Ten days, five venues, and a lineup that runs from
a McDonagh-Rockwell
reunion to Lee
Chang-dong's long-awaited comeback — the 49th
edition of the Mill Valley Film
Festival (MVFF49), presented by the California Film Institute
(CAFILM), is shaping up to be one of the festival's biggest
years yet. The MVFF49 runs Thursday, October 1 through Sunday,
October 11, 2026, with 94 features and 80 shorts from 45
countries, screening across the Sequoia Cinema in Mill Valley,
the Christopher B. Smith Rafael Film Center in San Rafael, the
Lark Theater in Larkspur, and BAMPFA in Berkeley.
Opening Night on October 1 belongs to "Wild Horse
Nine" (UK/USA/Chile 2026 | 118 min.), the fifth
film from writer-director Martin
McDonagh, fresh off premieres at Venice and
Telluride. John Malkovich
and Sam Rockwell
play CIA officers dispatched from Santiago to Easter Island
just before the 1973 Chilean coup, and Rockwell sticks around
the following day to receive MVFF's Actor Tribute.
The Centerpiece film, "I Play
Rocky" (USA 2026 | 127 min.),
is Peter
Farrelly's account of how Sylvester Stallone talked his
way into starring in his own script. Anthony
Ippolito has drawn raves for his uncanny turn as the young
Stallone.
The festival closes on October 11 with Jesse
Eisenberg's "The
Debut" (USA 2026 | 105 min.), his third feature as
writer-director. Julianne Moore
plays a shy New Jersey housewife who loses herself in a local
musical production, opposite Paul Giamatti
as the domineering director who pushes her there.
Beyond the Big Nights, The MVFF49 runs a full slate of Spotlight
and Tribute programs pairing filmmakers and actors with
onstage conversations around their new work, plus a tribute
with a live performance to songwriter and
producer Linda
Perry. The MVFF49 also debuts two new sections, New Directors
and Animation, spotlighting first-time and emerging filmmakers
alongside animated features.
Documentaries have an unusually strong presence this year,
including new work from veteran nonfiction
filmmakers: "When A Witness
Recants" (USA 2026 | 112 min.), Dawn Porter's
account of three Black Baltimore teens wrongfully imprisoned
for 36 years; "Union
Town" (USA 2026 | 106 min.), Barbara
Kopple's look at New York City delivery workers organizing
against UPS and Amazon; "Musk"
(UK/USA 2026 | 225 min.), Alex Gibney's
exhaustive portrait of the tech billionaire;
and "My Undesirable
Friends: Part II – Exile" (USA 2026 | in
Russian | 355 min.), Julia Loktev's
continuation of her chronicle of Russian journalists in
exile. They're joined by "Everest: The
Other Side" (USA/China/Nepal 2026 | 110 min.),
about ski mountaineers attempting Everest's North
Face; "Burgundy"
(France 2026 | in French | 90 min.), a portrait of the French
wine region's winemakers and workers; and two directorial
feature debuts: photographer Alessandra
Sanguinetti's "The Illusion of
an Everlasting Summer" (Argentina/USA 2026 | in
Spanish | 94 min.), tracing two cousins growing up in the
Argentine Pampas over 25 years, and
musician Sean Ono
Lennon's "threeasFOUR:
Full Circle" (USA 2026), a portrait of the
avant-garde New York fashion collective. The festival also
just added the West Coast premiere of "NAZA"
(UK 2026 | 80 min.), Yuval Abraham
and Rachel Szor's
Venice Special Jury Prize winner examining the systems behind
Israel's killing of civilians in Gaza.
And within the broader lineup,
Asian cinema has an especially strong showing this year, led
by two returning masters. Hirokazu
Koreeda brings the Bay Area premiere
of "Look
Back"
(ルックバック | Japan 2026
| in Japanese | 100 min.), a live-action adaptation of Tatsuki
Fujimoto's manga about two middle-school girls, the outgoing
Fujino and the reclusive Kyomoto, who bond over drawing and
grow up together as manga artists. Alongside it is Lee
Chang-dong's "Possible
Love" (가능한 사랑 |
South Korea 2026 | in Korean | 164 min.), his first feature in
eight years, which won the Grand Jury Prize and FIPRESCI Prize
at Venice this fall and is South Korea's Oscar submission; it
arrives at the MVFF with an Auteur Award and Spotlight slot on
October 2. Rounding out the sidebar: "Elephants in
the Fog"
(तिनीहरू | Nepal
2026 | in Nepali | 103 min.), Abinash Bikram
Shah's debut about a Kinnar community, which won the Un
Certain Regard Jury Prize at Cannes this year;
and "A Girl
Unknown" (China/France 2026 | in Mandarin | 125
min.), Zou Jing's
Cannes Critics' Week-winning debut about China's one-child
policy. Both of the latter land in the New Directors
section.
Other masters have work in the festival
too. Pedro
Almodóvar's "Bitter
Christmas" (Amarga Navidad | Spain 2026 | in
Spanish | 111 min.) screens as part of the
lineup. James Gray is
on hand with a Spotlight Program of his own
for "Paper
Tiger" (USA/Brazil/Italy 2026 | 115 min.), his
Cannes-selected crime drama starring Adam
Driver, Scarlett
Johansson, and Miles Teller
as a Queens family entangled with the Russian mob in 1986.
The festival also leans into its Bay Area roots, with local
films screening alongside the bigger premieres,
including Beth de
Araújo's "Josephine"
(USA 2026 | 121 min.), shot in San Francisco and
starring Channing Tatum
and Gemma Chan as
parents of a young girl, Josephine (Mason
Reeves), coping with trauma after witnessing a violent
crime.
Awards season regulars know to watch Mill Valley's lineup
closely, and the MVFF49 won't break that habit. It's the same
story every year: a run of international discoveries deep
enough to make the whole festival feel like a treat for Bay
Area film lovers, not just an Oscar preview.
What follows are reviews of a few films from this year's
program.
Click on each film title or poster to view showtimes and
ticket details on the MVFF49's
official website.
Between the two masters getting Auteur Awards this
year, it would be easy to miss the film that might be
the best thing at the MVFF49
entirely: Fernando
Eimbcke's arresting fifth
feature "Flies,"
which won two prizes out of Berlin this year and
hasn't lost an ounce of its charge since.
Olga (Teresita
Sánchez) has built a life out of routine,
alone in a sprawling Mexico City apartment complex
across from a hospital, until money troubles push her
to rent out a room. Her new tenant (Hugo
Ramírez) turns out to have smuggled in more
than his luggage: his nine-year-old son, Cristian
(Bastian
Escobar), whose mother is in the hospital across
the street. What starts as an intrusion Olga never
agreed to slowly becomes the first real connection
she's let herself have in years.
Escobar, in his acting debut, is the film's live wire
as the mesmerizing young boy Cristian, who escapes
into an invented arcade game called Cosmic Defenders
Pro whenever the real world gets to be too much. He
gives Cristian a curiosity that refuses to be dimmed
by circumstance, and his determination to see his mom
cracks Olga open scene by scene. Ramírez, a
veteran stage actor making his feature film debut,
gives a natural performance as Cristian's father, and
his every move and word carries the weight of a man
trying to stay hopeful through something genuinely
terrible. He shows the deepest affection to Cristian
and brings him hope while doing his best to survive.
Hugo Ramírez and Bastian Escobar
in Flies
The bond that eventually forms between Olga and
Cristian recalls Walter
Salles's "Central
Station" (1998), another story of a guarded
woman and a young boy finding in each other something
neither expected to need. Eimbcke doesn't chase that
film's scale, and the film is better for staying
small: shot in black and white by cinematographer
María
Secco, it finds its poetry in apartment hallways,
hospital waiting rooms, and the ordinary rhythms of
two strangers slowly becoming family.
"Flies"
won the Berliner Morgenpost Readers' Jury Award and
the Prize of the Ecumenical Jury at this year's
Berlinale, and it's not hard to see why: this is a
film that earns its emotion honestly, without ever
reaching for it. It's easily one of the best films at
the MVFF49 this year, and not one to miss.
Noah
Segan's elegantly crafted sophomore feature "The Only
Living Pickpocket in New York" is one of the
most satisfying films at MVFF49, a captivating, thrilling
tour through all five boroughs and a true love letter to
both New York City and the movies that have loved it
before. It's centered on an extraordinary performance
from John
Turturro as Harry Lehman, an old-school pickpocket
still lifting wallets and watches in a city that's moved
on to credit cards and cell phones, and still caring for
his disabled wife back in the Bronx.
Turturro hasn't been given a showcase this rich in years,
and he makes the absolute most of it, finding both the
comedy and the quiet heartbreak in a man who's outlived
his own profession. This is easily one of the best films
of the year, the kind of confident, lived-in New York
filmmaking that doesn't come around often anymore. The
film opens in theaters November 19, 2026.
Iron Boy
(Le Corset | France/Belgium 2026 | in French | 90 min.)
Louis Clichy's
solo directing debut, "Iron
Boy", which won the Special Jury Prize in Un Certain
Regard at Cannes this year, is a deeply personal project for the
former Pixar animator: like his young hero Christophe (voiced by
Clichy's own son, Gary Clichy),
Clichy grew up on a farm and wore a back brace of his own. When
Christophe starts collapsing without warning, a doctor fits him
with an iron corset, pulling him away from farm work and his stern
father, Jean (Dimitri Colas),
and toward a new friend, Clara (Brune Moulin),
and a passion for the church organ under a kindly old organist,
Michel (Alexandre Astier).
The film's visual style is genuinely striking, hand-drawn in ink
and watercolor, with a loose, painterly quality that gives the
flat farmland of rural France its own strange beauty. It's just a
shame the story underneath that style doesn't hit as hard as the
images do; the beats of Christophe's coming-of-age feel familiar
in a way the animation never does, and the film coasts more on
mood than on momentum. Worth seeing for the craft alone, even if
the story doesn't fully earn it. The film opens in theaters
October 14, 2026.
Another year, another Pedro
Almodóvar film built around a constellation of
women in crisis, and "Bitter
Christmas" has all the trademarks: the
color, the melodrama, the tangle of women loving and
losing in equal measure. Elsa (Bárbara
Lennie), an advertising director mourning her mother
during one long, unraveling weekend in 2004, turns out to
be the autofictional creation of Raúl (Leonardo
Sbaraglia), a blocked screenwriter mining his own
life, and his longtime assistant Mónica (Aitana
Sánchez-Gijón), for material twenty-two years
later.
What's missing is the momentum. Almodóvar's usual
rapid-fire, overlapping dialogue is all here, but this
time it doesn't move the story forward so much as spin
in place, and the film runs long stretches without the
campy humor that's usually there to leaven his
melodrama. The result is a movie that looks and sounds
like prime Almodóvar without quite earning its
length. Bitter Christmas opens in select cities November
13, 2026, and nationwide November 25, 2026.
Bedford Park
(USA 2026 | in English/Korean | 119 min.)
Stephanie
Ahn's "Bedford
Park", winner of the Special Jury Award for
Debut Feature at Sundance this year, is a lived-in
portrait of Korean immigrant life in America and the
friction between the generation that arrived and the
one that grew up here. Audrey (Moon
Choi) is a physical therapist still tethered to her
parents' expectations. After a car accident, she crosses
paths with Eli (Son
Sukku), a former wrestler carrying his own guilt and
baggage, and the two slowly build a bond neither
expected. Both performances are excellent, finding real
tenderness in two people who don't quite know how to ask
for what they need, with strong support from Won
Mi-kyung and Kim
Eung-soo as Audrey's parents.
Moon Choi and Son Sukku
in Bedford Park
Where the film comes up short is holding the audience's
attention. Long stretches of Audrey and Eli's story struggle to
pull you in, even though nothing about the filmmaking itself is
sloppy or slow on paper. It's less a matter of pacing than of
engagement: the story keeps you at arm's length when it should be
drawing you closer. Still, the performances alone make the film
worth catching.
Another Sundance winner in this year's lineup, Beth de
Araújo's "Josephine"
took home both the Grand Jury Prize and the Audience
Award this year, and it tackles a genuinely difficult
subject with San Francisco as its
backdrop: an eight-year-old girl, Josephine (Mason
Reeves), witnesses a violent assault on a morning
run with her father, Damien (Channing
Tatum), and the film follows the fallout through her
eyes as her parents, including her mother, Claire (Gemma
Chan), struggle to help her process it.
Channing
Tatum and Mason Reeves in Josephine
The most mesmerizing performance by far comes from
Reeves, who plays Josephine's innocence, vulnerability,
and eventual bravery all with equal conviction for a
first-time child actor. But the film has an engagement
problem in its storytelling that keeps it from landing
with the full force it's clearly aiming for, and it
could have used a tighter edit to keep that momentum up.
Josephine opens in theaters December 4, 2026.
Elephants in the Fog
(तिनीहरू | Nepal/Germany/Brazil/France/Norway 2026 | in Nepali | 108 min.)
Abinash Bikram
Shah's directorial debut, "Elephants in the
Fog", winner of the Un Certain Regard Jury Prize at
Cannes this year, is the first Nepali feature ever selected for
the festival. It opens with villagers marching through the forest
at night, torches lit, painting eyes on tree trunks and setting
off firecrackers to keep wild elephants from destroying their
crops. At the center of the village is a house of Kinnar women, an
ancient South Asian third-gender community bound by a vow of
celibacy in exchange for the power to bless or curse, led by the
matriarch Pirati (Puspa Thing
Lama). Among the women in her care is Apsara
(Aliz Ghimire),
whose disappearance later drives the plot. Meanwhile, Pirati
herself is secretly carrying on a relationship with a mustachioed
drum player, Master (Aashant Sharma),
who lives in a nearby city.
Puspa Thing Lama in Elephants in the Fog
The elephants in the title are more than a backdrop.
The villagers fear them enough to burn firecrackers and
paint eyes on tree trunks to keep them away, and the
elephants, in turn, are just as wary of the humans
encroaching on their forest. That same mutual fear defines
how the village treats Pirati's community: revered as
spiritual figures whose blessings and curses carry real
weight, yet held at arm's length and quietly despised.
By the film's end, it's the elephants circling the
village, not the society meant to be her own, that Pirati's
house seems to have more in common with, two groups the
village fears without ever trying to understand.
The plot kicks into gear when Apsara disappears one night and the
police respond with cold indifference, forcing Pirati to
investigate on her own. Her search leads her to MJ
( Sanjay Gupta), a
man she believes Apsara was with before she vanished, and at one
point, while interrogating him in the forest, he suddenly bolts
and the film breaks into an actual chase scene, a tonal swing so
abrupt it plays as almost absurd rather than tense.
Moments like that aren't isolated. The Gurumata, a guru
who speaks in a thin, mosquito-like whisper, is treated
with the deference of a cult leader without the film ever
establishing why she commands that kind of authority.
Scenes like these accumulate until some stretches feel
less like they're building toward something than skipping
a step to get there.
There's no denying "Elephants in the
Fog" offers a
refreshing look into a community rarely, if ever, shown
on screen, and Puspa Thing Lama's lead performance carries
real dignity throughout. But the mystery at the film's
center resolves itself in a way that feels less like an
earned revelation than a trick being played on the
audience, and between that and the logical gaps along the
way, the film never quite earns the sympathy it's clearly
asking for.
In the end, this is a film with more conviction than control: it
knows exactly who it wants you to root for, but it hasn't quite
figured out how to get you there.
Look Back
(ルックバック | Japan 2026 | in Japanese | 100 min.)
Hirokazu
Koreeda has two films out this year, and they couldn't
be more different. The first, "Sheep in
the Box" (2026), premiered in competition at Cannes
this year and was an original story, the kind Koreeda
almost always writes and directs himself. The second,
"Look
Back", is neither: it's a remake, a
live-action version of the acclaimed 2024
animated film of the same name, itself adapted
from Tatsuki Fujimoto's one-shot manga.
The story spans thirteen years. The young Fujino
(Furi Nanase) is a
popular grade-schooler celebrated for her comics in the class
newspaper. The young Kyomoto (Rokka Okada) is a
reclusive classmate whose artwork is good enough to spark Fujino's
jealousy, then her admiration, then a full creative
partnership. When the story jumps ahead, the adult Fujino
(Natsuki Deguchi)
and adult Kyomoto (Aju Makita) take
over.
Nanase and Okada carry the film's early stretch well,
with an easy, believable rhythm to their scenes together.
You feel two kids figuring out how to be friends, then
how to be collaborators, and it's the strongest material
in the film. Deguchi and Makita take the baton smoothly
when the story jumps ahead; the seam between the two sets
of actors barely registers.
The images throughout are genuinely beautiful, composed
shot after shot as if lifted straight off a manga page,
with clean lines and deliberate white space. There's real
craft in how faithfully the film honors its source
material's visual rhythm. But that fidelity may be
exactly the problem: if the goal was to replicate the
look of a manga panel this closely, it raises an obvious
question, which is why make this live action at all
instead of animating it again.
Natsuki Deguchi and Aju Makita
in Look Back
The bigger issue is the story itself. We're told, again
and again, that Fujino and Kyomoto love making manga
together, and we watch them do it, but the film gives us
little beyond the fact of their happiness. When their
partnership ends and the two go separate ways, it should
land like a gut punch. Instead it happens fast, almost
off-handedly, and it's hard to feel the loss the film
clearly wants us to feel. We're told this bond mattered
enormously to both of them. We're never quite convinced
of it ourselves.
That gap shows up again in the back half, when the two
are estranged for years before an ending pulls them back
together. It's meant to be devastating, and on paper it
should be, since it borrows the manga's own bittersweet
final turn almost beat for beat. But because so little
time was spent building the friendship that's being
mourned, the ending plays more like a well-executed idea
than an earned emotion.
This is a film occasionally striking, and never less than
handsomely made. But from a filmmaker of Koreeda's caliber,
working from a story this beloved, watchable isn't enough. This
may be a rare case where the original is simply better left alone.