,” a short documentary directed by Liz Garbus and produced by Darren Aronofsky about an elderly couple confronting the husband’s memory loss. Using AI along with family photographs and stories from loved ones, the filmmakers recreate the moment the couple first met and fell in love 70 years earlier. On Sunday, the film’s creative team is scheduled to discuss the project at an event titled “Filmmaking and Technology With Empathy: AI for Societal Benefit.”

“The Humanity Dilemma” was presented by Tristan Harris and Aza Raskin, co-founders of the Center for Humane Technology, who appeared in the 2020 documentary “The Social Dilemma,” along with artist and researcher Joy Mauthe and violinist Andrei Matorin. Harris and Raskin also appear in this year’s “The AI Doc: Or How I Became an Apocaloptimist.”

The presentation was designed to work on the emotions as well as the intellect. Original songs about humanity’s relationship to AI ran through much of the hour, with Mauthe singing and playing guitar and Matorin on violin, as Harris and Raskin delivered warnings accompanied by images of environmental devastation, poverty and figures in the AI race including Elon Musk, Sam Altman and Larry Ellison.

Their argument was stark: The race to build more powerful AI is moving far faster than governments or the public can keep up. Their deepest fear is that humans could eventually lose control of increasingly capable AI systems altogether.

At the same time, they acknowledged the technology’s potentially transformative benefits.

“AI is confusing because it represents both simultaneous utopia and dystopia,” Raskin said. “Just imagine having to reason about a nuke that could also solve cancer.”

By the end, Harris was calling for a halt to the development of more powerful systems.

“We need to pause frontier AI development and pivot and steer towards a pro-human future,” he said.

The hour concluded with Mauthe leading the audience in a final refrain, singing that the future is “still in our hands.” It was the kind of unabashedly earnest moment that could easily have tipped into awkwardness, but many in the room seemed to embrace it.

A few hours later, Harris and Raskin returned for “AI AI AI,” held outdoors at the Abel Gance Open Air Cinema in Telluride’s Elks Park, joined by Gates and filmmaker Joshua Oppenheimer, director of the Oscar-nominated documentaries “The Act of Killing” and “The Look of Silence,” who served as a moderator.

From left, Bill Gates, Aza Raskin, Tristan Harris and filmmaker Joshua Oppenheimer discuss the risks and potential benefits of artificial intelligence at the Telluride Film Festival on Saturday.

(Josh Rottenberg)

For Gates, who has spent decades focusing much of his philanthropy and public advocacy on global health and poverty, the rise of AI has forced him to make room for a new priority. In an essay published last week, he warned that the technology was improving faster than he anticipated and called for a new framework to manage its risks.

At Telluride, Gates said he now feels compelled to devote some of the political influence he has long used to advocate for causes such as malnutrition, polio and malaria to raise alarms about AI as well.

“Is this the greatest problem humanity has ever faced?” Gates said. “That is just a fact.”

Gates said his concerns have grown as AI systems have become more capable, particularly at writing computer code, something he has been obsessed with since he was 13.

“The AIs are superhuman, i.e., better than I am at writing code,” Gates said.

He laid out five broad areas of concern: jobs, biotechnology, cyberattacks, psychosocial harms and whether humans will be able to maintain control over the systems they are building.

Oppenheimer said that after spending hours digging into AI risks ahead of the panel, he had come away “absolutely terrified.” He read aloud an answer he had received after asking ChatGPT to estimate the risks if the race toward increasingly powerful AI continued with little regulation.

The chatbot put the chance of “persistent dystopian outcomes for all humanity” at 25% to 40%, a civilization-scale catastrophe at 5% to 15% and human extinction or permanent loss of human control at 5% to 10%.

“That’s what AI thinks,” Oppenheimer said.

Gates stressed AI’s potential upside, citing advances in medicine, education and assistance to farmers in poor countries. But pressed on whether development should be slowed until safety measures catch up, he said he would be open to the idea.

“If there was a credible plan that would cause this to be either slowed down or, you know, even held in stasis for a period of time, I would likely support that,” Gates said.

The difficulty, he said, is that multiple developers in both the U.S. and China are pushing closer to the technological frontier. Still, Gates rejected the argument that competition with China makes meaningful regulation impossible.

“China does not want cyberattacks, bioattacks or loss of control,” Gates said.

The discussion was punctuated by a pair of outbursts from the audience. At one point, as Gates discussed the economic incentives driving AI development, a man shouted that they represented “everything that’s wrong with America” and invoked Jesus Christ. Gates paused before responding dryly: “Anyway, not everything is wrong with America, according to me.”

Gates argued that government and civil society need to move much more quickly.

“This five-year period, in my view, is a very critical period,” he said, adding that responses that take five or six years to get underway could come too late.

Despite the dire warnings, Harris pointed to signs that pressure for safeguards is growing, including calls from AI-industry employees to limit the development of more powerful systems. Just last week, Meta agreed to pay $17 billion to settle claims by 29 states that Facebook and Instagram harmed young users while also agreeing to new child-safety measures on the platforms.

“I just want to leave you with not naive optimism, but momentum,” Harris said.

Near the end, Raskin suggested that President Trump’s well-documented desire to win the Nobel Peace Prize might provide an incentive for him to pursue a U.S.-China pause on more powerful AI systems.

“What’s better than solving one war?” Raskin said. “Saving all of humanity forever from uncontrollable AI.”

Gates, with a wry smile, called the Nobel angle “smart.”

“Whoever really takes the step to solve this AI problem would deserve the Nobel Prize,” he said.

Later that night, the festival would hold an outdoor screening of Stanley Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey,” featuring HAL 9000, one of cinema’s most famous rogue artificial intelligences.

Gates framed the current stakes in similarly cinematic terms.

“There are these movies where the aliens are coming, and you see unprecedented levels of cooperation between China and the U.S.,” he said. “Well, believe me, the aliens are here.”

VENICE, Italy — “My actual personality is not very friendly, I’m afraid,” claims Korean actor Jeon Do-yeon. “Myself and actor Sul Kyung-gu, we can be a little bit brusque. We don’t really have the talent to make the set fun.”

As she says it, though, Jeon and co-star Cho Yeo-jeong are laughing — making the assertion rather harder to believe when it arrives in English from Korean via an interpreter. Throughout our conversation, in fact, the pair chuckles, nods along to each other’s answers, interjects sounds of assent. Enough for me to understand that their chemistry comes naturally, whatever Jeon’s protestations.

“In the film I play a character that chases [Jeon’s character] and it really suited me, almost to the point where I didn’t really need to try and act this role,” as Cho puts it. “I was almost like a sunflower, constantly facing and chasing actor Jeon.”

The actors needed every ounce of the sublime chemistry they forged to portray the magnetic but fatally flawed relationship at the heart of auteur Lee Chang-dong’s first film in eight years, “Possible Love,” which premiered Sunday at the Venice Film Festival. South Korea’s international feature submission for the 2027 Oscars, the Netflix film sees Ye-ji (Cho), a documentarian married to a wealthy businessman (Zo In-sung), cozy up to Mi-ok (Jeon), whose husband (Sul) has been seriously injured in a brutal crackdown on striking factory workers, in order to secure an interview with him — only for divisions of class and professional ambition to expose the fault lines in their relationship, and in turn their marriages.

“It seems like they want to be friends with each other, but then there seems to be a line that just cannot be crossed between them,” says Lee, also through an interpreter, of the actors’ accomplished double act, referring to a scene in which Ye-ji bristles at Mi-ok’s suggestion that her high-end clothes are out of place interviewing unemployed laborers. “[Jeon and Cho] knew of that and they went into shooting that scene knowing that it was quite challenging to express. There were, of course, some things that were up to the camera in bringing that about, but I think that was a scene where the two were able to express just how nuanced and quite strange the relationship can be.”

The film itself is just as slippery and multi-layered, down to Lee’s heady admixture of documentary and dramatic aesthetics. Inspired by real-life labor conflict in South Korea, “Possible Love” uses Ye-ji’s nonfiction study of laid-off workers as a window into the lives of ordinary people swept up in large-scale social change, against the backdrop of which the two women’s competing priorities are thrown into stark relief. Can a filmmaker who totes a $4,000 Lora Piana backpack, however well-intentioned, truly understand the plight of the working class? Is a subject eager to publicize a political struggle prepared for the risk that her personal privacy will be invaded in the process?

To choreograph the film within the film — so compelling that I almost missed seeing its conclusion when “Possible Love” shifts the focus to interpersonal fireworks in the third hour — Lee cast a real-life documentary director and cinematographer as Ye-ji’s crew, lending what Cho calls their “natural energy” to the movements of the camera. Cho herself prepared by consulting the late master of the form, Frederick Wiseman, who was unabashed about the tension between documentary filmaking’s often radical politics and the privilege required to turn it into a profession.

“[Wiseman] was posed the question by some students studying film and documentary: ‘How can I pursue this work in reality?’” she recalls. “And he replied with the immortal words, ‘Marry a rich man.’ And you know, I was preparing for the role of Ye-ji, so it was such an apt response for her situation.”

Jeon, left, and Cho in “Possible Love.”

(Joo Jae-bum/Netflix)

The potential for conflict bursts into the open at a seaside home that has been in Ye-ji’s husband’s family for years, where the group has decamped for a supposedly restorative holiday. Reminded of the setting by the location of our conversation — a set of green-curtained, pink-carpeted suites at the Hotel Excelsior, overlooking the northern shores of the Adriatic — I ask the actors what’s going through their characters’ minds when Mi-ok and Ye-ji’s promising connection ultimately severs.

Mi-ok “doesn’t really want to reveal to anyone else what’s going on in the family … She only wants to show the good side that they are trying to live their best life and trying to improve and move forward with hopefulness,” Jeon says, citing an early scene in which Mi-ok asks the crew not to film her son’s awkward taekwondo at a school field day. When the camera’s prying eye becomes more intrusive, though, she “feels a great sense of betrayal, that her family is being used and exploited.”

For Cho, who says Ye-ji is “constantly balancing the ethical dilemma” between documenting the truth and treating her subjects with care, the break was always inevitable, and no amount of Ye-ji’s remorse or guilt can repair the damage.

Against this microcosm of the class war Lee sets the emergence of artificial intelligence, which threatens to further destabilize labor across a range of industries — including his own. Although he’s uncertain if, when or how AI will “intrude” on the “entirely creative” filmmaking process, the “Poetry” and “Burning” director is already using it for everyday tasks.

“Before going to see the doctor, I like to ask AI all the symptoms that I have, ask what’s wrong with me. Or I would ask, you know, ‘What’s the weather like in Venice?’” he says. “AI gives us instant answers, and it goes even beyond that to where it gives you advice these days. And in that sense, AI has indeed really gotten deeply intertwined in my daily life.”

Similarly, Jeon is open to using AI for more “trivial” matters, such as simultaneous translation from English to Korean and vice versa. But she admits to more “extreme thoughts” than Lee about the technology’s role in the future of screen acting.

“I’m going to be starring in a [Korean-language adaptation] of Anton Chekov’s “The Cherry Orchard” upcoming in New York. And I was wondering, actually, is the stage the last place that cannot be conquered by AI, and will not be replaced by AI?”

Perhaps. But the scene in “Possible Love” that best captures the finely honed chemistry of its female leads, in which Mi-ok and Ye-ji drunkenly bond over soju and Korean barbecue as their bemused husbands look on, seems to me beyond the capabilities of AI — it’s too warm, too meticulously rendered to be anything other than fully human, the sort of acting one hopes the Venice jury will remember when it hands out the Volpi Cup for best actress on Saturday.

“It is quite difficult technically and practically — it was a scene that we shot all night long,” Cho says. “But I remember shooting it with a lot of pleasure.”

No protest there.

It’s been a remarkable year for Bad Bunny, one of pop music’s biggest stars. After winning multiple trophies earlier this year at the Grammys, including album of the year for “Débi Tirar Más Fotos,” he can add another accolade: Emmy winner.

The Puerto Rican rapper and singer, also known as Benito Antonio Martínez Ocasio, won his first Emmy for variety special (live) on Saturday for his historic Super Bowl halftime show. It was the first Spanish-language halftime show, a 13-minute spectacle that transformed a football field into a variety of scenes including a sugar cane field, bodega, wedding party and casita, like the one in his 2025 San Juan residency. It also featured performances by Lady Gaga and Ricky Martin. Mikael Wood, The Times’ pop music critic, called it “a busy and colorful performance that drew lines between the traditional folk forms of his native island and the throbbing reggaeton beats that have made him an icon to young people around the globe.”

Bad Bunny served as a producer on the show. It won seven Emmys overall, including for directing for a variety special and music direction.

Also honored at Saturday’s ceremony was Mariska Hargitay for her documentary “My Mom Jayne,” about her mother Jayne Mansfield, a Hollywood actor who died in a car accident when Hargitay was 3 years old. Hargitay also received an Emmy for directing the film and Tony Hardmon won for cinematography. The movie, which premiered at the Cannes Film Festival last year, had a limited theatrical run before being released on HBO in June 2025. Hargitay won an Emmy in 2006 for lead actress in a drama for playing Det. Olivia Benson in “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit.”

In an interview with The Times last year, Hargitay said, “Making this film has been so extraordinary to me and totally reframed the narrative for me,” about Mansfield and the struggles she encountered over her brief but celebrated career. The film also revealed that Hargitay’s biological father was Nelson Sardelli, a former entertainer, and not Mickey Hargitay, the man who raised her and Mansfield’s second husband.

Mariska Hargitay will host the Primetime Emmy Awards on Sept. 14 in Los Angeles.

The first pair of Emmy ceremonies, formerly called the Creative Arts Emmys, are held over two nights, two weekends before the Primetime Emmy Awards, and honor many of the behind-the-scenes workers and craftspeople in television. An abridged version of the ceremonies will be broadcast Sept. 12 on FXX and stream on Hulu the following day.

Here is a list of winners from Saturday’s ceremony:

Variety special (live)
“The Apple Music Super Bowl LX Halftime Show Starring Bad Bunny”

Variety special (pre-recorded)
“The Muppet Show”

Documentary or nonfiction series
“Mr. Scorsese”

Documentary or nonfiction special
“My Mom Jayne: A Film by Mariska Hargitay”

Unstructured reality program
“Love on the Spectrum”

Structured reality program
“Antiques Roadshow”

Host for a reality of reality competition program
Alan Cumming, “The Traitors”

Game show
“Jeopardy!”

Game show host
Jimmy Kimmel, “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?”

The complete list of winners for Saturday’s ceremony can be found at televisionacademy.com.

VENICE, Italy — When Skyler Gisondo turns up in “Primetime” as “Decoy Dan” Plum, an aspiring 23-year-old actor cast to play teenage bait for an unsuspecting pedophile, the camera can’t take its eyes off him.

The second trap set in director Lance Oppenheim’s lurid sweeps-ploitation drama about “To Catch a Predator” follows Gisondo’s face, most often in extreme close-up, as Dan processes what he’s gotten himself into, attempts to make small talk with the predator and finally flees off set, where he sits down, steadies himself and sheds a shaken tear. The suspect, meanwhile, is an afterthought, or more accurately a punchline: He only truly captures the camera’s attention when he drops trou, rips the top off a canister of whipped cream and sprays.

It’s an arresting formal choice, repeated from the opening sequence — that of the viral “You see how this looks, right?” moment from the trailer — to the climatic suicide of Rockwall County, Texas, Assistant Dist. Atty. Bill Conradt Jr., whose case is explored in the Esquire magazine article on which Ajon Singh’s screenplay is based. With rare exception, “Primetime” doesn’t have the guts to look its predators in the eye.

And perhaps it doesn’t need to. The film directs its most gleeful energies instead to taking “To Catch a Predator” host Chris Hansen (Robert Pattinson) down a peg. The former “Dateline NBC” correspondent, who turned a newsmagazine segment about men soliciting teens for sex online into a hidden-camera sensation in the mid-aughts, comes off here as a self-serious showboat who’s mistaken tabloid trash for accountability journalism. (As one audio technician complains, “Guy thinks he’s f— Mike Wallace.”) It’s not just that stentorian voice, either. Envy of “Dateline” co-anchor Stone Phillips provides as much motivation as ratings pressure from TV executive Jeff Zucker (playing himself), with Hansen micromanaging his crew, insulting his producer, Andie (Merritt Wever), and neglecting his wife and kids in the process.

At least in the film’s early going, this yearning for adulation is played for cringeworthy comedy, and effectively so; my hardest laugh came when Hansen screens the rough cut of a new episode for his young sons and brags to them about “To Catch a Predator” being moved to a better time slot. As the tone moves toward horror, though, the decision to make the host the story quickly stops paying dividends. Indeed, though the real-life broadcaster may not find all the ego-deflation very funny, even Hansen — who told my colleague Stephen Battaglio that he objects to the film using his name and likeness under the label “inspired by true events” — would have to admit that “Primetime” avoids the thorniest questions about the true-crime empire he built.

Robert Pattinson as Chris Hansen in “Primetime.”

(A24)

Compared with David Osit’s superb 2025 documentary “Predators,” a kaleidoscopic examination of the phenomenon from the perspective of Hansen, the decoys, the suspects, law enforcement, journalistic ethics and the filmmaker’s own experience as a survivor of child sexual abuse, “Primetime” seems remarkably incurious about “To Catch a Predator” and its consequences. It would probably be too much to ask a scripted feature to explore the challenge of achieving convictions against defendants ensnared on an episode of “Dateline,” or to delve into the legal niceties of surreptitious recording. But the suspects here are so anonymized — seen in profile or steep angles through a hidden camera lens, spied at a distance on a monitor in video village, heard as a disembodied voice on a phone or read via text in an instant message — that there’s not much to argue over anyway. The predators are reduced from people to “perverts,” of scarcely more interest to “Primetime” than to the bloodthirsty viewer Hansen meets on a plane.

When an entrapped rabbi attacks Hansen during a sting, screaming in his own tight close-up, “You don’t have the right to do this. Who do you think you are?” the film briefly, mercifully breaks this pattern, and generates an electric moment of moral uncertainty. But it doesn’t last. Instead, in its depiction of the Conradt case — ostensibly meant to underscore “To Catch a Predator’s” worst extremes — “Primetime” stumbles into some of the very same gutter sleaze tactics as the original series, transforming what was in reality a grim mid-afternoon standoff into a tense, pitch-dark operation punctuated by lightning strikes, power outages and night-vision cameras.

Such poetic license offers little new insight into a topic that has already been picked over for two decades, but it might be forgiven were Hansen as easily dramatized as he is made fun of. Alas. “Primetime” itself seems to know this — why else hire Gisondo to play Jimmy Olsen to Pattinson’s unlikable Man of Zeal — yet proceeds to construct its second half around Hansen’s unraveling: an extramarital affair, about to be exposed in the National Enquirer; ratings losses to ABC competitor “Lost”; desperation to reel in a “whale” and willingness to cut corners to do it. By the time the film again confronts the specter of something wicked under “To Catch a Predator’s” glossy surface, it comes in the form of Hansen’s own phantoms, introduced in a grueling flashback to India in the 1990s and carried through to the film’s conclusion. Why we’re to care about this apparent flash of horror, if not of conscience, remains unexplained. What about the faintly ludicrous figure of the foregoing 100-plus minutes was supposed to make me care about his moral compass?

In the final estimation, then, “Primetime” isn’t a Chris Hansen hit piece. In fact, it’s so in love with its flawed protagonist that it can’t see he’s the least compelling character in the movie, an ambitious, arrogant, grasping, unscrupulous man we’ve met countless times before. Which may explain the film’s final bit of poetic license. The last we last see of Hansen, muttering lines from his script as the police process the Conradt crime scene, suggests a man disturbed, perhaps even chastened, by what he has witnessed. But of course the real-life Hansen continues his sting operations to this day under the banner of “Takedown,” a series on his streaming service TruBlu, and both there and in “Predators” he appears utterly unshaken, unhaunted, unbowed. So for all the tension between the film and its subject to come through in the press of late, the gulf between them is not so wide as one might suspect.

Maybe they deserve each other.

Michael Lomonaco can account for every minute of the morning of Sept. 11, 2001 — including the small decision that saved his life.

Lomonaco, the executive chef who ran Windows on the World on the 106th and 107th floors of the North Tower of the World Trade Center, was on his way up to his office when he stopped at an optometrist shop on the ground level to have his eyeglass frames adjusted.

He was still inside when American Airlines Flight 11 hit the tower above him at 8:46 a.m.

“I felt the buidling shake,” he recalled in the new CNN Films documentary “Top of the World.” “And I thought that can’t be the subway. That’s impossible.”

Lomonaco was evacuated. From the street, he watched employees of his own restaurant wave a white tablecloth from a window more than 100 floors up. Seventy-nine Windows on the World employees and 91 guests died that morning in the gastronomic soul of the Twin Towers — the one part of the complex that belonged to New Yorkers who didn’t work there, and to visitors from everywhere else.

“Top of the World” premieres Monday at 8 p.m. ET/PT on CNN and begins streaming the following day on the network’s subscription streaming platforms. The documentary short arrives on a double anniversary: 25 years since the attacks, and 50 years since Windows on the World opened on April 19, 1976.

It is the work of producer-director team Betsy West and Julie Cohen, who made “RBG,” the Oscar-nominated portrait of the late Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. The film is a production of CNN Films, TIME Studios and Tribeca Studios, in association with Montalto Pictures and Storyville Films, and was inspired by Tom Roston’s book “The Most Spectacular Restaurant in the World.” Actor Denis Leary voices the restaurant’s creator, Joe Baum, drawn from decades of archival recordings.

West and Cohen were reluctant to take it on. Both were working in network television news in 2001.

“There’s like a part of you that doesn’t want to go back there,” Cohen said in a recent interview. “But when we read this book and met some of the amazing people who had worked at Windows over its 25-year history, we realized this was actually a really good way into remembering there was a lot of beautiful stuff in the Twin Towers and like we shouldn’t let that disappear just because it ended so painfully.”

What emerges is a history of how a restaurant transformed the reputation of the monolithic Twin Towers, which received little respect from architecture critics and bafflement from a public that wondered why it was built in the 1970s by the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey as the city was fighting off financial collapse.

“This film tells a story of a restaurant that was very special to New York a time when New York was getting kicked in the teeth,” the Brooklyn-born Lomonaco said in a recent interview.

The World Trade Center operators turned to restaurant impresario Joe Baum to create a dining experience that would draw people to the Manhattan neighborhood largely known for its blocks of stores that sold radios and electronic parts. Baum was known for such New York dining landmarks as the Four Seasons and Tavern on the Green, and his new creation became an immediate hit after it opened in 1976, becoming a magnet for tourists and celebrities alike who came for the eye-popping views through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

At the time of the 9/11 attack, the World was the highest-revenue-generating privately owned restaurant in the U.S.

West noted another draw to the story was the stories of the many immigrants who worked at Windows, which proudly called itself “the U.N. of restaurants.” The film’s focus on the contribution of the foreign-born population to the restaurant industry stands in stark contrast to the image of immigrants conveyed by the Trump White House to justify its deportation efforts.

“Immigrants continue to make a contribution to our country and to the economy,” West said. “This was an opportunity to tell that positive story as opposed to what’s going on in our country now.”

Cohen and West scoured the Windows on the World Facebook page to find surviving former employees to help tell the story. Nathalie Tolentino was a hostess whose family came to the U.S. to escape political upheaval in Peru. Sekou Siby was a line cook from the Ivory Coast, who swapped shifts with one of the workers who died during a morning breakfast held in the restaurant on 9/11. Both talk about how the restaurant changed their lives.

Lomonaco is a central character in the “Top of the World,” as his arrival as the executive chef of Windows in 1997 boosted the restaurant’s culinary reputation. A hot chef who oversaw a turnaround at the 21 Club, another legendary New York dining spot, Lomonaco turned Windows into a destination for American cuisine along with the breathtaking views.

Lomonaco arrived after the restaurant was closed for three years following the first terrorist bombing of the World Trade Center in 1993 that killed six people and injured more than 1,000 but left the towers intact.

Once Windows on the World was gone, Lomonaco was offered high-profile restaurant jobs in other parts of the country. But he had unfinished business in New York.

“I didn’t want to abandon my city,” he said.

In the first days after the attacks, Lomonaco said, he read nothing about Windows on the World; coverage centered on the massive loss of life among the first responders and at the financial firms inside the World Trade Center. But over time, he got attention and support for the families of the employees who lost their lives that day.

Lomonaco and the restaurant’s owners formed Windows of Hope, a charitable foundation that raised more than $22 million to pay for healthcare and tuition costs for the children of the victims. “We were giving checks to people to pay their rent before federal funds came through,” he said.

Lomonaco said he still meets patrons who give him a matchbook or coaster from their visit to Windows. “They feel like they have to give me or send me these little artifacts,” he said. “That’s what has touched me the most.”

ITV are screening this war film based on one of the most significant battles of all time, with a huge historic figure at the centre of it all

History was turned into a legendary piece of storytelling when this film made its way to the big screen in 1970, retelling the real life events of war and now its set to appear on TV’s tonight.

Regarded as one of the great original epic war films, this movie helps to maintain the legacy of the decisive battle of the Napoleonic Wars, in the 1800s.

Waterloo is a sweeping historical movie which remains one of the most powerful entries in the genre, with acclaimed director Peter Jackson even crediting it as a key influence on his work on The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit.

It is a film that depicts the real-life Battle of Waterloo, focusing not solely on the conflict itself but also on the pivotal days leading up to the campaign, widely known as the Hundred Days.

It charts Napoleon Bonaparte’s downfall and his return from exile ahead of his crushing defeat at the 1815 battle. Following his comeback, the French military swiftly rallies to his cause, prompting alarmed European powers to forge a new coalition, and war inevitably follows.

Many have praised the film for its historical accuracy, with one viewer writing on Rotten Tomatoes that it is “the most accurate historical film ever”, which is enough to make history buffs want to watch it.

The grand-scale production was a joint venture between Italy and the Soviet Union, helmed by director Sergei Bondarchuk and featuring Rod Steiger in the role of the legendary Emperor Napoleon I.

Following a viewing of the film, one audience member posted a review on Rotten Tomatoes, saying: “This is a classic, and Rod Steiger is immense, making the new Napoleon movie look like an amateur nightmare.”

Another wrote: “remarkable film. One for the ages. A film like it will never be made again.”

It features a number of historical figures played by actors such as Jack Hawkins as General Sir Thomas Picton, Virginia McKenna as the Duchess of Richmond and Orson Welles as the famed Louis XVIII of France.

The film’s most striking element is undoubtedly the combat sequences, which deployed an astonishing 17,000 authentically costumed extras. The battle scenes were meticulously recreated to achieve maximum realism, using genuine numbers and eschewing special effects, establishing a record that remains unbroken for the largest number of costumed extras in any film.

This commitment helped secure multiple accolades, including two BAFTAs for Best Costume Design and Best Art Direction. It’s the director’s unwavering dedication to crafting these teeming, lifelike scenes that continues to strike a chord with audiences.

One viewer wrote: “Easily one of the best movies ever made. Actual soldiers given a Napoleonic battle training playing the extras, one of the most historically accurate film ever made.

“It allows one to immerse oneself in the battle and provides excellent viewing. With brilliant casting this film remains one of my favourites of all time.”

Yet despite the film’s critical acclaim, it struggled to recoup the costs of these monumental scenes at the North American box office. Consequently, its disappointing financial performance triggered a significant industry-wide decline in backing for large-scale practical effects, driven by commercial anxieties.

You can catch the historical drama on ITV4 tonight at 7.40pm. Alternatively, the film is available to stream on ITVX at your convenience.

When the 53rd Telluride Film Festival kicks off Friday high in Colorado’s San Juan Mountains, its lineup will span family rupture and sumo wrestling, AIDS and rock stardom, with films touching on astronomy, Rupert Murdoch and extraterrestrial biker gangs — a typically wide-ranging mix for a festival that likes to keep audiences guessing.

For festival director Julie Huntsinger, the films share less a theme than a feeling. “Tenderness is something that I see in a lot of the movies,” she says. “This is a very heartbreaking, tender year.”

Telluride’s intimacy is part of its peculiar power. Smaller and scruffier than the annual film events of Venice, Toronto or New York, the four-day festival has no competition or juried prizes and keeps its lineup secret until the last minute. Celebrities trade red-carpet formality for jeans and flannel, while audiences crisscross town between screenings in a high school auditorium, a Masonic lodge, the county courthouse and half a dozen other spaces pressed into service for the week.

For a festival that can feel this homespun, its awards-season footprint is remarkably large. Last year, five of the 10 eventual best picture Oscar nominees screened there: “Hamnet,” “Bugonia,” “Sentimental Value,” “The Secret Agent” and “Frankenstein.”

This year there are fewer obvious awards heavyweights in the mix, at a time when prestige and independent films have become harder to finance, distribute and sell to audiences. Then again, Telluride has never depended entirely on known quantities; films such as “Slumdog Millionaire” and “Moonlight” arrived with relatively modest expectations and left as major contenders.

“It’s such a quintessential Telluride lineup,” Huntsinger says of this year’s eclectic program. “They kind of always feel that way because they’re so handmade.”

Among the more than 40 films in Telluride’s main program are new works from major directors such as Martin McDonagh, Werner Herzog, Mike Leigh, Danny Boyle and Paweł Pawlikowski. This year’s Silver Medallion tributes — the festival’s signature career honorees — will go to filmmaker Andrew Haigh and actors Sandra Hüller and John Malkovich, who will make his first trip to Telluride.

John Malkovich and Sam Rockwell in Martin McDonagh’s “Wild Horse Nine”

(Diego Araya Corvalan / Searchlight Pictures)

Haigh, whose films include “All of Us Strangers,” “Lean on Pete” and “45 Years,” returns with “A Long Winter,” adapted from a Colm Tóibín novella and relocated from the Pyrenees to the American Rockies in the 1950s. Ebon Moss-Bachrach, Caitríona Balfe, Kit Connor and Fred Hechinger star as members of a struggling family that begins to unravel after the mother disappears.

Huntsinger calls Haigh deeply humanist. “I don’t know how Andrew is so skilled at getting these performances but that is truly his gift,” she says.

Malkovich comes to Telluride with the dark comedy “Wild Horse Nine,” the latest from McDonagh, writer-director of “The Banshees of Inisherin” and “In Bruges.” Malkovich and Sam Rockwell play veteran CIA operatives who, after helping destabilize Salvador Allende’s government in 1973 Chile, head to Easter Island on a more personal assignment.

“It’s my favorite thing that McDonagh has ever done,” Huntsinger says. “He’s quite incisive. It is a timely film. And Malkovich is extraordinary.”

Hüller returns after a breakout 2023 Telluride, where she brought both “Anatomy of a Fall” and “The Zone of Interest.” She has another two films in the lineup this year: Markus Schleinzer’s “Rose,” in which she plays a woman passing as a male soldier during Europe’s Thirty Years’ War, and Pawlikowski’s “Fatherland” as Erika Mann on a journey back to postwar Germany with her father, the author and Hitler critic Thomas Mann.

Huntsinger seems as taken with Hüller herself as with her artistry — “so much intelligence and compassion for human beings,” she says.

Sandra Hüller and Hanns Zischler in the movie “Fatherland.”

(Agata Grzybowska / Mubi)

Elsewhere, Ira Sachs’ “The Man I Love,” starring Rami Malek, Tom Sturridge and this year’s guest director Rebecca Hall, looks back at New York’s queer creative community during the AIDS crisis. In Simon Stone’s “Elsinore,” Andrew Scott plays “Chariots of Fire” star Ian Charleson, who took on the role of Hamlet at the National Theatre while dying of AIDS. Scott’s performance is already generating early awards-season attention.

Huntsinger hopes audiences won’t overlook Arthur Harari’s “The Unknown,” an uncanny body-swapping drama starring Léa Seydoux that uses its genre premise to explore questions of identity and selfhood. “It is really dense and obtuse but I think it is rewarding and I hope people take up the challenge,” she says.

Telluride has long emphasized nonfiction and this year is no exception. Among the higher-profile entries are “Pete Townshend: Behind Blue Eyes,” a portrait of the Who guitarist and songwriter, and Nanette Burstein’s “Carl Sagan: We Are Made of Star Stuff,” about the astronomer and science communicator. The slate also includes Bryan Fogel’s endurance-sports documentary “The Row”; Pegah Ahangarani’s Iran-focused “Rehearsals for a Revolution”; and Mark Cousins’ 16-hour “The Story of Documentary Film.”

“Everest: The Other Side,” from filmmakers Jimmy Chin and Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi, follows mountaineers Hilaree Nelson and Jim Morrison as they prepare to climb Everest’s north face and attempt an unprecedented ski descent. Chin and Vasarhelyi won an Oscar for 2018’s “Free Solo,” their nerve-shredding chronicle of Alex Honnold’s ropeless ascent up El Capitan.

Huntsinger calls the new film “an even more complex, emotional, deep and profound examination of what we call the call of the wild.” After seeing it, she says, she ran into Chin and blurted out, “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

The looming subject of artificial intelligence will also get its own moment in Telluride. A conversation called “The Humanity Dilemma” will examine what the festival calls the “species-level event” of AI’s rise and whether an AI-dominated future is inevitable. “I’m very worried about AI,” Huntsinger says.

For all the films Telluride has announced, the one that might generate the most chatter is still under wraps.

While Telluride routinely reserves “TBA” slots for popular repeat screenings, it has occasionally used them to spring an unannounced title on audiences — as it did last year with “Frankenstein.” This year it has set aside a prime Sunday night slot for just such a surprise: a world premiere involving, Huntsinger says, some “very known names.”

“Do not miss it,” she teases. “You just won’t see this one coming and your jaw will be on the ground for the entire length of the film.” Beyond that, Huntsinger falls back on the festival’s unofficial motto: “Underpromise, overdeliver.”

Inevitably, there will be guessing. One possibility is “The Social Reckoning,” a follow-up to “The Social Network” directed by its Oscar-winning screenwriter Aaron Sorkin. This one’s about Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen and Wall Street Journal reporter Jeff Horwitz and stars Jeremy Strong, Mikey Madison and Jeremy Allen White. It’s due from Sony on Oct. 9. The film was still undergoing reshoots in mid-July.

Huntsinger volunteers one thing: The mystery film is not Alejandro González Iñárritu’s “Digger,” a gonzo satire starring Tom Cruise, Hüller, Riz Ahmed, John Goodman and Jesse Plemons. She says Iñárritu — whose last film, “Bardo,” had a rocky reception on the 2022 festival circuit — was adamant that the decision wasn’t about avoiding festivals.

“As I understand it, there’s a big twist that he would like audiences to discover as close together as possible,” she says of “Digger,” which premieres in London Sept. 22 before opening Oct. 2.

Two of last year’s biggest Oscar contenders, “Sinners” and “One Battle After Another,” also skipped fall festival launches, raising questions about how essential such festivals — Telluride among them — remain to an awards campaign.

Huntsinger understands why a studio might hesitate to expose a film to scrutiny months before release. “The stain can happen if something gets savaged very far ahead of a release,” she says. “There’s a lot at stake.”

But she isn’t convinced the model is broken. She still believes the smaller, more challenging films Telluride tends to champion have “genuine shots” in the Oscar race.

“Getting selected is the prize,” Huntsinger says.

After all the strategizing and prognosticating, what no one can predict is which films will actually connect once audiences arrive.

“I don’t know what people are going to fall in love with,” Huntsinger says. “People have become like cats rather than dogs. You just never know what they’re going to go for.”

A Miami investor who pleaded guilty to making insider trades connected to the parent company of President Trump’s Truth Social platform helped fund a pro-Trump documentary film in hopes of securing a presidential pardon, according to a lawsuit by an L.A. studio that accuses him of threats and extortion.

Michael Shvartsman pleaded guilty in 2024 to insider trading associated with the Trump Media & Technology Group, which federal prosecutors said netted him $18.2 million in ill-gotten gains.

Four months later, Shvartsman helped fund the documentary “The Man You Don’t Know” in an effort to obtain a pardon, according to the lawsuit filed last month in Los Angeles. He denies the allegations.

A company controlled by Shvartsman provided a $425,000 loan in August 2024 to help fund the film, according to the suit. The film featured interviews with Trump’s sons Eric Trump and Donald Trump Jr. and painted a flattering portrait of the president.

Shvartsman attended the film’s premiere that October at Trump’s Mar-a-Lago club in Palm Beach, Fla., where he revealed, according to the lawsuit, that he had provided financing for the movie and “was hoping his participation would enable him to get a pardon.”

The event featured a who’s who of Trump-world insiders, including former New York Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, the late pro wrestler and media personality Hulk Hogan, Eric and Donald Trump Jr., as well as the former and soon-to-be president.

Shvartsman and his associates “arranged meetings” with “contacts and stars” associated with the movie in the hopes of achieving his goal of a pardon, the lawsuit said, though it doesn’t state specifically whom he targeted.

Shvartsman had good reason to seek their help.

Days before the event, he had been sentenced by a federal judge in New York to two years and four months in prison for insider trading connected to the announcement of a merger that would make Trump Media & Technology Group a publicly traded company.

Shvartsman, who is a Canadian citizen, also faced the prospect of deportation after his sentence.

Shvartsman said he “disputes all facts and allegations” in the lawsuit and plans to file a countersuit.

“We are not going to litigate this matter through the press,” he wrote in a message to The Times. “We intend to address the issues through the appropriate legal process, where the relevant facts and documentation can be properly presented and considered.”

Shvartsman’s efforts to mitigate his penalty weren’t limited to the documentary film. A day before his sentencing, the Aleph Institute, a Jewish criminal justice reform group, filed a letter to the federal court in New York laying out a proposed community service plan for Shvartsman to follow. The group had been instrumental in helping secure clemency during Trump’s first term for Philip Esformes, a south Florida man who was serving a 20-year prison sentence for his role in a $1.3-billion Medicare fraud scheme.

But Shvartsman’s story didn’t have a Hollywood ending: He failed to secure a pardon.

He went to prison in January 2025 and was held in federal custody until May 29, 2026, according to Bureau of Prison records. It isn’t clear whether he remains in the U.S.

Though Shvartsman was unsuccessful, dozens of other wealthy convicted individuals have been able to win clemency during Trump’s time in office by spending big bucks on influence campaigns to secure their freedom.

Many of them have ponied up millions of dollars to lobbyists and political insiders who have built a cottage industry out of helping monied convicts secure their freedom.

Some pardon chasers have also made big donations to pro-Trump super PACs as part of their efforts.

Scammers have even tried to get in on the action.

Trump’s pardon czar, Alice Marie Johnson, recently took to social media saying that people have been impersonating her and asking for a “processing fee” to help smooth the path to clemency. She said that neither she nor her office would ever ask for such a payment.

The lawsuit against Shvartsman, brought by the Los Angeles film production company Global Ascension Studios and its chief executive, Joshua Macciello, alleges that Shvartsman and his associates demanded immediate repayment of the loan the day after the 2024 Mar-a-Lago event — nine months before it was due — and threatened Macciello’s “physical safety” if the film company didn’t pay immediately or transfer control of the company to Shvartsman.

The lawsuit alleges that Macciello modified the loan agreement under duress and agreed to give Shvartsman and his company a greater share of the film’s potential proceeds.

It isn’t clear whether the loan has yet been repaid.

The proceeds from the film would prove to be middling.

The film was released days before Trump’s 2024 election victory, but its producers blamed political bias for the movie’s lackluster box office performance after fewer theaters than expected agreed to show it.

“In 37 years, I’ve never seen creative work get censored by theaters in this country,” Arthur Sarkissian, Global Ascension Studios’ former head of production, who was involved in the project, told Deadline at the time.

Sarkissian, best known as a producer of the “Rush Hour” franchise, is also being sued by Global Ascension and Macciello, who accused him of fraud and breach of contract in a lawsuit filed last year in Los Angeles.

Sarkissian has filed a counterclaim against Global Ascension, Macciello and others connected to the film production company, also accusing them of fraud and breach of contract.

The case is ongoing.

For years, Hollywood has talked about a federal film and television tax credit that could help the industry combat the growing number of productions fleeing overseas.

This week, the entertainment business got a glimmer of hope.

After more than a year of quiet work from California lawmakers, industry lobbyists and Hollywood unions to build a bipartisan coalition, President Trump endorsed the effort in a post on Truth Social, providing a major boost to the issue.

If passed, a federal incentive is expected to help draw some productions back to the Golden State, industry experts and advocates said. While it probably won’t immediately end Southern California’s production crisis — as many states now have established film hubs stocked with experienced crews and more generous tax breaks — an added federal credit could certainly help make California more competitive, they said.

“I will put our crews and our talent against any talent anywhere in the world,” said Rep. Laura Friedman (D-Glendale), a former producer who has been pushing for a national film tax credit. “If we have a level playing field upon which to shoot, where we are not much more expensive than other locations, productions will come back to Los Angeles.”

Trump’s Truth Social post came after a meeting with actor Jon Voight, one of the president’s designated Hollywood ambassadors who has played a key role in lobbying for the film industry and advocating for a federal tax credit. Though Trump has had frosty relations with Hollywood, particularly since many heavyweights did not support his presidential campaign, the industry’s jobs push aligns with his focus on re-shoring work, marking a rare moment of agreement.

Speaking to reporters in the Oval Office, Trump said Wednesday that he has done “a lot of work” in the last week to get something done on federal tax incentives for the film and television industry.

Trump said he has spoken to streaming giant Netflix; Ari Emanuel, chief executive of TKO Group Holdings Inc.; and “many others,” and that he is hopeful there will be a bipartisan push to revive productions in Hollywood with “big subsidies and big credits.”

“We don’t give anything and we should,” Trump said, referring to proposed tax breaks for U.S. productions. He added that he wants legislation to “match” what other countries are offering.

Now, lawmakers must hammer out the details of that legislation.

The bill will have a Republican sponsor from a state known for film and TV production, but Friedman declined to name the person, saying she was waiting for Republicans to make their internal decision about that lead lawmaker.

The bill is likely to go through the House Committee on Ways and Means. While exact provisions are still being negotiated, the expectation is that the credit will be stackable with states’ incentives — similar to how Canada’s tax credit works. A 20% federal tax credit on all labor costs — including for salaries of actors and crew members — is being discussed.

An earlier proposal from Sen. Adam Schiff (D-Calif.) had called for a baseline labor-based tax credit of 15% to 20%, in addition to bonus add-ons for indie productions among others, a Schiff spokesperson said.

Schiff has previously noted that 45% of all U.S. films and scripted TV shows were shot internationally last year, up from about 33% in 2022.

Having Schiff and Trump on the same side of this national tax credit is emblematic of the odd bedfellows the effort has gathered.

The Motion Picture Assn. studio lobbying group has released a statement backing the proposal, as have unions such as the Screen Actors Guild — American Federation of Television and Radio Artists, the Directors Guild of America and the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees.

“I am in strong agreement with the President,” Schiff wrote Monday in a post on X. “Congress should immediately take up and pass a federal film tax incentive to bring back these good-paying jobs that we’ve lost to other countries.”

Production incentive experts say any national film tax credit will need to have a seamless process, one with minimal red tape.

One idea is to make the national production incentive an overlay that’s attached to states’ incentives, so the federal government doesn’t need a separate agency to vet the same criteria, which could slow the process, said Peter Marshall, managing principal of media insurance services at Epic, an insurance broker and consultant.

Parameters will also need to be clear, and the program easy to access, said Kathleen Thompson, vice president of tax incentives at payroll service Cast & Crew.

“There is an excitement and an energy and a hopefulness right now from the production community,” she said. “I’ve certainly gotten notes from clients, potential clients and industry colleagues that are very excited about the possibility of this passing and becoming a reality.”

Stacking a federal tax credit on top of the newly bolstered California production incentives could help give the state an edge when producers are pricing out location shoots.

“California is still the leader in production,” said Joe Chianese, senior vice president at Entertainment Partners, which tracks production incentives worldwide. “Producers would like to stay home if they can, but it boils down to the math.”

But even with the improvements to California’s film and TV tax credits, the state’s program still has limitations.

California has an annual funding cap of $750 million, has designated application windows and does allow the cost of actors’ salaries — a major driver of movie budgets — to be counted toward the tax breaks.

Beyond the program, the Golden State is just more expensive than other U.S. locales, and some filmmakers have criticized the red tape that makes shooting in L.A. more difficult.

“Can we be more competitive with a federal incentive? Absolutely,” Thompson said. “Can it completely turn the tide? I don’t know, but I hope so for our industry and our state.”

Industry stakeholders say they are hoping for quick movement on the issue, particularly since it will probably take more than a year after any tax credit is passed for producers to start making plans to move filming back to the U.S. due to lengthy production timelines for movies and TV shows.

“There is a ticking clock,” said Marshall of Epic. “If something isn’t done by the end of the year or in sight, there will be a further solidification of offshoring.”

For Peter Max-Muller, owner of The Ruby, a North Hollywood contemporary clothing rental business, the loss of film and TV shoots in L.A. is one of many threats his business faces, in addition to the use of AI production.

His sales typically mirror the production data from the nonprofit FilmLA, which recorded a 13% drop in shoot days in L.A. County in the second quarter over the same period a year ago.

The goal of a federal incentive, Max-Muller said, “is that we get that runaway production back.”

It’s why Friedman said she is pushing to get the tax credit legislation done as soon as possible.

“The film industry is deep in the identity of Los Angeles,” she said. “And it’s worth saving.”

Staff writer Ana Ceballos contributed to this report.

SYDNEY Sweeney has flashed her underboob in a very short lace crop top as she arrived to the Venice Film Festival.

The American actress, 28, is attending the city’s annual film festival in her role as an ambassador for Armani Beauty.

The Housemaid star looked stunning in a gold lace handkerchief top which she paired with a pair of cream bermuda shorts.

But the cheeky star, who turns 29 in a few days, couldn’t help flash a bit of underboob under her gorgeous short top.

This comes only a day after Sydney pulled down her skirt to reveal a bejeweled pink thong to celebrate her Birthday Boobs line launch.

In the sizzling snap, Sydney was seen standing in a kitchen whilst wearing pink flowery lingerie with a bow around her neck.

BIRTHDAY SUIT

Sydney Sweeney spills out of Syrn bra as she licks cake off her fingers

She is also seen pulling down her underwear with a look of surprise on her face.

It wasn’t the first time that Sydney had promoted her new birthday collection in the sexy pink lingerie.

Last week, she thrilled fans in the underwear as she baked a cake for a saucy video.

In one particularly raunchy scene, she slapped flour onto her backside and left hand prints all over bottom.

Sydney captioned the post: “celebrate my birthday month with my newest @syrn collection. coming september 1st.”

The actress went Instagram official with her new boyfriend Scooter Braun in April – as he gushed he’s a “lucky b******”.

Sydney confirmed the romance in a loved-up post, sending fans into a frenzy.

Meanwhile, Venice Film Festival’s red carpet events began last week with the premiere of British director Danny Boyle’s film Ink which is about the rise of media magnate Rupert Murdoch. 

It closes on September 12, with Italian costume drama Dio Ride (God Laughs), written and directed by Giovanni Veronesi.

WASHINGTON — President Trump on Monday urged Congress to approve federal tax incentives aimed at reviving American film and television productions, saying Hollywood has been hollowed out by productions moving to Canada and other countries.

In a social media post, Trump said he met with actor Jon Voight, whom he has designated as “Hollywood Ambassador,” and concluded there is “no incentive” to work in Hollywood anymore and that it is “hurting California very badly.”

“Jon, and many others in the Industry, are suggesting we do Federal Tax Incentives in order to Make our Movie and Television Production Business GREAT AGAIN, Perhaps GREATER THAN EVER BEFORE!,” Trump said wrote on Truth Social.

Trump said meetings are already being set up to talk to lawmakers from both parties, noting that he wants to the discussions to be bipartisan, “especially since so much money is being lost in California, and other largely Blue States.”

“I am going to suggest that Republicans and Democrats get together, and immediately craft Legislation to save the Movie, Television and Entertainment Business in America,” he said.

There are few details about what these incentives would look like at this time, but Trump said “the amount of money spent” on tax breaks will be made up “tenfold by the money pouring into the Treasury’s coffers.”

Charles Rivkin, chairman and chief executive of the Motion Picture Assn., applauded Trump’s announcement, and, in a statement, added that “for over a century, American studios, casts, and crews have produced the films and series that the world wants to see.”

“A federal incentive,” Rivkin added, “would be a landmark step toward bringing more production to local communities in all 50 states, strengthening our nation’s economy, and making our country a more competitive place to produce, create, and tell great stories.”

Trump’s push comes as production has continued to shift overseas. Last year, 45% of all U.S. films and scripted television shows were shot internationally, up from about 33% in 2022, an issue that has worried California lawmakers such as Sen. Adam Schiff (D-Calif.).

California and other states have bolstered their production incentive programs, but Schiff has said in the past that it is not enough. He, too, has made the case for a federal tax credit.

“State programs cannot simply substitute for the kind of global, federal and competitive tax incentives that are needed to bring production back to American soil and stop its offshoring,” Schiff said at an event in March. “The urgency could not be greater.”

Trump has previously floated more aggressive measures, including a threat to impose tariffs on foreign-made films, but that idea did not gain traction.

State lawmakers have approved a series of modest changes intended to bolster California’s film and TV tax credit program.

Among the key revisions, independent filmmakers would be exempted from the $5 million state corporate tax credit cap that was approved earlier this year as part of Gov. Gavin Newsom’s state budget.

Film industry advocates lobbied hard for a carve-out, saying the cap would undercut gains made under the current film and TV tax credit program at a time when Hollywood has been reeling from job losses.

The exemption is a compromise. Film industry advocates were hoping all types of producers would be exempt from the corporate tax cap.

The bill includes other changes intended to help Hollywood, such as allowing companies to carry forward older tax credits for up to 15 years (the old limit was nine) and reducing the discount they are charged when they opt to seek a cash refund on unused credits.

Producers will also be able to collect their refund money more quickly — within two years instead of five.

California offers tax credits of up to 35% on qualified expenses, which can be applied to any tax liabilities the production companies have in the state. The program allocates $750 million annually in film and TV tax breaks.

The budget trailer bill was introduced to the Senate on Friday by Assemblyman Rick Chavez Zbur (D-Los Angeles), chair of the Assembly Democratic Caucus and Senator Ben Allen (D-Santa Monica).

The new cap, issued by Gov. Newsom, would have undermined the “competitiveness” of the current California Film and Television Jobs Program, said the Entertainment Union Coalition, an advocacy group that supports the bill. But with these new modifications, the group — which represents the Directors Guild, SAG-AFTRA, IATSE and more — said the program will be able to continue to “support the fragile recovery of our industry here in California.”

“Most importantly, we want to recognize the major role our members played in today’s success as advocates for their industry in California,” Rebecca Rhine, the coalition’s president, said in a statement. “They sent an unprecedented 450,000 letters to the California legislature, making clear the negative impact that SB 122 [the new cap] would have on their livelihoods, their families, and their communities.”

Over the program’s first full year in its expanded $750-million form, the California Film Commission says it delivered $6.6 billion in direct production spending and $4.3 billion in qualified expenditures, supporting nearly 35,000 cast and crew jobs across 6,630 filming days statewide.

The bill cleared the Assembly floor by a vote of 68-2, with the Senate approving its companion measure by a vote of 32 in favor, 8 against the same day. It now awaits Gov. Newsom’s signature.

“It’s a good day that we took steps to strengthen the program and while we have to do more next year, this was a crucial first step,” Zbur said in an interview.

Zbur said he believes everyone in the state’s film and TV tax credit program should have been exempted from the corporate tax credit cap and he plans to look at that within the context of next year’s budget.

“There were budget implications to doing that, so we really did all the things that are viable to do in this legislative session,” Zbur said.

Phil Tippett, the visual effects artist who crafted aliens in “Star Wars” and dinosaurs in “Jurassic Park,” is shutting down his Berkeley-based studios after more than 40 years of business.

The closing was marked by a weekend liquidation sale, where fans purchased memorabilia from movies like “Star Wars,” “Jurassic Park,” “RoboCop” and “Starship Troopers.” The sale included models of Imperial Walkers from “The Empire Strikes Back,” “Starship Troopers” miniatures, signed posters and equipment like computers and 3D printers.

“We have recently decided to evolve our physical footprint and production approach, and to exit our longtime Berkeley facility,” said the company in a statement on social media. “As we make this transition, Tippett Studio continues its visual effects and animation work across film, television and entertainment.”

The closure follows Tippett‘s sale of a majority stake in the company to PhantomFX, an India-based VFX studio, in 2024 and the Chapter 11 bankruptcy filing that followed. PhantomFX has completed the acquisition of Tippett Studio and will operate the studios under the same name.

Tippett and his wife, Jules Roman, founded the studio in 1984, by which point he’d already made his name in the world of visual effects through his work on the original “Star Wars” trilogy. He was instrumental in doing the stop-motion miniature chess scene in “Star Wars: A New Hope,” bringing the Imperial Walkers to life and creating aliens like Jabba the Hutt and tauntauns.

Under his own studio, he became best known for the dinosaurs in Steven Spielberg’s “Jurassic Park,” using computer generation to animate the prehistoric creatures. He also worked on effects for “The Matrix” films, “Hellboy” and the “Twilight” franchise.

Tippett had occupied the 6,200-square-foot Berkeley facility for 35 years, but as technology evolves, the studio no longer needs the large space.

“Stop-motion remains an important part of our creative capabilities, but maintaining a large permanent physical footprint is no longer necessary for our current requirements,” wrote Tippett Studios. “When projects require dedicated stages, fabrication, motion-control photography or other specialised physical infrastructure, we will work with appropriate external facilities to meet the needs of each production.”

The company‘s Toronto studio will keep running and is “currently in active production on a large feature film,” per the same statement.

The downsizing comes amid a particularly challenging stretch for film and TV productions in California. Following Covid-19, labor strikes and the flight of major Hollywood productions to other states and countries, many specialty businesses such as prop houses and VFX studios are struggling to stay afloat.

Despite the sale, Tippett told CBS News he isn’t giving up or planning to retire. He does not have plans to retire. “I will die with my sword in my hand,” he said. “We had almost a 40-year run. It was a good run.”

Chris Hansen has not seen “Primetime,” the A24 film in which Robert Pattinson plays him, and he probably won’t anytime soon. He walked out of an Aug. 20 screening arranged for him at the studio’s Manhattan offices after refusing to sign a nondisclosure agreement, which he believed would prevent him from raising any legal objection to the way he is portrayed.

But Hansen’s company has purchased preshow advertising in theaters showing “Primetime,” which opens Sept. 25. The spots promote TruBlu, the subscription streaming platform where the former “Dateline NBC” correspondent presents his current sting operations under the title “Takedown.”

“It’s a movie that uses my name, image and likeness,” Hansen told The Times in a recent interview. “Why not direct people to what the real Chris Hansen is doing? Here’s where you can see it.”

Moviegoers, in other words, will be asked to have a seat twice.

The film revisits one of the most provocative and scrutinized franchises in the history of TV news. “To Catch a Predator,” which ran as a periodic “Dateline” investigation from 2004 to 2007, exposed men who used online chat rooms to solicit sex with minors. It accelerated the popularity of the true crime genre while raising lasting questions over journalistic ethics.

Directed by Lance Oppenheim in his narrative feature debut, “Primetime” is based on Luke Dittrich’s 2007 Esquire article “Tonight on Dateline, This Man Will Die,” about the suicide of a Texas prosecutor targeted by one of the stings. It premieres Sept. 5 at the Venice Film Festival.

Hansen, 66, is ready to ride the wave of notoriety the film is bound to generate. He is still pursuing online predators and a new generation of fans have found him on TruBlu, his YouTube page and on social media. “I’ve got to be the only 66-year-old man in America with 1.1 million TikTok followers,” he said.

Hansen first heard from A24 regarding “Primetime” when an executive reached out to him in late May to ask whether he would participate in promoting the film, according to emails obtained by The Times. Over the two months that followed, the journalist and his business partners repeatedly asked to see the film or a script before making any commitment. They also raised the possibility of compensation or a production credit, although Hansen said no formal request was made.

Hansen and his partners repeatedly raised concerns that he had never been contacted about the use of his name and likeness, even as a courtesy, before production was completed. The studio said it wasn’t necessary.

“Chris’s work was an important inspiration for ‘Primetime,’ which is a dramatized film inspired by true events,” according to an Aug. 8 email from A24. “While the film didn’t require individual consultation or permission during production, we’d love to have Chris’s support of the film to the extent he feels comfortable. If not, we certainly understand.”

An A24 representative declined to comment for this story. A person involved with the film who was not authorized to discuss the matter publicly said the nondisclosure agreement Hansen was asked to sign is standard for a movie screened ahead of release, so that viewers do not reveal plotlines or spoilers.

The trailer, released earlier in August, has generated buzz in media business circles for the appearance of Jeff Zucker, former NBCUniversal chief executive, who appears as himself in a small role as a ratings-hungry network executive. Pattinson’s Hansen is later seen in the trailer screaming, “I’ll be bigger than ‘Lost’!” in reference to the ABC hit.

Robert Pattinson in a scene from A24’s “Primetime.”

(Sinna Nasseri / A24)

Hansen said he is not looking for a payout from the filmmakers. But he would like a clearer statement that the film is fiction rather than “inspired by true events,” as it says in the trailer, and perhaps a financial contribution to organizations for victims of child predators.

“I want some recognition that they used my name, image, and likeness in a largely fictional story,” he said. “They used my name, my colleagues’ names and some family members. Based upon what I know about this, it’s an insult to the thousands of people who work diligently, often at great risk, every day to protect children from predators.”

The conflict is hardly the first involving a living celebrity objecting to a fictional depiction. But legal challenges are often futile.

“You don’t own your life story,” said Domenic Romano, managing partner at Romano Law. “If you’re a celebrity, the filmmaker doesn’t need your permission to dramatize it. Even if you’re alive and you don’t like how you’re being portrayed, the 1st Amendment gives broad protection.”

Actor Olivia de Havilland went to court in 2017 over the FX series “Feud: Bette & Joan,” claiming the portrayal of her as a vicious gossip damaged her reputation. The court ultimately ruled in FX’s favor.

Actor Daryl Hannah took a different route, publishing an opinion piece in the New York Times in March objecting to her depiction in FX’s “Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. & Carolyn Bessette.” Hannah, who dated Kennedy before he married Bessette, wrote: “In the weeks since the series aired, I have received many hostile and even threatening messages from viewers who seem to believe the portrayal is factual.”

“When entertainment borrows a real person’s name, it can permanently impact her reputation,” Hannah wrote.

The rise and fall of “To Catch a Predator” provides enough drama for a big-screen treatment.

During his run at NBC News, Hansen was an Emmy Award-winning correspondent delivering hidden-camera investigative stories on such topics as identity theft and sex trafficking. But his “Predator” franchise, which used online decoys in chat rooms to draw men seeking sex with minors into police stings turned him into a global sensation, albeit a polarizing one.

NBC News conducted the investigations with the help of a civilian watchdog group called Perverted-Justice and local police in the towns and cities where the stings were set up. The suspects arrested and convicted included a rabbi, a teacher and a doctor.

Decoys posing as young teens lured the men to sting locations, mostly set up at private homes in quiet communities. Hansen would then enter and confront the men with his signature line: “Have a seat.” After a chat with the correspondent (“You see how this looks, right?”), the men were arrested by local police, while a camera crew captured it all.

The tableau of Hansen going face-to-face with suspects seated in suburban kitchens became so familiar it was spoofed in a comedy sketch that opened the 2006 Emmy Awards.

“Predator” remained a giant hit until a November 2006 sting in Murphy, Texas, went awry. Bill Conradt, a Rockwell County assistant district attorney, had been exchanging online messages and photos with a decoy posing as a 13-year-old boy. Unlike other targets, he never came to the sting house. Police obtained warrants and a SWAT team came to his home with a “Dateline” crew in tow. He shot himself to death after law enforcement entered.

Conradt’s family sued NBC, which settled out of court. The incident sharpened the debate over Hansen’s tactics, and as the “Predator” franchise became more popular, he was criticized in journalism circles for collaborating with police and an outside group of private citizens in his investigative work.

There have been many accolades as well. Law enforcement organizations credited the program for shedding light on a new form of criminal activity in the then-emerging internet age. Over the years, Hansen has helped promote advocacy groups and legislation protecting the rights of sexual abuse victims.

“Dateline” continued producing “Predator” investigations for another year after Conradt‘s death, airing its final installment in December 2007 before NBC retired the franchise in early 2008. Hansen has long maintained that the show simply ran its course. The library of his episodes continued to air on cable news channel MSNBC, now called MS NOW.

Hansen left NBC News in 2013 after the network declined to renew his contract. He continued to orchestrate the sting operations on a short-lived syndicated series, “Crime Watch Daily.” He also became one of the first well-known TV journalists to use a Kickstarter campaign to raise money to produce his own work to present on web platforms, which eventually led to the TruBlu site he has now. He also has a podcast series distributed by Red Seat Ventures called “Have a Seat,” a true crime podcast where he interviews figures in law enforcement.

The Godfather, widely considered the greatest gangster film ever made, is being shown on BBC2 tonight at 10pm – starring Marlon Brando and Al Pacino

The Godfather, based on the much-loved gangland crime book of the same name, is widely accepted as “the best of all time” is on BBC tonight.

The 1969 novel by Mario Puzo was adapted for screen and directed by Francis Ford Coppola. The film was a smash hit and swept up during awards season with the performances revered as the best in cinema history.

With a stacked cast including Marlon Brando and Al Pacino to the film remains the gold standard for the crime genre today. One IMDb user said it is “One of the best of all time”, giving the film a solid 10/10 score.

Another wrote: “A flawless movie. This movie translates from the book perfectly!This movie made me want to be a director and create film. Everyone’s acting was perfect. To think that Puza wrote this specifically to make a hit is at first crazy.”

More than five decades since its release, The Godfather continues to command a devoted following, and tonight you can watch it on BBC Two, completely free of charge.

The story follows the shady underground world of the Corleone crime family. It scooped up three Oscars for Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay, with Brando also claiming Best Actor.

An IMDb review said: “A masterclass in film making, is The Godfather a contender for the best film of all time? I’d argue the case that it is, this is the ultimate gangster movie.

“Before you panic at the thought of a film being almost three hours long, you needn’t, you won’t even notice the time, it flies by. Production values are incredible, it looks sublime the whole way through, it’s so well produced, at roughly fifty years old it puts many new films to shame.

“Brandon, Pacino and Castellano, just a few of the Incredible performances, I could add a whole lot more. If you’re considering buying a hard copy, I would recommend it on blu ray, it is sharper than the dvd, there is a difference. This film has had a huge influence down the years, it is still, and will forever be, one of the greatest, 10/10. “

Another wrote: “This movie is strong, good script, great casting, excellent acting, and over the top directing. It is hard to fine a movie done this well, it is 29 years old and has aged well.

“Even if the viewer does not like mafia type of movies, he or she will watch the entire film, the audiences is glued to what will happen next as the film progresses. Its about, family, loyalty, greed, relationships, and real life. This is a great mix, and the artistic style make the film memorable.”

The Godfather will be on BBC2 at 10pm.

Hollywood A-listers are more comfortable than ever with cloning their voice and likeness to create a new stream of income, despite the threat of viewer backlash to artificial intelligence.

Sunny Hostin of the popular daily talk show “The View” has licensed her image and likeness to AI production studio Fountain 0, which will make film adaptations of her novels.

“To be able to bring my novels to life in movie and TV form, and actually have my image inserted in the productions, so that audiences can relate to me through my stories beyond my role as an author, is incredibly exciting to me,” Hostin said in a statement.

“AI can give me a way to both more fully develop, and more fully immerse myself in, IP I have developed,” she said.

The Overton window for acceptable AI use in Hollywood continues to widen as Hollywood actors, television hosts, and influencers embrace cloning with protections and compensation. As high-quality synthetic re-creations become cheap and accessible, cloning has become a more desirable option for studios struggling with runaway production costs.

Audiences will be subject to more AI content on the big screen that’s indistinguishable from real human performances.

Fountain 0 is the producer behind “Dreams of Violets,” a fully AI-generated film inspired by anti-government protests in Tehran. The 75-minute drama was made with a budget of $2,000 without a cast or a crew, and was the first fully AI-generated film accepted at the Tribeca Film Festival.

“We are incredibly gratified that Sunny is willing to be the talent pioneer willing to step out and take advantage of this new form of creative expression,” said Ash Koosha, co-founder and CEO of Fountain 0, in a release.

The production company will be releasing its second fully AI-generated film, “Odysseus: The Fall,” later this year. The film uses the likeness of many people, including the film’s creator Koosha, who stars as Odysseus.

Fountain 0’s executive chariman told CNBC that the film is designed to ride the buzz around Christopher Nolan’s ‘’The Odyssey” and give people the opportunity to compare the height of human filmmaking with AI filmmaking.

Proponents of AI argue that it allows writers and creators to take on blockbuster-scale films without financial constraints. Many creators oppose AI because it could replace humans and was built using the unauthorized scraping of creative works used to train generative AI video and image models.

Online reactions to news of Hostin’s cloning were fierce.

“Basically, no film studio wants to give her the budget to turn her books into a movie with real actors, so she’s resorting to AI studios,” wrote one person on Reddit.

Hollywood has fought hard for protections from AI in the prolonged writers’ and actors’ strikes of 2023. SAG-AFTRA, the union representing about 160,000 actors and other performers, has been demanding informed consent, fair compensation, more control and transparency over the use of digital replicas.

The latest agreement, signed in June, introduced limits on studios’ use of digital replicas. The contract requires studios to notify actors before using their voices to create a replica. After a project is complete, actors must sign off and be paid the equivalent of an in-person performance if their replica is used.

Additionally, studios need to pay residuals to digital replicas used in reruns, and replicas cannot be used during a strike.

Hiring fully AI-generated characters such as Tilly Norwood, created without hiring a human performer, is not impossible but comes with a very high threshold for use under the 2026 union contract. Producers must notify the union in advance and prove the AI character brings “significant additional value” to the role.

Still, a fissure remains between those actors who stay morally opposed to cloning, and those who embrace this new reality.

ElevenLabs’ voice marketplace features clones of dozens of personalities — including actress Judy Garland, physicist Richard Feynman and popular characters such as Mr. Potato Head for creators to legally license and get compensated for their use.

This has created a contentious ecosystem in which A-listers are gaining millions from cloning with safeguards and building a new stream of passive income from their intellectual property, while early-career actors complain that their likenesses are being misappropriated and opportunities are being driven away. A massive lobbying effort is underway to institute a uniform standard for protecting an individual’s voice and likeness as property rights.

When it comes to romantic comedies, it’s not where it’s going — that’s a foregone conclusion — but how it gets there. The way the central couple navigates the twists, turns, roadblocks and unforced errors that entangle their budding relationship is the beating heart of these films. It’s what sets each one apart and delivers its entertainment value. That’s the test: pass or fail.

Which brings us to “Finding Emily,” a sweet new entry from Working Title Films, the producer of such gold-standard rom-coms as “Four Weddings and a Funeral,” “Notting Hill” and “Love Actually.” It may not be destined for a place alongside those favorites, but “Emily” has a wonky charisma all its own that just might satisfy fans of those British charmers.

Or not.

That’s because the film’s journey, which follows Owen, a struggling musician (Spike Fearn) searching for his vanished dream girl with a hand from a cynical psychology student (Angourie Rice), may not feel quite captivating or propulsive enough to carry its pie-in-the-sky story to its inevitable finale. As someone behind me at the end of the film’s screening said, “Well, that plane took a while to land.” I can’t fully disagree.

Fortunately, the movie, inventively directed by first-time feature helmer Alicia MacDonald, is anchored by a pair of winning performances by Fearn (“Alien: Romulus,” “Ella McCay”) and Rice (2024’s “Mean Girls” musical). Their quirky, endearing moments and oddball chemistry often patch over — or at least divert us from — the contrivances and bits of filler in Rachel Hirons’ busy script.

Owen, who works as a sound engineer at the Manchester City University student union, falls headfirst for an enchanting redhead (wearing fairy wings, no less) named Emily (Sadie Soverall), whom he meets at a party. But when he tries to text her the next day, he realizes the number she gave him is missing a digit. Was that on purpose or an accident?

No matter, Owen is obsessed with finding her, even if he doesn’t know her last name and there are 318 Emilys in the campus directory. A false lead misdirects him to one of those women, Emily Raine (Rice), a psych major writing her thesis on the “self-sabotaging madness” of romance. It’s a theory clearly waiting to be blown to smithereens.

Their meet-cute develops into an offbeat friendship when the “wrong Emily” (is she really?) offers to help lovestruck Owen track down the “right Emily” (is she really?), secretly using him as a real-life case study to nail her dissertation. If she succeeds, the Iowa transplant will be able to secure the work visa she needs to stay in her adopted England.

It’s a device that adds to the character’s urgency, if not her likability. Though in true rom-com fashion, this Emily is appealing in other required ways — and is also adorable. The plot kicks into high gear when, again to fuel her thesis, she deviously provides Owen with a contact list of every Emily in the college database and suggests he mass-email them to locate the elusive, fairy-winged Emily.

This goes all kinds of wrong, setting off a viral brouhaha and turning the hapless Owen into an unwitting pariah. The loud-and-proud gang of Emilys brands him a stalker and a “toxic incel” (as well as the jauntier “Email Guy”). The mania is compounded by Owen’s stab at damage control when he appears on a campus podcast hosted by a savvy button-pusher (Nadia Parkes, pitch-perfect), unaware the show is going out live on video. Oh, and none of this results in a response from his desired Emily.

Amusing and brightly satirical as this turn of events is, it begins to feel more like a tempest in a teapot than the sustainable story engine Hirons was aiming for.

The film hits its predictable highs and lows as the mismatched Owen and Emily get closer and romantic complications mount. The search for “Fairy Emily” yields some anticlimactic results.

Still, there’s a kind of hip, comfort food aspect to the entire enterprise that keeps it an easy, if slightly cluttered and overlong watch. (See plane-landing comment.) MacDonald makes superb use of the story’s Manchester backdrop. The city’s vibrant neighborhoods and residents, along with its dynamic music scene, practically form their own character.

The vivid, at times overly kinetic supporting cast includes Prasanna Puwanarajah as Emily’s egotistical psych professor, Timothy Innes as her oblivious crush and Cora Kirk as her supportive, strong-willed flatmate; Jack Riddiford and Isabella Laughland as Owen’s brother and his better half; and Kat Ronney as a take-no-prisoners student body president — also named Emily. Minnie Driver is sadly underused as the school’s detached dean.

So does “Finding Emily” pass the aforementioned rom-com test? Flaws aside, it’s ultimately a pleasant enough way to beat the heat, grab a few laughs, take in a fine soundtrack and find yourself in some good company. But even if your name happens to be Emily, you won’t be fully swept away.

Hig (Jacob Elordi) may be the most perfect guy alive, not that he’s got much competition. In Ridley Scott’s simple-minded sociological study “The Dog Stars,” an influenza epidemic wiped out the majority of our squabblesome species sometime during the last decade. The LCD screens outside the Denver Nuggets basketball arena continue to flicker, although weeds and wolves have overrun the fast-food joints in a bit of postapocalyptic product placement.

A former mechanic and construction worker, Hig lives 25 miles north of the city on what appears to be a combination high school football field/rural airport. Periodically, the soft-spoken and generous man flies his Cessna into town to scavenge soda pop for a dozen or so cherubic Mennonite children on a nearby homestead. Those wholesome visits seem to cheer him up a little, what with the kids’ minder (Benedict Wong) striding around in a straw hat and overalls like something out of Norman Rockwell, and the youngsters thanking Hig with crayoned portraits of his doting German shepard, Jasper. Still, he’s bummed out about his dead wife (Sai Bennett), who, like most dead movie wives, appears in flashbacks as beatific, mute and adoring.

The script by Mark L. Smith (“The Revenant”) wants us to fret that Hig may succumb to suicide but whiffs that idea by trying to get it across in a scene where Hig shuts off the Cessna’s engine mid-flight with Jasper happily riding shotgun. Even if we were willing to accept that Hig might deliberately crash his plane, we can’t buy for a second that he’d hurt his sweet pup. Nevertheless, the film’s dystopian beats are so familiar, you’ve probably guessed by now that you shouldn’t get too attached to the dog.

Hig has bunkered down with a grouchy companion, Bangley (Josh Brolin), who thrives in this harsh world. To Bangley, the four essentials of life are “power, food, water and weapons.” Their armory is formidable; their cash supply, a source of comic relief. At night, Hig and Bangley play poker with stacks of $5,000 bills that they throw around as casually as nickels. Patrolling their two-man compound, Bangley insists on killing all outsiders before they might cause any trouble. Adding insult to headshot, he calls his casualties “cockroaches.”

Soon, Hig will meet a freckled widow named Cima (Margaret Qualley) and her suspicious father, Pops (Guy Pearce). The young pair make eyes at each other. Yet these survivors are so hard-wired to be fearful of their neighbors that Hig and Cima’s rusty, tentative flirtation takes place under the gaze of her daddy’s gun, a heck of a chaperone. The most they get up to is heavy spooning.

This is an uncomplicated yarn about a man prying open his heart and nudging other hard nuts to do the same. There’s little tension or drive, just shaggy scenes about paranoia, trust and hope. The characters seem to endure only to get to their next traumatic memory reveal.

At once plain-spoken and vague, the story lacks a firm grip on facts like the distance between places and how long this mess has been going on. It snatches at our attention with no more finesse than a losing fighter fumbling for a weapon. Hig’s Cessna works fine until it’s narratively convenient that it doesn’t. Then when needed, it works again. Meanwhile, Brolin’s Bangley oscillates in personality from miserable bastard to laugh factory.

At 88, Scott remains the cinema’s uneasy philosopher, continually fretting about the technological and societal tools we’ve developed to destroy ourselves. He’s made one genuinely optimistic film, 2015’s “The Martian,” which also happens to be his biggest box office success. Other than that, he’s never seemed confident that the future will turn out all right, although he’s kept on working out his worries onscreen, forever hunting for flakes of hope in the rubble. (If you take Scott’s IMDb as gospel, he’s got seven upcoming features in various stages of preproduction, more than George Lucas has ever made.)

“The Dog Stars” is based on Peter Heller’s 2012 novel of the same name, which, in those naive, pre-COVID times, was received as a rosier take on Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road.” Scott’s version of“The Dog Stars” borrows its title, premise and a handful of proper names. Otherwise, it’s loud where the book was quiet and subtle where the book got sweaty. A barrage of newly concocted action sequences in the second half makes the pacing so off-balance that the film feels like a heron trying to fly with one blinged-out wing.

I’m only half-complaining — those giddy, bloody scenes are the best parts of the movie. But we in the audience could have used some of that pizzazz at the beginning, too, before we spent nearly an hour settling into the idea that we’ve seen all of this before.

The attackers to come are a bizarre grab bag of baddies. One gang wears football pads as armor and comes galloping in on horses, whooping like the Apaches in a John Ford movie. Another horde, the Reapers, runs around shirtless to show off their thick black tattoos. The Reapers look awesome through cinematographer Erik Messerschmidt’s night-vision binoculars that make their skin glow an alien shade of green. Neither group comes across like human beings. The film handles them more like zombies or rabid raccoons, and since these extras are the only characters of color, I won’t fault anyone who finds their treatment morally queasy.

Late in the film, we also meet a third group headed by Allison Janney doing a cap-tip to Nurse Ratched as the soundtrack cues the mind-numbing waltz from “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” Otherwise, Harry Gregson-Williams’ meddlesome score tells us everything that’s about to happen 30 seconds before it does. Besides Janney and Qualley’s plucky Cima (what in the made-up name is that?), few grown women seem to be left alive for reasons probably better left unsaid. (A goon in the book wears a necklace made of dried labia. Scott sagely omits that detail.)

Elordi nearly shoulders the running time but plays his Hig a bit too humbly. I’ve rarely seen Elordi wearing his lanky, handsome screen presence comfortably; something about the actor usually seems to be apologizing for his own existence. His recessive Hig needs more charisma so we can care about him as a character, not just an idealized hero. But you like him anyway. How can you not when Hig is giving his dog a good scratch?

Having lived through a seismic pandemic himself, it makes sense that Scott would be drawn to the original novel’s blend of patience and poetry. Yet, it’s odd how little of it he’s kept. To hold my own interest, I imagined myself as a hunter-explorer trying to figure out why Scott had bothered to adapt it at all, and turned up a line where Brolin’s Bangley looks back on his old life and admits that he couldn’t understand what he had until it was gone. A lovely moment, although I don’t believe it’s in the book either.

That’s the theme of this rote exercise. But I preferred a minor beat a few minutes later when a character puts down their gun and picks up a guitar. Bad as this world feels, there’s still pleasure in making art. Which is why Scott keeps at it, too — and while I don’t think much of this one, I’m awful glad he does.

THE new Ali G film is facing a cinema boycott as a major UK chain “have no plans” to show the sequel.

The movie mockumentary revives Sacha Baron Cohen‘s famous character after the original movie was unveiled 24 years ago.

The brand new film, Ali G: Who Iz I?, sees Sacha play the character once more in a ‘real-life’ setting.

But in a surprise move, Picturehouse Cinemas, which has 25 cinemas across the UK, will not show the upcoming film after its release in October.

Media watchdog NewsCord demanded cinemas to refuse to screen the film due to “satire using a cover for enforcing racist stereotypes”.

The platform claimed Baron Cohen had “enforced harmful stereotypes across marginalised communities through his characters”.

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So far they have sent around 27, 000 emails from supporters to cinemas nationwide to stress their concerns.

In a statement, Picturehouse confirmed to Metro: “We currently do not have any plans to screen this film on its release.”

NewsCord also claimed that the film’s studio Amazon MGM had “revived a racist caricature”.

Joining Ali G in the flick will be his girlfriend, Julie, played by actress and impressionist, Morgana Robinson.

She filmed the role alongside Sacha in secret over the course of a year and replaces EastEnders star Kellie Bright in the part.

In the movie, she will be revealed to be eight months pregnant – something that the characters struggle to get their head around.

In one of the clips from the film’s preview, they can be seen at a doctor’s office with Ali G begging the doctor to simply say that Julie is “bloated” and not actually pregnant – despite her visible baby bump.

He later puts her positive pregnancy test in his mouth and pretends to use it as a vape.

Elsewhere, the trailer sees Ali G poking fun at Ed Sheeran as he remarks on what the world has ‘survived’ since the original movie’s release in 2002 and insisted things had “turned to c**p”.

Speaking in the trailer, he said: “I’ve been gone for 20 years, chilling.

“And in that time, the world went to c**p.

“There’s been Wars. Covid. And Ed Sheeran.”

He continued: “I’m going to get back on top with a brand new thing called a ‘documentary.’

“For the first time ever, this is with real people not actors. For more than a year we let the cameras follow me everywhere.

“Nothing was off limits.”

The film is expected to be released in cinemas on October 23 with the movie being distributed by Amazon MGM.

The character was first introduced by Sacha on Channel 4‘s The 11 O’Clock Show in 1998 before the character became even more widely known for the 2000 sketch comedy series, Da Ali G Show.

Famous for its walls bearing scribbles and sketches left behind by patrons for over 60 years, El Batey, a bar in Old San Juan, is a Puerto Rican institution serving locals and tourists alike.

It was inside this famed establishment that filmmakers Lorraine Jones Molina and Cristian Carretero first met one night back in 2008. Since then, the two have joined forces in both life and art; they are a married couple, as well as parents and close collaborators on film projects.

Their first feature, “Esta Isla,” which is now available on VOD, made history as the first Puerto Rican film to win at the Independent Spirit Awards in February, taking home the John Cassavetes Award honoring a production made for under $1 million. At the 2025 Tribeca Film Festival, it received three prizes, including best new narrative director.

A politically charged, coming-of-age road-trip movie, “Esta Isla” follows Bebo (Zion Ortiz), a young man from the “caserios,” or projects, and Lola (Fabiola Victoria Brown), a well-off girl unhappy in her bubble of privilege. Violence forces Bebo to run away to the mountains. Lola tags along and together they come across a series of people who expand their worldview.

There’s a grounded, earthy lyricism to the images captured in “Esta Isla” that show a Puerto Rico that’s at once lush and entrancing but also undiscovered and unseen in cinema.

Fabiola Brown, pictured above, plays “Lola” in the new Puerto Rican film “Esta Isla.”

(Experimento Ludico)

Key to their professional success thus far, the filmmakers believe, is their loving personal bond. “We’re always together and talking about ideas. When we were working on ‘Esta Isla,’ it helped a lot to really dig deep and have long conversations about certain details and topics,” Carretero says during a recent video call. “We do mostly everything ourselves, just me and Lorrie. Sometimes I do camera, Lorrie does sound. We keep it pretty small.”

In 2010, Carretero and Jones Molina founded the production company called Experimento Lúdico in the western town of Mayagüez with the intent of decentralizing production on the island. Most opportunities for filmmaking are still based in the San Juan metropolitan area.

“I’m from Arecibo, from the north, and Cristian is from here, from Mayagüez. That’s part of who we are, and we want to tell these stories from here. It’s part of resisting. It feels like somebody has to do this,” Jones Molina says with a laugh, while sitting next to Carretero.

Lorraine Jones Molina and Cristian Carretero are the filmmakers behind the Puerto Rican road trip movie “Esta Isla.”

(Experimento Ludico)

When Carretero and Jones Molina first met, it was the documentary scene that sustained Puerto Rican cinema because those stories could be told with fewer resources. Karen Rossi’s 2007 environmentalist doc “Isla Chatarra,” for example, inspired Jones Molina.

She and Carretero later directed the 2016 medium-length doc “Seeds, Chronicles of the Earth,” about GMO experimentation on the island.

Most of the fiction production on the island then pertained to Hollywood films, such as “Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides” (2011). In the 2010s, however, a string of fiction films, including Ari Maniel Cruz’s “Under My Nails” (2012) and “Before a Rooster Crows” (2016) and Ángel Manuel Soto’s “La Granja” (2015), pushed local storytelling forward.

And while those movies, just like “Esta Isla,” don’t address the socioeconomic issues facing Puerto Ricans didactically, their mere existence is in itself a statement. “Making Puerto Rican films in Puerto Rico is political,” says Jones Molina. “Talking about who we are, our identity, our culture, our history and saying that we are here and we exist is political.”

Residents in San Juan are currently experiencing a water crisis, and while the scarcity hasn’t directly affected Jones Molina and Carretero in Mayagüez, this problem is not new and has only turned more urgent in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria.

That’s why they deliberately wrote a scene in “Esta Isla” showing people getting water from a water truck.

“It’s crazy that we filmed that a couple of years ago to talk about that issue, and it’s just gotten worse,” says Carretero. “Now we have a drought, and you have to have water rationing. It’s something that is reflective of a bigger problem in the island: the neglect of the most important needs of the citizens.”

Puerto Rico’s status as a colony of the U.S., where the interests of corporations supersede the well-being of the local population, is the source of many of its challenges. And for a long time, even referring to Puerto Rico as a colony was taboo. A history of persecution on behalf of the U.S. government ingrained fear in Puerto Ricans.

“The FBI would keep ‘carpetas,’ or files with information on regular people, who were suspected of organizing or fighting for independence,” Carretero says. “People were being surveilled by the FBI, and they’d pay family members or people they knew to survey them.”

“Esta Isla” touches on the troubled relationship between Puerto Rico and the U.S. via Lola’s deceased father, who is a stand-in for Filiberto Ojeda Ríos, a Puerto Rican revolutionary and leader of the pro-independence militant group Los Macheteros. After years on the run, the FBI assassinated him in 2005. In the film, the character Cora (Teofilo Torres) lives in the mountains and works the land. The location used for his house carries great significance.

“The inside shots, with the bullet holes, and the windows, and the books, all of that is from Filiberto’s actual house where he was assassinated,” says Jones Molina. “When you go there, you see all those bullet holes; it’s heavy.”

To that, Carretero adds: “There’s an inferiority complex that the colony perpetuates, which has to do with not knowing where you come from. Once you know all these names and all the stories of women and men who’ve worked for the good of Puerto Rican people, here and in the States, it opens up this whole other space for inspiration that’s from our ancestors”

Carretero and Jones Molina found the core concept for “Esta Isla” on the first page of Octavio Paz’s seminal novel “The Labyrinth of Solitude,” where the Mexican author discusses adolescence as a moment in a person’s life where they open up to the world, while at the same time noting that societies themselves also go through a coming-of-age.

Zion Ortiz, pictured above, plays “Bebo” in the new Puerto Rican film “Esta Isla.”

(Experimento Ludico)

“Puerto Rico is still an evolving organism. It’s a country, a people and a culture still evolving,” Carretero explains. “We’re still trying to understand who we are and where we’re going. Are we a country? Are we not? Are we part of the U.S., or not? Are we Americanos, or somos latinoamericanos? Tantas preguntas that are still unresolved.”

Jones Molina continues: “There’s this idea that you have to just be grateful that you’re a part of the United States and don’t complain. But when you question that, and when you want to really look at why you love and care about your country and your culture and want to educate yourself, then you’re definitely going through this kind of coming-of-age.”

For this filmmaking couple, reaching maturity as artists forged in the complex context of a modern colony hinges on acknowledging their limitations and still persevering.

“We also wanted to show that you can make films with very little; you don’t have to wait for the perfect moment or all the different resources. That’s what we call tropical realism. Not only the style of the filmmaking, but it’s also the means, and how that matches your reality,” explains Carretero. “We cannot pretend to be something that we are not. We have to develop our own language, our own way of filming, our way of telling our stories.”