For a quarter of a century, the Tribeca Festival has served as a showcase for emerging voices, established filmmakers, and some of the most exciting discoveries in contemporary cinema. As with any festival, however, not every film can be a masterpiece. Across this year’s lineup, I experienced the full spectrum of what makes film festivals so exhilarating: unforgettable gems that reminded me why I love movies, ambitious swings that didn’t quite connect, and a handful of titles that left me scratching my head. That’s part of the beauty of the festival experience. For every breakout favorite, there’s a disappointment, and for every crowd-pleaser, there’s a film that simply wasn’t for me. Here’s my look at the good, the bad, and the ugly from the 2026 Tribeca Festival.
The Leader
There’s something about cults that fascinates people. Not the idea of joining one, but rather the question of what compels ordinary individuals to become part of something so extraordinary. That fascination has inspired countless films and limited series exploring the subject from a variety of perspectives. One of this year’s Tribeca Festival selections, The Leader, turns its attention to Heaven’s Gate, the infamous cult whose story ultimately ended in mass suicide.
What makes Michael Gallagher’s The Leader so compelling is its focus on the individuals at the center of that tragedy. Rather than sensationalizing the events themselves, Gallagher humanizes those involved, encouraging viewers to engage with the people who lost their lives rather than viewing them solely through the lens of their fate.
The Leader chronicles the rise of Marshall Applewhite and Bonnie Nettles’ Heaven’s Gate cult. A group that convinced its followers that salvation awaited beyond Earth itself. Promising transcendence and the opportunity to shed their human existence for a higher extraterrestrial form, their teachings ultimately culminated in one of the most shocking tragedies in modern history: the mass suicide of 39 members in 1997 as the Hale-Bopp comet passed overhead.
Gallagher’s screenplay is the film’s secret weapon, though I can see it being a stumbling block for some viewers. Rather than leaning into the spectacle of Heaven’s Gate, he focuses on the people behind it, resulting in a film that favors character and conversation over flashy visuals and rapid-fire pacing. While that measured approach may test the patience of some audiences, it completely worked for me. I was captivated throughout, a testament to Gallagher’s ability to keep viewers invested through strong characterization and thoughtful storytelling.
Elevating the screenplay is a stellar ensemble featuring Vera Farmiga, Tim Blake Nelson, Jim Parsons, and Simon Rex. While it’s no surprise that Nelson and Farmiga deliver terrific work as the leaders of Heaven’s Gate, I was particularly taken by Parsons and Rex. Parsons showcases a dramatic side that feels far removed from the roles audiences have come to expect from him, while Rex delivers a performance that’s understated yet quietly haunting. Both actors left a lasting impression, and their work remained on my mind long after the film ended.
In a landscape filled with true-crime dramatizations and sensationalized retellings, The Leader stands apart by refusing to reduce its subjects to a headline. Gallagher’s film is less interested in the tragedy itself than in understanding the people behind it, and that approach pays dividends. Anchored by a thoughtful screenplay, exceptional performances, and a remarkable sense of empathy, The Leader not only succeeds as a compelling drama but also stands as my favorite film of this year’s Tribeca Festival.
In Memoriam
To quote Moira Rose, when asked what my favorite season is, there’s only one answer: awards. With every awards show comes the inevitable in memoriam segment, a moment dedicated to honoring those we’ve lost. But what happens when an aging actor is nearing the end of his life and becomes fixated on whether he’ll make the cut for Hollywood’s most prestigious tribute? Rob Burnett’s latest film, In Memoriam, explores that very question.
In Memoriam follows Langston Stanfield as he grapples with a terminal cancer diagnosis and an increasingly consuming obsession with being included in the Academy Awards’ in memoriam montage. Why does it matter so much to him? Once a respected actor, Langston spent years chasing easy paychecks and watching his career gradually fade from relevance.
As Langston confronts his mortality, he forms an unexpected bond with his therapist, Samantha, while also attempting to reconnect with his estranged daughter, Maura. Together, they help him reevaluate what truly matters as he comes to terms with the legacy he hopes to leave behind.
Rob Burnett’s screenplay offers a sharp commentary on the entertainment industry without alienating viewers who may not live and breathe awards season. In doing so, he crafts a heartfelt and often humorous exploration of mortality, legacy, and what truly matters in life. While the film occasionally flirts with the kind of overextended runtime often associated with a Judd Apatow comedy, it ultimately earns its length through its emotional sincerity and compelling character work.
While the role doesn’t demand a great deal from her, Academy Award nominee Lilly Gladstone is nevertheless a delight, bringing warmth and sincerity to her scenes as she helps guide Langston through his journey. Talia Ryder also shines, sharing a believable and affecting father-daughter dynamic with Marc Maron. Yet, despite the strength of those performances, this is ultimately Maron’s show.
Delivering one of, if not the finest, performance of his career, Maron is equal parts hilarious, vulnerable, and heartbreaking. Despite Langston’s often abrasive and unlikeable personality, Maron infuses the character with a profound emotional depth that makes it impossible not to empathize with him. By the film’s conclusion, it’s his vulnerability that lingers most, transforming Langston into a character whose struggles resonate long after the credits roll.
What begins as a clever premise about an actor desperate to secure his place in Hollywood history evolves into a deeply affecting meditation on mortality and legacy. Rob Burnett balances humor and heartbreak with remarkable ease, while Marc Maron delivers the kind of performance that lingers long after the credits roll. By the film’s conclusion, In Memoriam reminds us that being remembered isn’t about awards, recognition, or having your name appear on a screen. It’s about the connections we make and the impact we leave on those around us.
Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass
It’s time to admit something: I’ve never seen Wet Hot American Summer. So when Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass was announced as part of this year’s Tribeca Festival lineup, I wasn’t approaching it as a David Wain devotee. Instead, I found myself drawn in by its delightfully absurd title and even more outrageous premise.
Thankfully, Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass proved to be much more than a one-joke concept. Wain takes the DNA of a sex comedy and flips it on its head, crafting a bizarre Wizard of Oz-inspired journey of self-discovery that frequently surprised me. By the time the credits rolled, my biggest takeaway was simple: somehow, this was better than Wicked: For Good.
Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass follows a small-town woman whose world is turned upside down when her fiancé decides to cash in on the couple’s long-standing celebrity pass agreement. Determined not to let him have all the fun, Gail embarks on a wildly unpredictable journey to Hollywood in pursuit of her own celebrity encounter,none other than Jon Hamm. Along the way, what begins as a mission of revenge evolves into an unexpected journey of self-discovery.
David Wain and Ken Marino’s screenplay keeps the film moving at a brisk and frenetic pace. Wain and Marino understand the assignment and never allow the film to take itself too seriously as its lean 93-minute runtime bounces from one outrageous celebrity cameo and absurd situation to the next. Treating Los Angeles as their own version of Oz, they send Gail down a chaotic rabbit hole of self-discovery where every new stop is stranger than the last, resulting in a comedy that’s as charming as it is delightfully unhinged.
While the film features an array of celebrity cameos that I wouldn’t dare spoil, it’s Zoey Deutch who ultimately emerges as its MVP. Deutch’s natural comedic timing and undeniable charm make her the perfect anchor for the film’s increasingly absurd antics. Despite often serving as the story’s “straight man,” she never fades into the background, consistently finding opportunities to land some of the film’s biggest laughs while keeping Gail grounded amidst the chaos.
Much like Gail herself, I wasn’t entirely sure where this journey was headed. What I found was a comedy that’s far smarter, sweeter, and stranger than its title suggests. Packed with memorable cameos, absurd detours, and a terrific lead performance from Zoey Deutch, Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass turns a ludicrous premise into an unexpectedly heartfelt adventure. It’s the kind of film that reminds you that self-discovery can happen in the unlikeliest of places, even on a quest to sleep with Jon Hamm.
Happy Hours
This article may be called Tribeca Festival: The Good, The Bad & The Ugly, but Happy Hours somehow manages to embody both the bad and the ugly. Banking heavily on the nostalgic appeal of reuniting Joshua Jackson and Katie Holmes, the film squanders that goodwill on a melodramatic romance that feels less like a festival selection and more like a discount-bin Lifetime original. At just 90 minutes, it should breeze by. Instead, every minute feels painfully elongated, turning a relatively short runtime into an endurance test.
Written and directed by Katie Holmes, Happy Hours follows Liz, a professional photographer navigating the aftermath of a separation from her husband. While on a freelance assignment, she reconnects with Andrew McCloud, a travel writer embarking on a book tour, who hopes to rekindle a romance the pair once shared.
Unfortunately, Holmes’ screenplay is where the film begins to unravel. In an effort to flesh out the relationship between Liz and Andrew, the narrative repeatedly relies on flashbacks to their younger years. Rather than deepening their connection, these moments feel forced and often distract from the story unfolding in the present. The result is a film filled with unintentional laughs that undermine its dramatic ambitions. Clearly aiming for the intimate, conversation-driven romance of Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy, Happy Hours instead struggles to generate meaningful chemistry, emotional investment, or much entertainment value at all.
In the end, Happy Hours mistakes nostalgia for substance, relying heavily on the reunion of Katie Holmes and Joshua Jackson without giving either actor material worthy of their talents. Between its forced flashbacks, uneven writing, and sluggish pacing, the film never comes close to earning the emotional payoff it’s chasing. For fans eager to see Holmes and Jackson together again, I’d recommend skipping Happy Hours altogether and revisiting Dawson’s Creek. Not only is it the better story, but it’s also the far more entertaining use of your time.
