Venice/Telluride/Toronto 2026: The Wrap-Up and the Rankings

I've been going to film festivals long enough that I have a group of friends who I only see at them. Colleagues and pals who live in New York, London, Chicago, Seattle, Boston, Toronto and elsewhere all converge at different festivals, our lives intersecting for a week or two before we return to our normal world. And when we see each other, it's a chance to catch up on what's going on beyond movies: Kids grow up, parents die, people get new romantic partners, people become grandparents. I have joked to my peers that going to film festivals is my equivalent of Boyhood in which I always see someone a year older, quickly discovering what has changed since last time we met. You go to festivals for the films, but you discover that what you also come to treasure are the other folks who are there.

Like this year's Cannes, Venice and Toronto had their share of strong movies, but the truth is that the festivals weren't as consistently stellar as in the past. And when that's the case, what helps compensate is hanging out with people you enjoy. In that regard, my two-and-a-half-week trip to Italy and Canada was far from a disappointment. I feel very lucky to encounter so many friendly faces wherever I go, all of us bonded by the shared madness of navigating the stress and exhaustion of a film festival. And when you do see something amazing, these are the people you share that experience with. It's an incredible feeling and a wonderful memory.

There is also another rewarding element about attending festivals. Every once in a while, you bump into someone who lets you know that your work is meaningful to them. I cannot thank enough the many people who came up to me at TIFF to introduce themselves — or reintroduce themselves, since it had been a while since we'd seen each other — and then launch into conversations about movies they'd really loved at the festival, or just to thank me for my writing or the podcast. Every single time it happened, it made my day. I get energized traveling to festivals, but the kind words and unbridled enthusiasm from others also adds fuel to my tank. Those warm, random conversations between films can be such a high.

When you start going to festivals, it can be tempting to see how many movies you can consume, as if the person who logs the most films "wins." People grow out of that tendency pretty quickly, though, realizing that it's often a case of diminishing returns, and one reason is you'd rather have dinner with a friend than check out one last movie that night. You can always watch that movie down the line — time with buddies is far more precious. 

I've been aware of all this for a few years now. But after having a delightful Venice and Toronto, watching a ton of noteworthy films, I realize as I'm sitting here at home that I'm thinking a lot about the people, as opposed to the films. We do this work because we love it. But we also do it because we love so many of our fellow travelers we run into while doing that work. 

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Below is a ranking of every film I've seen that played at Venice, Telluride and/or Toronto. To be clear, I didn't see all of these during this fall festival window: Many of these movies were watched at Sundance or Cannes. But I find it helpful to make myself list them all out, figuring out which ones rise to the top. And what I've determined is that, even though this year's festivals weren't as terrific as earlier editions, I sure have seen some stunners. There are plenty of films still to catch, but my Top 10 of 2026 is already looking pretty stacked. Links lead to individual reviews. 

58. Up Against It
57. Hombre Al Agua
56. A Talent for Murder
55. Being Heumann
54. The Idiot(s)
53. The Life and Deaths of Wilson Shedd
52. The Girl With the Leica
51. Father Joe
50. Gentle Monster
49. Primetime
48. Tenzing
47. Alpha Gang
46. La Bola Negra
45. Look Back
44. Bitter Christmas
43. The Face of Horror
42. I Play Rocky
41. Love of Your Life
40. The Basics of Philosophy
39. Bucking Fastard
38. Babies
37. Misty Green
36. Elsinore
35. The Beloved
34. The Unknown

33. In Waves
32. Coward
31. Oasis: Don't Look Back in Anger
30. Ashes
29. The Assassin(s)
28. Club Kid

27. Hope
26. Furies
25. Queer Edward II
24. Ladies and Gentlemen, Brian Mulroney
23. Musk
22. The Dreamed Adventure
21. The Diary of a Chambermaid
20. Ink
19. The Debut
18. The Only Living Pickpocket in New York
17. Too Much Sugar
16. Rehearsals for a Revolution
15. Clarissa
14. Wild Horse Nine
13. La Gradiva
12. Minotaur
11. A Long Winter
10. Fjord

9. Josephine
8. The Man I Love
7. Everytime

6. Tender Loving Care
5. Woman Unknown
4. My Undesirable Friends: Part II – Exile
3. Possible Love
2. Once Upon a Time in Harlem
1. All of a Sudden 

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What else is there to say? Well, I'm looking forward to seeing Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother and NAZA, among other films. Also, I am still recovering from that one film that has a supporting character named Grierson, which is said several times during the movie. (I cannot tell you how rare it is to hear my name in a movie.) And if you'd like to hear me talk about my festival experiences, you're in luck. I was on The Screen Podcast both in Venice and in Toronto. I joined Nicolas Rapold for The Last Thing I Saw in Venice, as well as hung out with Devika Girish over at The Film Comment Podcast. 

Thanks for tagging along with my festival adventures. There are so many good movies heading to theaters soon. And hopefully several others none of us have seen yet. 

(The above picture was taken one morning at Venice. It was such a beautiful day. In the midst of a festival, sometimes it's good to look up and admire the clouds.) 

The Grierson & Leitch Podcast: The Best Films of 2026 (So Far)

We've reached the halfway point of the year. So it's time for Will and me to each reveal our picks for the six best films of 2026 so far. My list includes a big studio movie, a three-hour road trip shot on a crappy old smartphone, a semi-autobiographical drama a Kafkaesque nightmare, a satire about the Israel/Palestine conflict, and a ghostly tale about a missing boat that returns. Check out our choices down below.

Cannes 2026: The Wrap-Up and the Rankings

Every year, I come home from Cannes with a song. One of the pleasures of this festival, beyond seeing so many invigorating films, is to be introduced (or reintroduced) to a tune that works astonishingly well within the context of a movie. In past years, tracks like Bacao Rhythm & Steel Band's cover of 50 Cent's "PIMP" (from Anatomy of a Fall) or Anna Von Hausswolff's "Stranger" (from Sound of Falling) became the unofficial theme of those editions of Cannes, providing pleasure not just inside the accompanying film but during the months after the festival when I'm still playing the track on repeat. Those songs become my memory of those two weeks on the Croisette.

Many have written about this year's Cannes being underwhelming, which I generally agree with. But the way in which I feel that most acutely is the fact that I'm not leaving France with a signature song. There were some memorable tracks scattered across several films. I loved Ira Sachs' period-specific tunes for The Man I Love. Two different songs from Kind of Blue put in an appearance. And a colleague wholeheartedly suggests that this year's song has to be "A Long December," which is implemented snarkily in Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma. But still, no musical moment fully wowed me. And maybe that says something about the lineup's relative strengths. Certainly, this Cannes featured some significant movies. But perhaps not enough. And, likewise, no song that encapsulated the highs that come from discovering unexpectedly terrific films.

Going into this edition, the major story was that Hollywood was sitting the festival out, with only a handful of American indie auteurs screening their latest projects. I wasn't concerned about that relative lack of a U.S. presence, figuring that the established international directors would more than compensate. (They usually do, as witnessed by last year's all-timer edition.) And, sure enough, as I look at my rankings of this year's Cannes films, many of my top picks are from the big names. But what ultimately hurt this Cannes was that there weren't enough exciting surprises, the out-of-nowhere stunners from filmmakers whose names you needed to learn. (Here's where I have to own up to not being able to catch up with a few movies from exactly those kinds of emerging talents. I cannot wait for La Gradiva, Everytime, The Match and Rehearsals for a Revolution.) In retrospect, maybe the 79th Cannes Film Festival will be remembered as a transitional one, the new guard about to supplant the old masters. That sounds good to me.

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Without further ado, from worst to best, here's a list of everything I saw, with links leading to individual reviews:   

37. Diamond
36. Her Private Hell
35. The Birthday Party
34. Parallel Tales
33. Butterfly Jam
32. The Electric Kiss
31. Another Day 
30. Gentle Monster
29. Sheep in the Box
28. La Bola Negra
27. Bitter Christmas
26. A Woman’s Life
25. Jim Queen
24. The Beloved 
23. The Unknown
22. Aqui
21. In Waves
20. I'll Be Gone in June
19. Coward
18. Nagi Notes 
17. Ashes
16. Club Kid
15. The Blow
14. Hope
13. The Dreamed Adventure
12. The Diary of a Chambermaid 
11. A Man of His Time
10. Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma 
9. Paper Tiger 
8. Clarissa
7. Minotaur
6. Fjord 
5. The Man I Love
4. Moulin
3. Fatherland 
2. Once Upon a Time in Harlem
1. All of a Sudden               

You may notice that my No. 2 film, Once Upon a Time in Harlem, premiered at Sundance. That remarkable documentary played in Directors' Fortnight; I wish I could have seen it a second time, especially with a more international audience. But for now, it ranks just slightly behind Ryusuke Hamaguchi's All of a Sudden, a three-hour stunner that screened early in the Competition, promising an incredible festival that never quite materialized. No matter: The Hamaguchi film is singular, capturing the acclaimed writer-director pushing himself into even more extraordinary terrain. And for all the talk about a weak Competition, I'm awfully happy to have seen the riveting new films from Cristian Mungiu, László Nemes, Paweł Pawlikowski, Ira Sachs and Andrey Zvyagintsev. Did Pedro Almodóvar, Asghar Farhadi and Hirokazu Koreeda let me down with their misfires? Absolutely, but even the greats stumble from time to time.

One film not included in my rankings was Ken Russell's The Devils, from 1971, which screened in Cannes Classics and was the hot ticket of the festival. Only screening once, and in one of the smaller theaters, the restored director's cut may not have been my favorite film of this year's edition, but it was easily the most energizing moment of Cannes. I haven't watched The Devils since college, but its audaciousness and shock hadn't lessened, and its emotional undercurrents were far richer than I recalled. Many in the room had never seen the film, and you could feel the thrill of discovery happening in real time. That's what film festivals, and film love in general, is all about. This new restoration looks immaculate; you should seek it out when it opens in the U.S. 

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I've been coming to Cannes since 2013, and last year was the first time I correctly guessed what film would win the Palme d'Or. Not that I think I'm on some sort of roll now, although once again this year I did see all 22 films in Competition. 

Best as I can tell, there are three likely contenders to take home the big prize: All of a Sudden, Fatherland or Minotaur. I think all three movies are superb, which makes it even harder to predict a winner. What also makes it tricky is that the jury is made up of only nine people, and who can possibly guess what films, say, Park Chan-wook or Demi Moore really dug? Is it the kind of movies they themselves make? Are they movies that speak more to the head or the heart? Who knows? This uncertainty, of course, makes the guessing all the more fun.

In their own way, each of my three contenders Grapple With How We Live Now. Hamaguchi offers hard-earned optimism while Pawlikowski and Zvyagintsev are more suspect about what seems like the permanent bleakness of our moment, with Fatherland connecting 1949 Germany to now and Minotaur returning to the initial invasion of Ukraine by Russia. If there is a "perfect" film of the three -- a term I use extremely advisedly -- it would be the precise, controlled Fatherland, which says everything it wants to say in 82 minutes. On the other end of the spectrum is All of a Sudden's enveloping 196 minutes, which encompasses the beginning, middle and end of a short-lived friendship in its expansive running time. Minotaur is chillier than the other two, reaffirming Zvyagintsev's status as one of our greats, and it's probably the most "conventional" -- another term I'm using extremely advisedly -- in its narrative approach. 

After much debate, it's also the film I'm picking to win the Palme d'Or. Minotaur's merging of the story of a businessman who suspects his wife of adultery with a larger commentary on the corruption going on in Russia is an affecting strategy that could resonate with jury members who want to vote for something that's political but also about people. Plus, there's Zvyagintsev's own story: He spent 40 days in a coma during Covid and was close to death. Will the jury be moved by his circumstance? Maybe, maybe not. But if Fatherland's concision might come across as airless to those immune to its spell -- and All of a Sudden too "baggy" to the impatient -- Minotaur's potent timeliness could be an ideal compromise choice for Park and his fellow jurors. How certain do I feel about my pick? Oh, maybe 20 percent. 

We'll see soon enough if I'm right. But before I sign off, one last thought: Perhaps this year's unofficial song was the one that was mentioned consistently whenever anyone discussed Koreeda's Competition title, Sheep in the Box. You won't believe how many people, independently of one another, asked me, "Do you just keep getting 'Dick in a Box' stuck in your head when you hear that title?" I hadn't, but I certainly did after colleagues kept bringing it up. Maybe this year's Cannes wasn't an all-timer, but we found ways to amuse ourselves nonetheless.

Sundance 2026: Ranking the Best and Worst of the Festival

 

I first attended Sundance in 2009. Over the nearly 20 years I went to Park City, I learned several things:

• Wear your snow boots on the plane. You're going to be wearing them the whole time anyway, so there's no point in packing them in your suitcase.
• Don't take a connecting flight from Los Angeles to Salt Lake City. Just take a direct flight. You don't want to deal with possible issues in San Jose or Las Vegas or Phoenix on the way there.
• Yes, you'll want to bring long johns.
• The turkey chili at the Library is good. So are the spicy chicken sandwiches at Fresh Market. (You're always desperate to find reliable, quick food at Sundance when you're dashing from venue to venue.) 
• Drink a lot of water. Take a lot of Advil. Elevation headaches are real.
• Walk slower than you're used to, even if you're in a hurry. You have no idea when you might step on some black ice and take a nasty tumble. (Thankfully, it never happened to me. But I've had colleagues break collarbones at Sundance.)
• If your boots suddenly start falling apart, buy Gorilla Tape at Fresh Market. It works wonders.  

These sorts of lessons you acquire from years attending any festival. What will be strange is that, starting next year, this knowledge will largely be irrelevant. In 2027, Sundance moves to Boulder. I've never been, but even for those who have, it will be a unique festival experience. Normally, when you go to a new festival, there's someone older who's been there a bunch and can show you the ropes and fill you in on all the little pro-tips you need. In a sense, all of us will be going through our first Sundance next year. That will be incredibly disorienting, and I'm curious how we collectively process this new place that the festival will call home. 

I knew the final Park City Sundance would be bittersweet. My friends and colleagues took tons of pictures. There were final stops at Grub Steak -- I always got the meatloaf and the wild rice and mushroom soup -- and one last movie at the Eccles. But I found the overall mood more resigned and pragmatic than emotional. Two different people said to me, "Park City doesn't want us here anymore. It feels like the city has already moved on." Adding to that feeling was that, as soon as the festival ended this year, the local Holiday Village theater, which was used for press & industry screenings, was scheduled to be bulldozed. (The theater had actually been closed for a while.) 

Journalists and film critics may have a lot of memories of coming to Sundance, but Park City as a whole seemed ready to be rid of us. And maybe the feeling was mutual: A fellow critic told me, in no uncertain terms, "I love Sundance, but I hate Park City," an acknowledgment, among other things, of the city and the state's conservative politics. Ironically, it turned out to be one of the warmest Sundances in memory: It was as if the city couldn't even be bothered to give visitors the obligatory snow and freezing temperatures. And then there were the horrors going on in America while we were at the festival. It was hard not to feel a little down in the mouth, despite the pleasure of being around so many people I enjoy so much.

As I've mentioned before, Sundance was my first film festival, so I have a fondness for the place. But Sundance's move creates an interesting question: Is a festival a location or something else? (I realize that Sundance actually started in Salt Lake City in the late 1970s, but I think it's fair to say most attendees associate Park City with Sundance.) A festival's ethos is woven into its location. True/False is Columbia, Missouri. Cannes is a tourist town in the south of France. If those festivals up and left, how would a new setting affect the movies I saw? It's something I've never thought about. Next year, I will a lot in Boulder.

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But how were the actual movies at the final Sundance in Park City? Pretty darn good. Below is a ranking of everything I saw before, after or during the festival. (Sundance's decision to continue to offer a streaming portal during the festival's final weekend is a great way to play catch-up.) Links lead to individual reviews. 

28. The Gallerist
27. The AI Doc: Or How I Became an Apocaloptimist
26. See You When I See You
25. Run Amok
24. I Want Your Sex
23. Zi
22. Chasing Summer
21. Union County
20. The Invite
19. Time and Water
18. Sentient 
17. Buddy
16. Broken English
15. The Shitheads
14. The Oldest Person in the World
13. Leviticus 
12. Filipinana
11. One in a Million
10. The History of Concrete
9. Nuisance Bear
8. The Weight
7. The Only Living Pickpocket in New York
6. Closure
5. Carousel
4. If I Go Will They Miss Me
3. Josephine
2. The Friend’s House Is Here
1. Once Upon a Time in Harlem

I am not the first person to note that the best film at this year's Sundance was made in 1972. David Greaves' Once Upon a Time in Harlem, built from footage shot by his father William 54 years ago, immediately joins the ranks of other recent documentaries like Summer of Soul and Amazing Grace that were believed to be lost to time. It's a revelation, narrowly edging out Maryam Ataei and Hossein Keshavarz's graceful, slyly subversive Tehran-set drama The Friend's House Is Here. I'm pretty high on my Top Five in particular, and look forward to seeing how they're received in the wider world. (Even in Park City, writer-director Rachel Lambert's prickly romantic drama Carousel was divisive. I expect a similar response going forward, although I contend it's a gem.)

Thanks for reading. If you'd like to hear me talking about the festival, I appeared on the Film Comment podcast not once but twice. I returned to Nicolas Rapold's The Last Thing I Saw. And before the festival started, I was invited to join Screen Rant senior film critic Gregory Nussen to discuss what Sundance film is the greatest ever. (I'm very happy with my choice.) On to the next one.