The mood — reflective and melancholic — is set with the sparse piano on the soundtrack that introduces shirtless Sam, portrayed by Elliot Page, scanning the world outside his window in a concrete corner of Toronto.
Page bares his own top-surgery scars in the scene, lending a personal, physical dimension to Sam’s story, which Page co-conceived with writer-director Dominic Savage. The filmmaker doesn’t deviate much from the brooding mood, but rather just tightens and loosens the tension that accompanies all the dread.
Sam is stressed in anticipation of returning to his hometown, and family, for the first time in four years. He hasn’t seen anyone from home since he transitioned. Choosing his dad’s big birthday weekend get-together as the venue for his homecoming-out might backfire, warns Sam’s friend and housemate Emily (Sook-Yin Lee).
But, dread be damned, away he goes by train from Toronto to leafy, small-town Culver. His first awkward encounter with someone from home — Katherine (Hillary Baack), a friend from high school, now a married mom whom he spots on the train — doesn’t bode well. Still, the brief reunion does supply enough detail to signal that Kat and Sam were previously closer than just friends, and it leaves both with questions lingering heavily on their minds.
Everyone in Sam’s family has something weighing heavily on their mind, it seems, though not everyone spills, or snaps, at the same time. Savage brightens the mood somewhat for Sam’s surprising welcome home scene, where he gently reconnects with mom Miriam (Wendy Crewson), dad Jim (Peter Outerbridge), and his siblings and their partners.
The scene bears hints of the domestic warmth Sam craves, and that the film could use more of to add dimension to its shades of gray. Outside of stray bits of snark from Sam, the film forgoes humor for angst almost completely.
So, the awkwardness persists, and Page, being the expressively interior actor he is, finds within that many affecting colors to play, as tension escalates with each heart-to-heart between Sam and his respective family members. Each one asks all the same catch-up questions — about his job, his happiness, his love life — posed with varying degrees of concern or pity.
The poignant notes of long-delayed homecomings, and polite welcomes that hide old resentments, ring true. So do the uncomfortable conversations with Dad, who’s eager to talk about Sam’s past depression, older sis Kate (Janet Porter), who harbors all sorts of other doubts, and Mom, who’s supportive with intention, yet still hung up on losing her “little girl.”
The film carefully, and too patly, hits every trending concern family might have about their adult trans loved one living alone in the big city. Some in the family seem to wonder if happiness could even be possible for a person like Sam. And one family member steps far over the line, going from awkward and passive aggressive to openly hostile.
The ensuing climax feels like the movie reaching its inevitable destination, but, despite a sense of contrivance, the acting holds up. Crewson and Outerbridge are particularly good as loving parents processing a host of difficult emotions at once, and Page thoroughly embodies the fulfillment Sam has found in his life, as well as the compassion he’s seeking.
Unfortunately, neither Page nor Baack lend much tension or suspense to the will-they-or-won’t-they between Sam and Katherine. Baack certainly conveys that Katherine sees and appreciates Sam for who he is now and has always been. For someone like Sam, who says he just wants to feel seen, that’s a victory worth the train ride home.
Based on its stunning trailer -- propelled by early-Hollywood actor Taylor Holmes' ripping 1915 recording of the Rudyard Kipling poem "Boots" -- one might expect 28 Years Later to focus on a father and son's war for survival against zombie-like hordes.
Directed by Danny Boyle and written by Alex Garland, creators of the 2002 series originator 28 Days Later, the film does venture with 12-year-old Spike (Alfie Williams) and his rugged dad, Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), into territory crawling with rage virus-infected human predators.
Yet, that's just a piece of a richer narrative anchored by the drama of domestic dysfunction within Spike's family, which also includes his homebound, mentally ill mom, Isla (Jodie Comer).
Life is a cabaret at the titular bolero bar in GALA Hispanic Theatre's Botiquín de Boleros de Columbia Heights. Of course, for this lively, immersive staging, directed and choreographed by Valeria Cossu, we, the audience, are the patrons at the Columbia Heights Bolero Bar.
Seated at cabaret tables onstage, at stage level, or in regular seats throughout the house, audience members may find themselves in the midst of the action for Rubén Léon's heartfelt backstage musical revue, adapted by GALA artistic director Gustavo Ott.
Formerly a mainstay of D.C.'s diverse Columbia Heights neighborhood, the fictional boîte was "one of the hottest cabarets" in town, we're told. But due to the pandemic, it has sat dormant for years, until now -- now being November 2024, just ahead of a presidential election that will prove particularly pivotal for immigrants like some of the performers who call the club home.
After removing all references to transgender people from the Stonewall National Monument website earlier this year, the National Park Service has now scrubbed mentions of bisexual people as well.
As first reported by transgender journalist Erin Reed on her Erin in the Morning Substack, the change occurred on July 10, when the homepage was updated to read, "Before the 1960s, almost everything about living authentically as a gay or lesbian person was illegal."
Subsequent pages, including the site's "History and Culture" section, were also altered to remove broader LGBTQ references. One now reads: "Stonewall was a milestone for gay and lesbian civil rights," whereas it previously noted that living "openly as a member of the Stonewall comunity was a violation of law."
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