Despite some of them getting great notices, plenty of festival films never get a proper U.S. release. In honor of “Fancy Dance,” I decided to highlight seven such movies—some I’ve seen, some I’d love to. My criteria was that the most recent films considered for the list were from this year’s Sundance. (Movies that premiered at SXSW or Cannes in 2024 are still new enough that they might get bought any day now.)
This is by no means an exhaustive rundown of noteworthy undistributed films, just ones that felt especially deserving of highlighting. Several of them are documentaries and essay films—the sort of challenging arthouse fare that often struggles to find its way to theaters—but maybe helping raise a little awareness for them can help—every bit of visibility matters.
“Gush” (premiered at Sundance 2023)
The term “experimental” is applied liberally to any movie that doesn’t adhere to conventional narrative tropes. As a result, the designation can lose all meaning—or be a catch-all for “Huh, that film sure was weird”—but the feature debut of Fox Maxy certainly seems to qualify. Described as a meditation on mental health, among other things, the 71-minute “Gush,” according to The Daily Utah Chronicle, “stitches together 15 years’ worth of personal and found footage … While there is no traditional narrative, images of brains, blood, heart, cigarettes, dogs, cameras, festivals, fashion, driving and dancing are repeated throughout.” The sensory overload is meant to be overwhelming, and Maxy doesn’t mind if viewers are left baffled by her maximalist visual essay. “The film was made out of disgust,” Maxy said. “But not with the intention of that disgust vibrating to the audience. It makes sense, and it doesn’t translate, but that’s okay.” Such highly personal projects rarely find a wider audience, but Maxy’s visceral, emotional approach in “Gush” sounds incredibly promising.
“Nowhere Near” (premiered at Open City Documentary Festival 2023)
Miko Revereza makes films about dislocation. His 2019 documentary “No Data Plan” found him riding an Amtrak train across America as he contemplated his anxious life as an undocumented immigrant. (Although raised in the U.S., he was born in Manila.) His latest also explores rootlessness. “Nowhere Near” sounds like a spiritual sequel of sorts to “No Data Plan,” chronicling his decision to leave the States and return to the Philippines. Split into two sections—the first in the U.S. as he prepares to depart, the second in Manila as he reunites with his grandmother—“Nowhere Near” is, according to Revereza, a “wandering psychogeographical journey [that] encapsulates the seeming impossibility of returning home,” which includes explorations of 9/11 and the Philippines’ past occupation by the U.S. “No Data Plan” was a quietly moving study of displacement, and I’m very curious to catch up with Revereza’s continuing personal odyssey.
