Entertainment
Review: 'In the Summers' shows an evolving bond between divorced dad and his two daughters
As “In the Summers” begins, Vicente is anxious. Sitting in his car, obsessively flicking his lighter, absentmindedly banging his hand on the steering wheel to calm his nerves, this working-class everyman looks out the window, waiting. The most important time of the year for Vicente is about to start — the season that defines him. His two young daughters finally emerge from the airport, and he excitedly goes to receive them. The summers are when he gets to be a dad. The summers are his chance to prove himself.
Told in four chapters over the span of a little less than 20 years, Colombian American writer-director Alessandra Lacorazza’s gorgeous feature debut may call to mind other singular indies such as “Moonlight” and “Aftersun” in its structure and themes, but this deceptively modest autobiographical drama is so precise and insightful that it comfortably occupies its own emotional landscape. It’s a film about that father, but it is also about his little girls, who won’t be so little for long.
The first chapter lays the groundwork for the film’s narrative framework. Vicente (played by rapper René Pérez Joglar, who records under the name Residente) lives in Las Cruces, N.M., in his late mother’s home. He moved there at some point after he and his wife divorced, and now he gets custody of Eva (Luciana Quinonez) and her older sister Violeta (Dreya Renae Castillo), who normally reside with their mom in California, only during the summers. Eva and Violeta may be grade-school age, still impressionable enough to look up to their gregarious, affectionate dad, but they can detect the faint cracks in his jovial surface. Vicente drinks a little too much, blows his top a little too easily. He wants his daughters to have a good time in Las Cruces, but what he really wants is for them to know that he’s a great father. The divorce is never mentioned, but Vicente is still fighting that battle.
The opening segment ends on a curious, ambiguous note — Violeta impulsively decides to cut her hair boyishly short, which sets off her conservative-minded father — that will inform much that follows. Over the ensuing three chapters, in much the same manner as “Moonlight,” “In the Summers” keeps jumping forward in time. Eva and Violeta will return to Las Cruces — both sisters don’t always make the trip, however — as we witness the shift in this father-daughter relationship during these pivotal summers. (Older actors play the daughters in subsequent chapters.) Lacorazza is a filmmaker who values showing over telling, resisting big speeches that lay out the characters’ mind-sets. Instead, a few images that repeat across chapters explain everything. Just watch as Vicente’s once-pristine backyard pool gradually degrades from neglect.
Winner of the Grand Jury Prize and the Directing Award at this year’s Sundance, “In the Summers” springs from Lacorazza’s memories of her late father, and the film’s most shocking moment, a car ride that serves as the second part’s disquieting finale, happened almost exactly the same way in real life. A filmmaker drawing from personal experience can sometimes risk suffering from a lack of perspective — she knows these incidents so intimately, but the audience is left on the outside — but once this richly observed, patiently crafted drama’s structure becomes apparent, each new chapter possesses a gripping suspense.
How have the three characters changed since we last saw them? And how might this new summer heal (or worsen) the invisible wounds inflicted in the previous chapter? Lacorazza’s movie is one of gradations, the daughters in the later chapters subtly carrying the cumulative disappointment and stubborn love these woman still harbor for their flawed father. Vicente and his girls have trouble speaking directly to the fault lines that have built up over the years between them. Lacorazza holds that tension, her characters’ sad smiles speaking volumes.
The rotating actors who portray Eva and Violeta are all superb — especially Sasha Calle and Lío Mehiel in the final chapter, which drives home Lacorazza’s meditation on resignation and acceptance. But Pérez Joglar’s Vicente, similarly to Paul Mescal’s troubled Calum in “Aftersun,” is both the film’s centerpiece and its greatest mystery. A maddening combination of good intentions and self-destructive tendencies — accommodating sensitivity and unforgivable pettiness — Vicente has a sharp mind for math, physics and astronomy that he loves sharing with his daughters. But as played by Pérez Joglar, making his feature acting debut, this prideful father also is consumed with the belief that life never gave him a fair shake, and he takes that resentment out on everyone around him. It’s a performance full of repressed bitterness, and the pain comes through most clearly once Vicente recognizes that his kids will grow out of their unquestioning adoration for their old man. As much as he tries to convince them he’s a terrific dad, he can’t disguise his failings — including his inability to hold onto a job or a partner — but it’s his insistence on propping up that illusion that becomes the movie’s tragedy. Much like his girls, we never truly see all of Vicente because he’s so determined to hide himself.
But families have a way of understanding one another in ways the rest of us can never fully grasp. Intriguingly, Lacorazza opts not to include subtitles for the film’s Spanish dialogue. Vicente occasionally uses Spanish with his daughters, who know what he’s saying but prefer to speak in English. “I made this choice to allow audiences to engage with emotions that transcend language,” Lacorazza has explained, and for those who don’t speak Spanish (like this reviewer), the choice achieves the desired effect.
But it also adds another grace note to this delicate, sophisticated portrait of class, sexuality and parenthood. There may be times during “In the Summers” when you will not comprehend every single thing that’s said. But the characters do, sharing a private language of family dysfunction and unexpressed anguish. The rest of us can watch — we may even understand the gist of their conversations — but their world is theirs alone. It is a testament to this deeply moving film that Lacorazza has laid bare her own complicated feelings about her father while acknowledging that, as shown in a silently shattering final scene, sometimes words fail.
‘In the Summers’
Not rated
Running time: 1 hour, 35 minutes
Playing: Opens Friday, Sept. 20, at the Laemmle Royal, West Los Angeles
Movie Reviews
Bandar Movie Review: Bobby Deol roars in Anurag Kashyap’s unsettling legal thriller that refuses to spoon-feed
Name: Bandar
Director: Anurag Kashyap
Cast: Bobby Deol, Sanya Malhotra, Sapna Pabbi, Saba Azad, Jitendra Joshi, Raj B Shetty
Writer: Sudip Sharma, Abhishek Banerjee
Rating: 3.5/5
Plot:
Bandar follows Sameer Mehra’s character, essayed by Bobby Deol, a fading star who is desperately clinging to his past glory. Just as he attempts to rebuild his life and finds solace in a new relationship, his world comes crashing down. A former girlfriend files a heinous allegation against him, dragging him into a vicious, high-profile legal battle. Written by Sudip Sharma and Abhishek Banerjee, the film moves away from standard Bollywood courtroom setups. Instead, it dives straight into the murky waters of social media trials, public perception, and a sluggish judicial system where the truth gets buried under layers of gray.
What works:
Known for his chaotic energy, Anurag Kashyap takes a remarkably mature and controlled approach here. He avoids sensationalizing a highly sensitive topic, choosing instead to focus on the psychological claustrophobia of the protagonist. The prison sequences are exceptionally well-shot. They create a suffocating, raw atmosphere that makes you feel the weight of the character’s confinement. The script successfully avoids preachy, black-and-white monologues. It bravely forces the audience to confront their own biases regarding modern-day public trials and the digital judge-and-jury culture.
What doesn’t:
Clocking in at nearly two hours and twenty minutes, Bandar feels heavily weighed down in the second half. The narrative stretches thin, and a few subplots demand too much patience, making you wish for a tighter edit. The film stubbornly refuses to take a definitive moral stance or offer a neat resolution. While film enthusiasts might appreciate the complexity, mainstream viewers looking for a clear-cut ending or emotional payoff might walk away feeling detached and frustrated.
Performances:
- Bobby Deol is the beating heart of this film. Stripping away the massive macho swagger and menacing villainy of his recent hits, he delivers a deeply vulnerable, understated performance. He plays Samar with a mix of arrogance, confusion, and raw helplessness, proving his immense range.
- Sanya Malhotra anchors her screen time with her trademark reliability, turning in a grounded and impactful performance.
- Saba Azad and Sapna Pabbi excel in their respective roles, bringing genuine nuance to characters that could have easily been sidelined.
- Jitendra Joshi is an absolute scene-stealer, commanding your attention every single time he steps into the frame.
- Indrajith Sukumaran and Raj B Shetty are absolute show stealers with their raw acting.
Final Verdict:
Bandar is an unsettling, morally complex thriller that refuses to spoon-feed its audience. It isn’t a comfortable watch, nor does it try to be. While the sluggish pacing in the second half prevents it from being an absolute masterpiece, it is worth a watch for Bobby Deol’s spectacular acting reinvention and Anurag Kashyap’s gritty, thought-provoking storytelling.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of Pinkvilla. No statement in this article is intended to defame, harm, or malign any individual or entity.
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Kathy Hilton will no longer be the grand marshal of West Hollywood’s pride parade.
The city and WeHo Pride on Wednesday released a joint statement, announcing that “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” star would no longer serve as the Grand Marshal Icon for the 2026 WeHo Pride Parade. The event is scheduled for Sunday.
“After thoughtful discussions, the City of West Hollywood, the WeHo Pride production team, and Kathy Hilton have determined that the 2026 WeHo Pride Parade will not designate a Grand Marshal Icon honoree,” read the statement.
The decision comes less than a week after Hilton was announced. That May 28 announcement was met with swift backlash from the LGBTQ+ community and allies, who called out Hilton’s ties to President Trump and alleged MAGA-leaning politics. Critics also cited accusations that the socialite had used a homophobic slur while on a trip with other cast members of “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills,” an action she has previously denied.
In their joint statement, West Hollywood and the WeHo Pride team expressed their appreciation for “the respectful and sincere dialogue” around both the event and the “role and significance” of Pride honorees.
“The City of West Hollywood has always believed that Pride belongs to the community,” the joint statement said. “Since its earliest days, Pride has served as both a celebration and a platform for activism, visibility, resilience, and the ongoing pursuit of equality, dignity, and justice for LGBTQ+ people. … These conversations reflect the passion people have for WeHo Pride and underscore the importance of ensuring that WeHo Pride continues to honor the history, values, and diverse voices of the LGBTQ+ community.”
In a statement, Hilton expressed gratitude for being considered for grand marshal and reaffirmed her commitment to the LGBTQ+ community and causes.
“My reason for wanting to be involved in this year’s WeHo Pride weekend was simple: to celebrate, support, and share in the joy of a community that means a great deal to so many people,” Hilton said. “Pride is, and always will be, about celebrating and uplifting LGBTQ+ voices, experiences, and achievements. … My support for the community and WeHo Pride is unwavering.”
She also mentioned several queer advocacy organizations and events she has supported over the years, including GLAAD, the Elton John AIDS Foundation, the Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation, Dr. Mathilde Krim, God’s Love We Deliver and Project Angel Food.
The latest Pride-related dust-up follows the abrupt cancellation of the Long Beach Pride Festival in May. The city’s Pride Parade took place as planned.
Both snafus have occurred as conservative politicians and advocates continue to attack LGBTQ+ rights and visibility nationwide. Some Republican governors have even pushed for conservative alternatives to Pride month festivities. A recent Gallup poll has found that after years of steady gains, support for marriage equality and same-sex relationships has slipped, particularly among Republicans.
Movie Reviews
Movie Review: Travolta’s “Propeller: One-Way Night Coach” is One for the Ages — All Ages
Back in the good ol’days — the ’90s — John Travolta would love to get off the topic of “Michael,” “Pulp Fiction” or “Get Shorty” in interviews with film journalists like me and regale us with how utterly besotted he had been with his first flying experience, how that drove his passion for piloting and buying planes and airfield-adjacent luxury houses.
He didn’t even seem to mind having to move house when this or that development balked at him flying his Boeing 707 out of there on the way to locations.
Travolta would tell any journalist who asked that he was writing a kid-friendly book, “Propeller: One Way Night Coach,” based on his first flights as a child in old propeller driven airliners — cheap red-eye overnight treks with too many connections for your average jet age traveller to tolerate.
I remember picking up the book when it came out later in the ’90s — at an airport gift shop — and thinking “Well, that’s as cute as I figured.”
And now, decades later and trapped in the B-movie hell of his post “Gotti” career, Travolta’s turned that cute book into the most delightful, fanciful and colorful bon bon of a movie.
“One Way Night Coach” is a child’s fantasy of flight and flying the way it used to be — with pristine, uncrowded, futuristic airports, an early ’60s era of jets and prop planes with over-uniformed stewardesses in white gloves, the days “Back before every Joe Sweatsock could wedge himself behind a lunch tray and jet off to Raleigh-Durham,” as Sideshow Bob memorably sneered on “The Simpsons’.”
It’s a fictionalized account of Travolta’s childhood about an only child (at least two Travolta siblings have bit parts in this movie) of a never-made-it/never-will actress/single-mom (Kelly Eviston-Quinnett) who indulges her aviation-obsessed eight-year-old with a cheap cross-country overnight flight.
Little Jeff (Clark Shotwell) will revel in almost every Idlewild to Pittsburgh to Dayton to Chicago to Kansas City to Denver and Los Angeles minute. He strolls into the cockpit to meet pilots, charms the stewardesses and checks out the sleeping bunks on the TWA Lockheed Super Constellation, loving even the delays if not the Chicken Cordon Bleu he’s offered on legs of the journey that offer a meal.
And as he’s an observant child, he comments (Travolta narrates) on his 50ish mother’s vamping and posing, her choice of cigarettes (Newports) and drinks, the solo traveling men whose attention she pursues and earns.
“I was her best audience,” adult Jeff remembers of the mother who’d read him plays as bedtime stories and delusionally hopes that this trip to Los Angeles might be her “big break” even though she’s pushing 50.
“Hollywood called,” she’d explain about their overnight cheap flight arrangements to ticket agents and crew. “They told me to take the next flight!”
At every turn, Jeff meets or sees kindness — stewardesses who indulge his many questions and bump them up to first class on the mostly-empty planes, a captain who fixes his toy model of a Constellation, a mentally ill flyer who flips out but is calmed by a flight attendant who isn’t overworked and frazzled in jet-powered tin-can jammed with Joe and Jane Sweatsocks who think nothing of traveling in their pajamas.
Normally, I cringe at pictures this reliant on voice-over narration. I recoil from stars who populate their picture with Sandler etc. offspring. But “Propeller” is unfailingly sweet and never cloying.
Sure, it’s fictionalized. But if you’ve followed Travolta’s life and career, a lot of him is in this — his raptoruous engagement with flying, an indulged child who developed a taste for fine food and creature comforts, a mother who was his guiding star as an actor.
I get why there are less adoring reviews than mine floating around “Propeller.” It’s unfailingly sweet. Mom’s man-hunting is seriously dated. This TWA tale is decorated with Gershwin’s majestic “Rhapsody in Blue” — United Airlines’ signature tune. And Travolta’s been around long enough for recent generations to come up and not feel a connection to the “Saturday Night Fever/Get Shorty” star whose career has fallen off and life has been visited by too much tragedy.
But I’d hate to be seated next to anybody who doesn’t appreciate this adorable, pristine and nearly perfect aviation fantasy on any flight, much less an overnight one.
Rating: TV-PG
Cast: Clark Shotwell, Kelly Eviston-Quinnett, Ellen Travolta, Ella Beau Travolta, Olga Hoffmann and John Travolta.
Credits: Scripted and directed by John Travolta, based on his book. An Apple TV+ release.
Running time: 1:01
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