Black filmmakers, actors and films were an integral part of the 2026 Sundance Film Festival. As the event prepares to leave Park City, Utah, after more than 40 years, Black artists were present to say farewell. Beginning in 2027, the festival will relocate to Boulder, Colorado.
“If I Go Will They Miss Me” (**)
In the past, portrayals of Black families in low-income communities have often relied on stereotypes, particularly when it comes to men. In recent years, more astute filmmakers have pushed back, creating nuanced characters and avoiding clichés.
A.V. Rockwell’s “One Thousand and One” (2023), for example, featured Teyana Taylor as a mother navigating urban hardship while raising her young son. Though the men in her life had flaws, none were demonized or flattened.
“If I Go Will They Miss Me” is a throwback, and not in a good way.
Writer-director Walter Thompson-Hernandez (“Kites”) sets his family drama in working-class Watts, Los Angeles. Lozita (Danielle Brooks) is devoted to her young son Anthony, known as Lil Ant (Bodhi Dell), a model middle schooler whose creative imagination drifts into fantasy. He dreams of Black boys floating in the air, conjures mystical imagery, and clings to mythology, Pegasus among his heroes.
Lozita is less fortunate in her marriage. Her husband Big Ant (J. Alphonse Nicholson, “They Cloned Tyrone”) is defined by prison stints, drug issues, infidelity, and open hostility toward his son. He is a constant thorn.
The film is visually striking and surreal, more like a fable crafted by a visual artist than a story guided by a wise griot. Yet the narrative never rises to the heights of Lil Ant’s imagination. Instead, it sinks. Big Ant is an abusive trope, a one-dimensional inner-city Black villain. In one pivotal scene, he sadistically rips apart his son’s treasured artwork, then strikes him when confronted. It’s painful and regressive.
Viewers hoping Lozita will interrupt the cycle of abuse may be disappointed. When she finally acts to protect her family, it comes too late. By then, patient audiences may have already checked out.
It’s a major letdown. Not just the script, but the filmmaker’s dated portrayal of Black fathers. The winsome cinematography (Michael Fernandez), music (Malcolm Parson), and production design (Maria Perez Ramirez) linger, and that’s where the praise should end.
“Lady” (**½)
She’s a road warrior, navigating the chaotic streets of Lagos, Nigeria, behind the wheel of a taxi. The job demands courage, and Lady (Jessica Gabriel’s Ujah), a woman in her 20s, has plenty. She owns her van, supports herself, and thrives in a male-dominated profession.
The setting, premise and engaging lead character spring from the imagination of first-time feature filmmaker Olive Nwosu. Her vision captures the city’s restless hustle.
The film opens with a dirge-like jazz-blues score by composer Ollie Mayo, reminiscent of early Spike Lee soundtracks. Soon, tangy Afrobeats take over, injecting energy. Saturated colors and sleek cinematography (Alana Mejia Gonzalez) give the film a dazzling look as Nwosu spins a feminist tale.
At the urging of her childhood friend Pinky (Amanda Oruh), Lady becomes a chauffeur for sex workers. A sisterhood forms between driver and passengers, stirring traumatic memories from Lady’s past that have left her fearful of sexual intimacy.
The ensemble cast is a delight: gregarious, funny, gossipy, all surviving a rat race that forces hard choices. Viewers may hope Lady finds love and drives off into a happily-ever-after sunset. The overwrought script has other plans, unfortunately.
It’s a pity. The setup, performances and production elements are far stronger than the film’s final act. Still, it’s an appealing glimpse into the seamy side of city life, with social unrest simmering in the background.
“Soul Patrol” (***½)
This poignant documentary tells a soldier’s story.
Veterans revisit their past and confront the present as writer-director J.M. Harper assembles an absorbing historical record. Home life, combat, and the aftermath of the unpopular Vietnam War unfold through Super 8 footage from the 1960s, archival material, present-day interviews and reenactments. Editors Byron Leon, Niles Howard and Gabriela Tessitore weave the pieces into a coherent, emotional whole.
A soulful soundtrack, from James Brown to Jimmy Ruffin, evokes the era.
As young men in the 1960s, these soldiers endured racism at home, the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy, and the turbulence of the Civil Rights Movement. In Vietnam, they faced bigoted commanding officers and the moral burden of killing people of color, only to return to an indifferent, hostile America.
Behind enemy lines, however, they forged deep bonds as members of the first all-Black Special Operations Long-Range Reconnaissance Patrol unit. That brotherhood endures into their 80s. Sharing memories, acknowledging PTSD, and recounting struggles becomes both cathartic and healing.
The injustice is impossible to ignore. “We busted our asses to kill and got nothing for it,” one veteran says. “I relive that mission every single day of my life.”
Logan Triplett’s sensitive cinematography captures every smile, tear and embrace. First documented in Ed Emanuel’s 2003 memoir “Soul Patrol,” the legacy of these unsung heroes is now preserved onscreen with care. Audiences are left with a single response: Thank you for your service.
“Troublemaker: The Story Behind the Mandela Tapes” (***)
Most people warrant one autobiography. Legends like Nelson Mandela deserve more.
Director Antoine Fuqua (“The Equalizer”) and writer Michael Mann build this documentary around audio tapes recorded while Mandela was writing “Long Walk to Freedom.“ Voiceovers, archival footage, photographs and interviews are stitched together by editor Jake Pushinsky. Animation by Thabang Lehobye enhances the visuals, recreating Mandela’s presence with striking intimacy.
A dramatic score by Marcelo Zarvos elevates both personal and public moments. Viewers are transported through Mandela’s life, from birth to death, freedom to imprisonment and back again.
Mandela’s words resonate deeply: “An unforgivable crime has been committed. It is a crime against all the people of our country. We say to all South Africans, Black and white, that the day of truth will dawn.”
The depiction of apartheid echoes today’s global rise in ultra-conservatism: people carrying papers to avoid arrest, voting rights under siege, crowds filling the streets. Mandela’s reflections trace how activism led to a reckoning.
There’s enough material here for a miniseries, yet this concise portrait remains comprehensive and illuminating. Iconic images linger, including the moment Mandela and F.W. de Klerk shook hands, proof that South Africa had finally become a multiracial democracy.
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Visit Film Critic Dwight Brown at DwightBrownInk.com.