At the Cannes Film Festival last year, there were not one but two genre-bending, metaphorical movies that revisited the deadly AIDS crisis of the 1980s.

The first was Palme d’Or laureate Julia Ducournau’s explosive and overzealous body horror flick, Alpha, in which the infected became living and breathing human sculptures, their skin hardening into marble that looked real enough to cut into a fabulous kitchen countertop.

The second and less buzzy feature was debuting Chilean director Diego Céspedes’ The Mysterious Gaze of the Flamingo (La misteriosa mirada del flamenco), which walked away with the top prize in the fest’s Un Certain Regard sidebar. In this touchingly surreal story, AIDS is an unknown plague transmitted by looking too lovingly into the eyes of the infected, causing turmoil among the inhabitants of a remote mining town in the desert.

Céspedes captures this strange phenomenon through the viewpoint of a preteen girl, Lidia (Tamara Cortés), who lives with her trans mother, the titular Flamenco (Matías Catalán), in a ramshackle bordello populated by a rowdy gang of sex workers. The place is run by Mama Boa (Paula Dinamarca), a tough-loving madam who doesn’t mind giving a difficult client a good kick in the nuts from time to time.

It’s certainly a unique setting, and some of what happens in Flamingo seems too outlandish to be true. But things suddenly turn tragic in the last act, and what felt frivolous or folkloric becomes deadly serious when Lidia is forced to face what’s happening around her.

Until then, the story follows the pugnacious 11-year-old as she’s harassed by boys at the local swimming hole while witnessing her mom’s declining health at home. Their lives are soon at risk when one of Flamenco’s clients, Yovani (Pedro Muñoz), shows up with symptoms of the disease and blames her for his sickness, threatening to take revenge.

The gunslinging miner belongs to a band of angry men who show up at the bordello and surround it like a posse from the Wild West. But instead of delivering the usual shootout at that point, Céspedes transforms what could have been a nasty brawl into a gentle snuggle-fest between the sex workers and their unlikely lovers.

In the world of Flamingo, macho attitudes and transphobia give way to tenderness, especially during a bittersweet wedding sequence in which Mama Boa marries the bearded old prospector, Clemente (Luis Dubó). Another memorable scene involves an annual talent contest in which Flamenco lip-syncs a Latino ballad in full drag, mesmerizing all the hardened miners who’ve come to watch her perform.

Despite its bleak subject, there’s plenty of joy and warmth on display in Céspedes’ first feature, which is reminiscent of other recent Chilean fare like Sebastián Silva’s Rotting in the Sun and Sebastián Lelio’s A Fantastic Woman, both of which inventively combined genre plots with LGBTQ themes. Flamingo goes overboard on the surrealism at times, but by ultimately focusing on how Lidia comes to terms with the reality of the AIDS epidemic, it delivers a solid emotional blow by the end.

Shot in a pared-down but colorful style by Angello Faccini, Flamingo makes the most out of its limited budget and picturesque locations, which include an arid mountain range straight out of a spaghetti Western. Most of the action takes place in a dusty one-horse town whose residents have chosen to open themselves up both sexually and spiritually, paying the ultimate price for their tolerance.

Writer Neil Gaiman denied sexual misconduct allegations first brought forth against him over a year and a half ago in a statement released Monday.

Gaiman, the bestselling fantasy author behind “The Sandman” comic books, and novels and shows “American Gods” and “Good Omens,” called the allegations, which emerged in the summer of 2024, a “smear campaign” that are “simply and completely untrue.”

“These allegations, especially the really salacious ones, have been spread and amplified by people who seemed a lot more interested in outrage and getting clicks on headlines rather than whether things had actually happened or not,” Gaiman wrote.

Five women first accused the 65-year-old British author of sexual misconduct in the summer of 2024, appearing in the Tortoise Media podcast “Master: The Allegations Against Neil Gaiman.” The women claimed Gaiman had them call him “master” during their alleged sexual encounters.

Eight women then accused the author of assault, abuse and coercion in an article published by New York magazine just over a year ago.

Scarlett Pavlovich, Gaiman’s former nanny, filed a lawsuit against the author and his estranged wife Amanda Palmer, almost exactly a year ago, accusing the couple of human trafficking. She alleged that she was brutally and repeatedly raped and sexually assaulted by Gaiman while working for the couple without pay.

“Gaiman repeatedly physically and emotionally abused Scarlett, raping her vaginally and anally, humiliating her, forcing her into sexual conduct in front of Gaiman’s child, and forcing her to touch and lick feces and urine,” the complaint states. Gaiman called Pavlovich “slave” and ordered her to call him “master,” the complaint states.

The abuse took place while Pavlovich was providing babysitting services for the couple in New Zealand in 2022, according to the suit.

All other allegations against the author stemmed from the 1990s to 2022, when he was living in the United States, Britain and New Zealand.

The author has sold more than 50 million copies of his books worldwide, and many have received film and television adaptations over the years. His work drew a large female readership, typically uncommon for comic-book writers. The allegations clashed with the self-proclaimed feminist writer’s public persona.

Gaiman has spent the last year out of the spotlight, after publishing company Dark Horse Comics cut ties with him shortly after the New York magazine article was published. Gaiman was also dropped from various film and TV adaptations of his work, including the final season of Amazon’s “Good Omens” and the streamer’s new “Anansi Boys” TV series.

He was also left out of press for the final season of Netflix’s “The Sandman” last year and Disney halted development of “The Graveyard Book” months after the initial allegations.

The author last publicly addressed the allegations a day after the New York magazine article was released, and wrote he had stayed quiet “both out of respect for the people who were sharing their stories and out of a desire not to draw even more attention to a lot of misinformation.”

At the time, Gaiman wrote that he “could have and should have done so much better,” admitting that he “was obviously careless with people’s hearts and feelings, and that’s something that I really, deeply regret. It was selfish of me. I was caught up in my own story and I ignored other people’s.”

Gaiman’s most recent statement comes just days after an unidentified Substack user who goes by TechnoPathology posted the latest in a series of articles over the last year defending the fantasy author.

Gaiman claimed he hasn’t been in contact with the anonymous poster but would “like to thank them personally for actually looking at the evidence and reporting what they found, which is not what anyone else had done.”

He said “the actual evidence was dismissed or ignored” by most reporting, including “mountains” of “emails, text messages and video evidence that flatly contradict” the claims.

The author also announced in the statement that he’s been working on a book throughout the “strange, turbulent and occasionally nightmarish year and a half.” The project is his longest since the 450-plus-page “American Gods,” he said.

“It’s a rough time for the world,” Gaiman wrote. “I look at what’s happening on the home front and internationally, and I worry; and I am still convinced there are more good people out there than the other kind.”

After the death of her husband, Emily (Kelly Marie Tran) doesn’t know what to do. Her daughter Gracie (Aria Kim) hasn’t spoken in the six months since her father’s passing, and seems to be withdrawing more and more every day. Her mother-in-law, Nai Nai (Fiona Fu), copes with her son’s death through traditional Chinese spirituality, which she shares with her granddaughter. But Emily is Vietnamese and doesn’t speak the language. It’s just now that her husband is gone that Emily is forced to confront the cultural gap between her and those closest to her. Only showing her grief privately, Emily emotionally isolates herself, hoping that pushing forward will heal all the pain. But starting over in Rock Springs, Wyoming, proves to be more difficult than she could have ever anticipated. 

Nai Nai warned against moving during “Ghost Week”, a time when the barrier between the spirit world and our world comes down. In Chinese culture, the mourning families must pray for their departed loved ones, guiding their souls to peace in the afterlife. Mourning is communal, and as families share their grief, they’re supposed to find healing together. But Nai Nai also warns Gracie about “Hungry Ghosts”, those who die scared and alone with no family members to guide them home.

When Gracie steals an old doll from a garage sale, it puts her in contact with a spirit she hopes is her father. But writer and director Vera Miao has other plans, using Gracie and her family to tell a multi-generational story of racism, grief and trauma. When Gracie disappears into the woods, past and present collide as she comes face to face with the spirits of dead miners. And what began as a small tale expands to become a confrontation with generational sadness and spiritual unrest.

In 1885, on the same land where Emily chose to restart her life with her family, a tragedy occurred. A village of Chinese migrant men was massacred and their homes destroyed. At least 28 Chinese miners were killed that day, with other sources indicating a death toll of 40 or 50 people. Only 15 survived with injuries at the hands of angry white settlers who resented that the local mining company had employed them in the first place. These settlers were never prosecuted for what is now known as the worst mass shooting in Wyoming history. To many viewers, this film will be an introduction to this historic tragedy. 

Miao takes us back to that day, showing us a tight-knit group of miners with Ah Tseng (Benedict Wong) and He Yew (Jimmy O. Yang) at the center. Before the attacks begin, they discuss their homeland and new identity as Americans. Though Ah Tseng has been in the country longer — having worked on the railroads — he seems to doubt the idea that the United States could really be called home. The murderous white settlers only solidify his doubt before his untimely death. The fallen men are piled into a mass grave in the woods right outside Emily’s new house.

Cinematographer Heyjin Jun cuts through the sadness with breathtaking images of forest and landscape, showcasing the beautiful land spoiled by blood and hate. Tran gives a compelling performance as a young widow adjusting to single parenthood and suddenly being the head of her household. Since her breakout performance in Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Tran has struggled to find meaningful roles that allow her to show her range. But she excels here as a woman haunted by her husband’s death and afraid to embrace the traditions that give her daughter comfort. She has great chemistry with newcomer Kim, a gifted young actress who manages to be expressive while rarely uttering a single word.

Rock Springs is a big swing from Miao that pays off in the end, blending drama, horror and ugly American history to create a truly heartbreaking and hopefully healing experience.