Sundance Film Festival, a beacon for independent cinema, kicked off this year under a cloud of sorrow, mourning the loss of its founder, Robert Redford, and adjusting to its relocation from its long-time home, Park City. But is the festival losing its touch? The opening narrative premiere, "Carousel," starring Chris Pine and Jenny Slate, has sparked a debate: Is it a poignant exploration of love and loss, or a lackluster drama lost in its own static? It's a question worth asking, especially considering the festival's history of launching impactful indie films.
"Carousel" embodies the quintessential small, character-driven American indie film – the very lifeblood of Sundance for nearly half a century. These are the kinds of films that, as the film industry landscape evolves, increasingly struggle to break out beyond the festival bubble. Think of "A Little Prayer," a quietly compelling film that premiered at Sundance back in 2023, yet barely saw a release until late last summer, reaching a tragically small audience. The current climate is harsh for films like "Carousel," and while many yearn for a resurgence of this subgenre's prominence, evoking memories of the 90s and early 2000s, "Carousel" struggles to ignite strong feelings. And this is the part most people miss... it's not just about the film itself, but the ecosystem that supports (or fails to support) these kinds of stories.
That tepid reaction becomes a significant hurdle for a film centered on the intoxicating, overwhelming nature of love, both found and lost, where emotions should be at the forefront. Writer-director Rachel Lambert clearly aims to enchant the audience, employing lush musical scores (though occasionally, the sound mixing renders some songs a bit too consuming) and lingering, affectionate shots of nature. Her persistence does yield moments of beauty. Her previous Sundance entry, "Sometimes I Think About Dying" (2024), shared a similar sensory appeal, both films capturing the captivating allure of a certain leafy, small-town existence. However, direction alone can only achieve so much. Despite her best efforts to draw us into the story through visual and aural artistry, her uneven and underdeveloped script simply doesn't command the level of attention she seems to believe it deserves. But here's where it gets controversial: is it the script that's failing, or is it our increasingly short attention spans that struggle with subtlety and nuance?
The actors valiantly attempt to convince us of deeper layers beneath the surface. Chris Pine, who has seemed somewhat adrift in recent roles, makes a compelling argument for a later-stage career in smaller, more dialogue-driven projects. He convincingly portrays an emotionally stunted doctor navigating his 40s, grappling with a struggling practice (featuring underused supporting performances from Sam Waterston and Heléne Yorke from "The Other Two") and a daughter (Abby Ryder Fortson of "Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret") battling anger and anxiety. Then, the reappearance of a long-lost love (Jenny Slate) holds the potential to lead him to the happiness he's been missing. However, the question remains: Is Pine's performance enough to elevate the material?
This is classic Sundance territory, which isn't inherently negative. However, Lambert proves too hesitant to immerse us fully in her characters' lives, offering only fleeting, often frustratingly shallow glimpses. It's difficult to discern what we should be invested in, as Lambert makes the common error of mistaking underwritten for subtle. As the impact of her directorial skills diminishes, we're left with a script populated by characters we neither truly know nor particularly care about. A prolonged and messy argument between the central couple in the final act is effectively staged and performed, but we observe it as if eavesdropping on a couple in a restaurant, captivated by the intensity of their emotions yet genuinely unsure of the subject of their dispute. It feels like a clumsily condensed miniseries, with scenes and characters trimmed for time. Despite the evident chemistry between Pine and Slate (enough to fuel a stronger film), we remain uncertain about the individuals we're watching. This raises the question: Is the film's ambiguity intentional, a reflection of the characters' own uncertainties, or simply a result of underdeveloped writing?
We're left to fill in the numerous gaps, but the effort becomes increasingly draining as a sense of listlessness emanates from the screen and infects the audience. Lambert does identify some intriguing themes – the complexities of parenting a child who isn't biologically one's own, the process of navigating the youthful abandon of romance as a mature adult. However, she fails to find an emotionally satisfying resolution for these themes, and an excessively sentimental romantic ending leaves us entirely unmoved. "Carousel," like many unremarkable Sundance films, spins endlessly without a destination. But let's be honest, is there too much pressure on Sundance films to be groundbreaking masterpieces?
What did you think of "Carousel"? Did you find the performances compelling, or did the script leave you wanting more? Do you think indie films like "Carousel" have a future in today's film landscape, or are they destined to remain niche festival fare? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
