Movie Reviews
‘Bedford Park’ Review: Two Lonely Souls Navigate Familial Burdens and Korean American Identity in Stephanie Ahn’s Delicately Poignant Debut
There is nothing obviously wrong with Audrey (Moon Choi). The 36-year-old has a physical therapist job she cares about, with coworkers she mostly likes. Her Brooklyn apartment looks small and a bit shabby, but comfortable. She’s single, but seems to enjoy an active, lightly kinky sex life on the apps.
It’s just that she seems adrift, somehow — as if she’s not only lost her way but forgotten where she was trying to go in the first place, if indeed she ever knew.
Bedford Park
The Bottom Line Tender but unsentimental.
Venue: Sundance Film Festival (U.S. Dramatic Competition)
Cast: Gary Foster, Chris S. Lee, Nina Yang Bongiovi, Theresa Kang, Son Sukku
Director-screenwriter: Stephanie Ahn
1 hour 59 minutes
Bedford Park, Stephanie Ahn’s poignant directorial debut, follows Audrey on her path toward something like self-actualization, sparked by a chance encounter with a similarly lonely soul. Though its unflashy style and delicate emotionality are unlikely to sweep viewers off their feet, its eye for fine detail and bittersweet tone make it an absorbing experience worth seeking out.
This transformative relationship enters Audrey’s life through the unlikeliest of avenues. Eli (Son Sukku), a rough-around-the-edges ex-wrestler, is the other party in a car accident that leaves Audrey’s mom (Won Mi-kyung) with an injured wrist. The incident forces Audrey back into her childhood home in suburban New Jersey to help take care of her, and into Eli’s orbit to help square away the insurance information and repair bills.
Audrey and Eli’s first meeting is a contentious one, with accusations and rude words and eventually pieces of fruit getting thrown around in all directions. (Between this and Netflix’s Beef, there’s apparently no better outlet for Korean American Millennial angst than car-based tantrums.) But a second encounter takes a turn when Audrey finds herself in a vulnerable position, and Eli, a decent guy underneath his prickly exterior, steps up to help. The mutual thawing turns into a mutually beneficial carpool arrangement, which warms into friendship and eventually more.
The script, also by Ahn, leans slightly too much on contrivances to nudge the relationship along. And while Eli’s solitude is explained by his circumstances (he’s laying low from a shady situation engineered by a toxic relative), it’s harder to tell whether we’re meant to understand Audrey as having no other friends whatsoever, or if it’s just more convenient for the screenplay that whatever pals she does have forget to text her the entire time she’s in New Jersey.
But it helps make up for these minor missteps that Ahn has such a firm grasp on who her characters are and where they’re coming from. Combined with her eye for small but telling details — an introductory scene of Eli eating peanut butter directly out of the jar with his fingers speaks volumes about where this man is in his own life, before he even speaks a word — it ensures that even when certain plot beats feel a bit engineered or random, the emotions rippling out from them are wholly believable.
As the central not-quite-couple, Son and Choi are intriguingly unpredictable together at first, like a pair of stray cats sizing each other up, ready to pounce or run as needed. When they finally begin to let their guards down, one awkward car-ride convo or hesitant food court meal at a time, the connection is more profound and more tender for being so hard-won.
What brings Audrey and Eli together, other than a slow-burn attraction, is a sense of stuckness — of being trapped between the heavy expectations of their families and the dissatisfaction they harbor about lives that haven’t quite turned out as they’d hoped (even if they themselves probably couldn’t articulate what exactly it was they did want).
Audrey, the single and childless and PhD-less product of a stable but unhappy home, has fallen short of the life planned out for her by her parents. In the present, her mother lies to her church friends about Audrey’s nonexistent medical career, pressures her to date a nice and rich but hopelessly boring divorcé and guilt-trips Audrey into extending her stay. Eli, whose childhood was fractured by tragedy, dodges a mother who seems more interested in asking him for money than offering him love, and hides out from an ex and young daughter whose life he apparently fears ruining.
No wonder they feel that in each other, they’ve finally found the one person around whom, as Audrey puts it, they can finally breathe — someone who comes to them with no preconceptions or expectations, who see them for the person they actually are and not the person they want them to be.
Woven through this entire messy tangle of relationships is the issue of their shared Korean American identity, in all its variously beautiful and burdensome complexities. It is a gift that Bedford Park grants its leads the space to navigate that complex terrain on their own terms, rather than falling back on stereotypes that position it solely in opposition to a “mainstream” (white) culture.
It empathizes with Audrey, who is unwilling to be the dutiful girl her mother wants her to be, but isn’t ready to entirely reject the role, either. It’s gentle about Eli, born in Korea but raised by a white mother, feeling self-conscious because he prefers forks to chopsticks and barely understands the language of his birth parents.
And it understands that the umbrella of that identity might cover even those who’d rather reject it — like Audrey’s mother, who moved to the U.S. in search of a better life for her children but now bemoans the fact that they’re too American; or her father (Kim Eung-soo), whose pride has never recovered from the loss of status he suffered when he traded his cushy office job in Korea for blue-collar grocery store work in the States.
Almost inevitably, Bedford Park makes its way to the Korean concept of han, defined here by Audrey as “an ancient heartache when a person carries their family’s trauma.” Is it “carried voluntarily, like a sense of duty,” she and Eli wonder over beers and bar food, or do they have no choice in the matter?
The film doesn’t have any firm answers to counter these questions, let alone any easy reassurances or even a tidy happy ending. But in its nuance, its curiosity and its deep affection for its characters, it offers anyone familiar with burdens like Eli and Audrey’s the same thing they give to each other — the chance to sit down and take a breath, with someone who really gets it.
Movie Reviews
Movie reviews reveal A Poet and All That’s Left of You dominate March with perfect 100% scores – Art Threat
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Two masterpieces just shattered critical consensus on Rotten Tomatoes. Both A Poet and All That’s Left of You have garnered rare perfect 100% scores from critics, dominating March 2026’s excellence rankings. These dual releases represent a historic moment for international cinema.
🔥 Quick Facts
- A Poet: 100% Rotten Tomatoes score from critics celebrating Simón Mesa Soto‘s Colombian drama
- All That’s Left of You: 100% Certified Fresh multi-generational Palestinian epic by Cherien Dabis
- Release Timeline: Both films expanding dramatically in theaters March 2026 after festival triumphs
- Critical Moment: Rare simultaneous perfect scores elevate international storytelling into mainstream spotlight
A Poet Achieves Unanimous Critical Acclaim
Simón Mesa Soto‘s A Poet stands as one of 2026’s finest achievements. Starring Ubeimar Rios as Oscar Restrepo, a once-promising writer turned tragic failure, the film examines fatherhood’s weight with devastating wit and elegance. The Colombian-Swedish-German co-production premiered at Cannes Film Festival’s Un Certain Regard section last year and has conquered every distribution market since.
The ensemble cast includes Rebeca Andrade, Guillermo Cardona, and Humberto Restrepo, delivering layered performances that anchor the film’s four-chapter structure. Critics hailed the film as a triumph of tone, mixing tragicomic observation with genuine emotional devastation. The New York Times called it “The Romance of Misery”, recognizing its ability to find beauty in human failure. The film’s philosophical depth and formal precision explain its unprecedented critical consensus.
| Title | A Poet (Un Poeta) |
| Director | Simón Mesa Soto |
| Lead Actor | Ubeimar Rios as Oscar Restrepo |
| Rotten Tomatoes | 100% Certified Fresh |
| Theatrical Status | Expanding in March 2026 |
All That’s Left of You Shatters Records as Palestinian Saga
Cherien Dabis wrote, directed, and starred in All That’s Left of You, a sweeping three-generational epic set in the Occupied West Bank spanning decades of family trauma and resilience. Featuring Saleh Bakri, Mohammad Bakri, Adam Bakri, and Maria Zreik, the film follows a teenage boy swept into a pivotal protest with consequences that ripple through his family’s future.
Produced by Watermelon Pictures, the film premiered at Sundance Film Festival 2025, where it immediately earned Certified Fresh status and near-universal praise. Filming relocated to Cyprus, Greece, and Jordan after production complications, yet the result feels seamlessly authentic. Critics point to Dabis’s multi-media mastery (she directs, performs, and produces) as essential to the film’s emotional authority. The film’s scope rivals the greatest epics while maintaining intimate character work that defines recent international cinema.
All That’s Left of You arrived in selected theaters on January 9, 2026 and steadily expanded throughout early March. The film’s 100% Rotten Tomatoes score reflects not just critical respect but genuine reverence for Dabis’s artistic vision. This achievement represents Palestinian cinema reaching its greatest artistic and commercial moment.
Why These Two Films Dominate March 2026’s Conversation
Rarity defines these simultaneous perfect scores. A Poet and All That’s Left of You occupy the rare 100% Tomatometer tier reserved for films of historic excellence. The 2026 FilmFare recognized both as front-runners for major awards, acknowledging how they’ve elevated the expectations for drama itself. Industry observers note that achieving perfect critical consensus in today’s fractious landscape represents not consensus but unanimous recognition of artistic achievement.
Both films reflect cinema’s global moment. Simón Mesa Soto‘s Colombian vision and Cherien Dabis‘ Palestinian perspective prove that international storytelling now commands the cultural conversation. Rotten Tomatoes‘ Official Rankings place both films in its exclusive Certified Fresh top tier. March 2026 becomes the month cinema decided: universal critical acclaim belongs to filmmakers willing to transcend borders.
“All That’s Left of You is a sweeping multigenerational epic that captures the thematic breadth of great cinema while exploring what it means to endure generational trauma.”
— Rotten Tomatoes Critics Consensus, Officials
The Future of International Cinema Starts Now
Both films expand to more theaters through March 2026 and beyond. A Poet hits streaming services and digital platforms simultaneously, making it accessible to audiences beyond Select Release cities. All That’s Left of You continues rolling out across regional markets, having already secured international distribution. Industry observers expect both to capture major festival awards at upcoming spring cinema celebrations.
These perfect scores matter beyond accolades. They signal to studios, streamers, and investors that audiences hunger for international voices and authentic storytelling. March 2026 becomes a watershed moment where Colombian drama and Palestinian cinema proved they belong in the conversation with any major market release. The critical paths of A Poet and All That’s Left of You forecast how cinema itself will evolve toward greater global representation.
Where Can Film Lovers Watch These Perfect-Score Masterpieces?
Both films remain available in theatrical releases across the United States and expanding internationally. A Poet plays select theaters with plans to widen release through spring 2026, while All That’s Left of You continues broader theatrical circulation. Check major ticketing platforms for showtimes and streaming availability. International audiences should consult local cinema schedules for release dates and language availability. These 100% Rotten Tomatoes achievements deserve the big screen experience both directors envisioned.
Sources
- Rotten Tomatoes – Official Tomatometer scores and Critics Consensus for both films
- The New York Times – Critical analysis and reviews of A Poet’s artistic achievement
- Watermelon Pictures – Official distribution and production information for All That’s Left of You
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Movie Reviews
‘They Will Kill You’ Review: Zazie Beetz Kicks Ass in a Giddy, Gory Eat-the-Rich Actioner
At the end of it all, a flabbergasted detective asks a survivor what’s just occurred. The victim, battered and exhausted and covered in blood, grunts out just two words: “Rich people.”
That’s about the extent of the social commentary on offer from They Will Kill You, a new action-horror-comedy set in a Manhattan luxury building whose Satan-worshipping tenants engage in ritualistic killings of their mostly poor and marginalized staff. But it’s all the excuse writer-director Kirill Sokolov (Why Don’t You Just Die!) and his co-writer Alex Litvak need to unleash great big arterial sprays with gonzo style, to enjoyably giddy, if ultimately insubstantial, effect.
They Will Kill You
The Bottom Line Not a lot of brains, but plenty of splattered guts.
Release date: Friday, March 27
Cast: Zazie Beetz, Myha’la, Paterson Joseph, Tom Felton, Heather Graham, Patricia Arquette
Director: Kirill Sokolov
Screenwriters: Kirill Sokolov, Alex Litvak
Rated R,
1 hour 34 minutes
Arriving just one week after Ready or Not 2: Here I Come hit theaters — and having first debuted at SXSW just a few days after Ready or Not 2: Here I Come did — They Will Kill You will inevitably draw comparisons. It’s impossible to argue they aren’t fair.
Both films are about ordinary women brought into a tightly guarded enclave of the one percent, where they’re to be hunted for sacrifice by entitled sociopaths who’ve struck a literal deal with the Devil. Both films saddle their heroines with estranged younger sisters who harbor lingering resentment about having been abandoned by their big sisters in their youth, but now must make up with them in order to survive. Both films devolve into frenetic yet stylish melees deploying all manner of unusual weaponry before, finally, confronting the supernatural head-on.
But any assumption that they’re the same movie will be wiped out the moment the satin-cloaked Satanists of They Will Kill You corner Asia (Zazie Beetz), the newest maid at the exclusive Virgil apartments, in a closet — only for her to come out literally swinging with a sword, slicing one of their heads clean off to uncork the first of what will be many, many geysers of blood to come.
Asia, we learn through one of several flashbacks, is no oblivious victim but an “avenger,” as her boss (Patricia Arquette‘s Lily) puts it, with an irritated sigh suggesting she isn’t the first. Asia has come here under false pretenses with the intention of rescuing her sister, Maria (Myha’la), another recently hired maid. She’s thus armed to the teeth with blades and guns and ammo, though perhaps nothing is deadlier than her fighting spirit, honed over years of prison brawls. The residents of the Virgil, for their part, are more than ready to defend what’s theirs, with one major supernatural asset up their capacious sleeves that gives them the upper hand.
The simplicity of the plot — the only way out is a fire escape at the top of the building, forcing Asia to fight her way up its nine floors, á la The Raid: Redemption or Dredd — gives Sokolov a relatively blank canvas across which to splatter a grand and gory pastiche of seemingly everything he has ever found cool, from video games to animé to John Wick to Sergio Leone and Quentin Tarantino. If he’s yet to coalesce all those influences into his own distinctive style, he wields them with gleeful enthusiasm. He dials the violence up to Looney Tunes silliness while Beetz infuses it all with an effortless cool, giving Asia an athleticism that makes her a pleasure to watch and a defiance that makes her a joy to root for.
Asia never swings an axe when she can swing a flaming axe so that she can set her enemies on fire even as she hacks off their limbs. Furniture getting hurled through the air is captured in slow-motion, all the better to admire when it shatters on someone. Gunshots are punctuated by flurries of mattress stuffing falling through the air like snow. And I haven’t even revealed the big twist that accounts for the film’s most eye-poppingly gruesome sights; those, I’ll leave you to goggle at in the theater for yourself.
But even with that endless appetite for mayhem — and even with a trim 94-minute run time — there’s a point at which They Will Kill You starts to leave intriguing ideas on the table in favor of repeating itself. Take the layout of the building. We’re told each floor is themed after a different deadly sin, but aside from a brief glimpse of a writhing orgy on the “fuck floor” (Lust, obviously) and a set piece in an empty kitchen (Gluttony, presumably), we don’t get to see any of the others. Instead, we spend much of that time crawling around dark underground tunnels and climbing up nondescript shafts. It seems a missed opportunity to set the Virgil apart from any of a million hallways we’ve seen action stars punch their way through before.
Then there are the characters. They Will Kill You barely bothers fleshing out its robed and masked masses of villains; the ones played by Heather Graham and Tom Felton are distinguishable only because they’re played by Heather Graham and Tom Felton. But it has not much more interest in key characters like Maria, whose motives shift with the needs of the plot. Or Lily and her husband Roy (Paterson Joseph), about whom I could tell you almost nothing beyond that Arquette seems to have decided halfway through the shoot to adopt a “local newscaster on St. Paddy’s day”-level Irish accent, and Joseph to pick up a gently Southern one.
Even its haves-versus-have-nots posturing turns out to be less about exploring social injustice than allowing us to root for ultra-violence guilt-free, secure in the knowledge that these rich actually are not like the rest of us because they are much, much, much worse.
But perhaps it’s for the best. For all the weapons in Asia’s arsenal, thoughtfulness or emotionality or complexity are nowhere among them. They Will Kill You is simply not equipped to serve up a nuanced exploration of class division, or a poignant drama of sisterly devotion, or what have you. What it is armed for is violence — lots and lots and lots of violence, so brutally nasty it comes all the way back around to childishly funny. That, it is happy to dish out in spades, with enough gusto to sate even the most bloodthirsty filmgoer.
Movie Reviews
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