Filmmaker In Person Archives – Laemmle Theatres

Joe Dante Brings Back ‘The Howling’ for Halloween Season

October 5, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

Just in time for Scary Season, Laemmle Theatres and the Anniversary Classics Series present The Howling (1981), one of the best werewolf movies in horror film history, for one showing only, Thursday, October 15th at 7:00 p.m. at Laemmle’s NoHo 7.

Director Joe Dante will be in attendance for an audience Q&A.

Based on the 1977 novel of the same name by Gary Brandner, the film follows a popular news anchor (Dee Wallace) who is stalked by a serial killer, and after a traumatic encounter induces amnesia, is sent by her therapist to the Colony, a resort that is also inhabited by a secret den of werewolves. Screenwriters John Sayles and Terence H. Winkless adapted the novel, with Sayles reuniting with Dante after writing his 1978 film Piranha (and makes a cameo appearance). The cast includes Patrick Macnee, Christopher Stone, Dennis Dugan, Robert Picardo, and genre veterans Kevin McCarthy, John Carradine, and Slim Pickens. The acclaimed transformation-makeup special effects are by Rob Bottin, and were widely praised as state-of-the-art at the time. In addition to directing, Dante also edited the film.

Sayles gives the film a satiric slant amidst the eroticism and gory violence, and with Dante, leavened the horror with dollops of humor among the lycanthropic carnage. All those elements were duly acknowledged by critics of the day. Variety noted that “Dante’s work reflects Alfred Hitchcock’s insistence that terror and suspense work best when counterbalanced by a chuckle or two.” J. Hoberman in The Village Voice called it “a superior entertainment, as creepy, witty and suggestive as its disreputable genre would warrant.” Preeminent critic Pauline Kael was “entertained continuously,” citing the “spoofy, erotic tone (that) isn’t afraid of being silly—which is its chief charm.”

Its box office success spawned several sequels, generating a Howling franchise, consisting of three novels and eight films, the most recent released in 2011, with talk of a remake as recently as this year. Joe Dante, after beginning his career apprenticing under the legendary Roger Corman, gave his mentor a cameo in The Howling. His subsequent successful career includes such films as Gremlins, Innerspace, The ‘Burbs, and Matinee, as well as many other credits into the 21st century. And now the original film returns to the big screen as a seasonal offering for one night only. Don’t be afraid to discover or rediscover its delights Thursday, October 15 at 7:00 p.m. in NoHo.

‘My Undesirable Friends’ Gets a Bigger, Better, More Epic Sequel

September 30, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

It’s daunting, even for cinephiles, to be told that one of the best movies of the year is a five-hour documentary that you absolutely must see. Such was the case with last year’s My Undesirable Friends: Part I — Last Air in Moscow, which won the New York and L.A. Film critics’ top documentary award. Now comes the sequel, My Undesirable Friends: Part II – Exile, which is arguably even better, and at nearly six hours, definitely longer…but worth it.

Laemmle Theatres will screen the film in two parts at the Royal, starting Oct. 16^th. Chapters 1-3 total 192 minutes, and Chapters 4-5 are 164 minutes. For Chapters 1-3, filmmaker Julia Loktev will introduce the 1:30 p.m. and 6:00 p.m. shows on October 16, the 1:30 p.m. show on October 17, and the 6:00 p.m. show on October 18. Q&As with Loktev and subjects Valeria Ratnikova and Ksenia Mironova for Chapters 4-5 follow the 6:00 p.m. show on Oct. 17 and the 1:30 p.m. show on Oct. 18.

The tension in the original film was waiting to see when the main characters – Russian oppositional journalists who tell the truth about Vladimir Putin’s authoritarianism – would catch up to what we, watching from their future, already know: the situation is going to get worse, and Russia is going to initiate an unprovoked war against Ukraine. Due to the encroaching, increasingly fascistic state, most of the movie was filmed indoors, in the journalists’ homes, as they have to come to a decision whether it’s really, finally time to leave their home country, or risk imprisonment merely for existing there.

The sequel follows those who left, along with some new exiles, in various different countries. Some go straight to where the action is, in Ukraine, while others choose the relative safety of Turkey or Austria. Anna Nemzer, credited as codirector, uses her Jewish heritage to secure an Israeli passport, then worries that it compromises her ability to criticize the Israeli government. Because there is no imminent danger of arrest in these countries, there’s much more visual variety in the settings, as the exiles acclimate. And because they are also able to actually do some journalism again, there are more cutaways to the news footage. This may be a longer movie than the first, but it’s easier on the eyes, and attention span, in its pacing.

The tension here is less about what the subjects know and when they’ll know it, though stated predictions that the war will end quickly, and relief that dissident Navalny is still alive in prison, serve as ominous portents. Instead, Exile is more about coping with the difficulties of journalism in a world where both governments and commerce devalue it. It’s arguably the most extreme example, covering a war the totalitarian government wants everyone to think is mostly a peaceful police action, but it holds a mirror to smaller steps we might see on our own shores. As the older generation simply says, “Let’s not talk politics” when confronted with pictures of actual dead children, it feel like a reductio ad absurdum of conversations all of us have had with parents or elders. Denial persists even in the face of worse atrocities than we might hope to ever face.

Learning how to cope is a prevailing sentiment. “At least it’s not as bad as…” begins many sentences. Russian exiles find themselves stereotyped and scapegoated for the actions of their country, and refreshingly, they don’t get defensive. There’s no #NotAllRussians hashtag. Instead, in a model of how someone should behave in these circumstances, everyone here accepts a degree of collective blame. Yes, our country kinda sucks right now. Yes, maybe we could have done something to help, even if we don’t know what. Let us help you now, siding with you against our people’s atrocities.

Meryl Streep was so impressed by the first film that she signed on as executive producer for the second. Stick with it, and you’ll probably be impressed too. Don’t expect a threequel next year, however. Director Julia Loktev says she’s saving that for when Putin dies and everyone can (theoretically) return home.

“Loktev and co-editor Michael Taylor have, once again, crafted a conversational epic that imbues each twist and turn with enormous stakes.” – Siddhant Adlakha, Variety.

“Exile plays less like a journalistic procedural than Last Air in Moscow—which felt like an extension of the shoe-leather journalism practiced by the reporters—and more like a ruminative psychological drama.” – Marshall Shafer, Slant.

Brydie O’Connor Preserves a Queer Icon’s Voice in ‘Barbara Forever’

September 9, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

The title Barbara Forever undoubtedly conjures up images in the mind, perhaps of a famous Barbara beloved by all. It’s not who you’re probably thinking, though: Barbara Hammer was beloved in certain circles, but lesser known to the world at large, a state of affairs this overdue tribute-documentary looks to correct.

Barbara Forever opens at Laemmle’s Royal Sept. 11^th. Director Brydie O’Connor will participate in Q&As following the 7:30 p.m. shows at the Royal, moderated by Cameron Esposito on September 11 and Fenton Bailey on September 12.

There’s a scene in the film that’s been featured heavily in its trailer, in which Hammer, addressing a class of elementary school students, prepares them for the new kind of film she’s about to show them: an experimental film. She screens it – fortunately for all involved in that moment, it isn’t one of her many films full of female nudes – and the kids, while not necessarily knowing what to make of it, engage the material. One says he liked it; others simply try to describe what they’ve seen. But they all take away something, and none dismisses it out of hand.

That’s the way to approach Barbara Forever – wide-eyed and with childlike curiosity — which isn’t a conventional biographical documentary, but one made in the spirit of its subject, a pioneering lesbian avant-garde director. Not unlike Ross McElwee, she turned the camera on herself many years before social media had us all doing it. Unlike him, she was a queer woman who set out to make more abstract visual art about her sexuality, which was a combination of factors considered mutually exclusive in the ’60s when she began doing it.

Director Brydie O’Connor, expanding on her own short “Love, Barbara,” became fast friends with Hammer’s widow Florrie R. Burke after Hammer’s death. Given access to her archives, which had been donated to Yale, O’Connor put together Barbara Forever from bits of Hammer’s films, outtakes, new footage, old photographs, audio interviews, and more to create a subjective portrait of the director through her own images, textures, and editing rhythms. Hammer’s voice narrates; one gets little sense of O’Connor as a distinctive voice, but more a sort of vessel or medium for the spirit of her artist muse to communicate again.

As mentioned, there is a lot of nudity in Hammer’s body of work – normalizing lesbian sexuality was a huge motivating factor in her directing, including what many consider the first true lesbian lovemaking scene in her 1974 film Dyketactics. Later, as she documents her own cancer, Hammer literally goes beneath the skin, showing us her own x-rays in motion. It’s just another extension of her emotional nakedness, and after all, isn’t that often more challenging than the physical?

Hammer’s best-known film is arguably the 1992 documentary feature Nitrate Kisses, a history of LGBT repression since World War I. If you aren’t even familiar with that one, Barbara Forever offers an immersive entry point into her filmography highlights. In trying to sum up the reasons her life mattered, it necessarily covers a lot of ground, and does so creatively, but leaves many avenues open for newly converted fans to discover more on their own.

In some of Hammer’s final interviews, she made clear that she wanted to be remembered and respected for the work that she knew was important at the time. O’Connor gave her that respect due, and through her eyes, many more will now too.

“Like Hammer’s films, Barbara Forever is a polyphony of image and sound, sex and love, life and death; a radiant treat for the senses.” — Joseph Dimacchia, In Review Online.

“A beautifully assembled introduction to Hammer’s adventurous life and work.” — Zachary Barnes, Wall Street Journal.

Alvaro Olmos Torrico’s ‘The Condor Daughter’ Contrasts Andean Tradition and Modernity

September 9, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

The Andes mountains stretch out as far as the eye – and the camera – can see in the land of the Quechua people. The view suggests infinite horizons and possibilities, yet the people live in small, thatched houses, sometimes with only one room. In Alvaro Olmos Torrico’s The Condor Daughter, these contrasts come to the fore.

The Condor Daughter opens at Laemmle’s Royal and Glendale Sept. 18^th. Director Alvaro Olmos Torrico will participate in Q&As following the 7:20 p.m. show on September 18 at the Glendale and after the 4:20 p.m. and 7:00 p.m. show on September 19 at the Royal.

The movie begins in the dark interior of one thatched house, warmly lit and cosily filmed through thin curtains. A woman is giving birth at home, with the aid of a traditional midwife – Ana, played by first-time actress María Magdalena Sanizo. Her daughter, Clara (also first-timer Marisol Vallejos Montaño) sings while she works, and indeed, seems to enjoy that part of the job most. In her village out of time, the radio is practically the only tie to modernity, and modern music in particular. Ana, at her age, says she now prefers silence.

The scene where the rebellious child leaves home is a trope of the coming of age film; here, Clara silently gets out of bad, packs her stuff, and makes it all the way to the door before her mother is revealed sitting up on the bed behind her, making intense eye contact. Nothing need be said, and nobody tries to stop anything – there’s an understanding that this is how it must go, and only later will Ana pursue her to the city.

We are told by the neighbors that condors don’t attack – they only eat things that are already killed. In many ways, Ana’s village seems to be the dead meat she was nourished on. It’s scarcely known to exist, its retrograde politics include forcible and extreme haircuts for young women who dare talk to men outside their families, and the midwife role is soon to be phased out by the closest hospital, which wants to ensure safer childbirths by law. As residents leave, and crops die, some suspect a curse, and one that has come about all due to Clara leaving.

In the city, houses are jammed together, yet interiors and rooftops are far more spacious – there’s visual room here for people to grow even if nature cannot. The rooms are lighter, as even the dark ones at night are drenched in neon. Both urban and rural worlds are imbued with their own beauty, as director of photography Nicolas Wong (La Llorona) shoots the country like a painting, and the city like a photo book.

Torrico’s previous feature, Wiñay, told the opposite story: two city girls headed for the country in search of silence. Here, Clara and her best friend Flora seek the noise, and the ability to make a living in a party setting. Montaño, though new to acting, has some experience with this scene as part of an all-girl group. That she makes this aspect look the most naturally awkward attests to her quick study as an actor, and Torrico’s skill at directing her.

The writer-director has points to make, but he sees the good in both close-knit rural tradition and open urban career frontiers, ultimately coming down on the side of personal choice. Become who you are because you want to, not because you were conditioned to. It’s a universal truism that undoubtedly helped this film to become Bolivia’s official entry for the Best International Feature Oscar.

“The Condor Daughter is, without a doubt, an experience that invites us to approach the Andean world with new eyes, not only to question its harmful patriarchy but also to revalue the contributions of its women” — Gustavo Herrera Taboada, Cinencuentro.

“The Condor Daughter is a story anyone can relate to, even if they’re not familiar with the setting or the language.” — Lissete Lanuza Sáenz, Fangirlish.

Rustin Thompson’s ‘The Last Picture Shows’ Salutes the Movie Theaters That Survive

August 12, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

Ten states. 10,825 miles. 123 theaters. All filmed by Rustin Thompson for The Last Picture Shows, a cinematic portrait of the last main-street cinemas still standing in the small towns of the American west.

The Last Picture Shows opens Aug. 21 at Laemmle’s Royal. Q&As with director Rustin Thompson: Fri., Aug. 21 after the 7:20 p.m. show, moderated by film professor and author Ross Melnick; Sat., Aug. 22 after the 7:20 p.m. show, moderated by filmmaker April Wright; and Sun., Aug. 23 after the 3 p.m. show moderated by author John Trafton.

Thompson, who’s a journalist, critic, and radio host in addition to being a filmmaker, is a near one-man show, serving as his own cinematographer and sound man in addition to writing and directing. It feels like a video essay, with a musical rhythm, that’s been punctuated by more conversational interviews with the primary operators of many of the theaters he comes across.

There’s a haunting beauty to a colorful movie theater after dark as the only light source on a small-town street. There’s an even more tragic beauty to one that’s been permanently closed, standing as an echo of a more community-minded past. In the west, they tend to be the tallest thing around, as outstretched, flat plains or snow-capped peaks seem to stretch out forever into the distance. With so few people in Thompson’s frame, the buzzphrase du jour comes to mind: liminal spaces. Everything we see is some form of lost – either lost to a past that still shows enough remnants to stick in the mind, or lost to the backroads of America, unseen by those who have easier access to a mall multiplex or urban IMAX screen.

This year’s cinematic successes, from the classical adaptation of The Odyssey to the youth-skewing horror of Obsession and art-house surprise of Tuner, have proved audiences still want to go to the movies. But it’s been a rough economic road for the places that show them. Mandatory minimum runs enforced by studios can hamstring a theater, once everyone in town who wants to see a particular film has already attended. Then the relatively low profit margins of the situation left businesses with low reserves when COVID lockdowns hit. Those who hang in there do it because they love it, and urge the studios to adjust and ensure that young people still value the cinematic experience.

Thompson’s cinematography is some of the year’s absolute best, imbued with a haunting, ghost-town quality and scored to melancholy country music that suggests a vanishing way of life which is quintessentially American. Yet it’s not all tears for times gone by – most of the folks running these places are stubborn, versatile, and love what they do. Many have reconsidered the space as more than just a place for movies – they also run private parties, stage shows, and the kinds of onscreen theater and one-night only events that programs like Fathom Events make possible.

Many of these regular folks don’t know it, but they’re reflective of the larger entertainment industry as a whole. With fewer guarantees and an end to the star system, many actors and filmmakers take on second jobs these days, just as theater operators are doing. Yet the human connection every aspect of the industry provides matters all the more; the movie makes a strong case that we need these communal movie experiences, even if they’ll never make a person wealthy. There’s just enough film history offered up to give all involved some hope that the business has always been, and continues to be, cyclical.

Laemmle Theatres knows a fair bit about adaptation and the struggle, too. We salute this salute to our siblings-in-exhibition.

“The narratives are compelling, but the movie’s lyrical and elegiac tone makes it truly resonant.” – Glenn Kenny, The New York Times.

“Rustin Thompson’s The Last Picture Shows, then, is at once a cautionary tale and a love letter to an era before it becomes bygone.” – Donald Liebenson, RogerEbert.com.

Mye Hoang’s ’25 Cats From Qatar’ Are the Most Adorable Refugees

August 12, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

Cats have always gotten the short end of the stick from the movies relative to dogs, but director Mye Hoang has worked hard to even the odds, with her previous documentary Cat Daddies and her latest, 25 Cats From Qatar, which has the benefit of helping the kitties it showcases, and more.

25 Cats From Qatar opens Aug. 12th at the Town Center 5, Aug. 13th at Laemmle’s Royal, and Aug. 14th at the Glendale. Director Mye Hoang will participate in Q&As at the Glendale following the 4:30 PM shows from August 14 through August 20, as well as after the 1:20 PM and 7:00 PM shows on August 15 and 16.

Producer Alex Megaro will join Hoang on August 15 through August 19 for the 4:30 PM Q&As. Rescuer Katy McHugh will join Hoang on August 14 and August 15 after the 4:30 PM and 7:00 PM shows.

Hoang will participate in a Q&A following the 7:30pm shows on August 12 at the Town Center, and August 13 at the Royal. Cinematographer Patrick Ouziel will join Hoang on August 13. Cat food and supply donations will be accepted Aug. 14-16 by Del Gato Rescue, Urban Panthers, and Kitty Bungalow.

Cats might not take instruction from major studio directors as well as dogs do, but focus a documentary camera on them, and plenty will give the filmmaker a performance, even if hitting their marks is out of the question. In Qatar, where the stray cat population is equal to that of the human population at around three million apiece, many of these felines have become fearless. They pop up from drains, run across busy roads, beg for food and survive the harshness of gum disease and eye injury. Curiosity doesn’t cull the cat population, but it often leaves the fur babies hurting.

Into Qatar comes Milwaukee cat cafe owner Katy McHugh, looking to bring as many of the strays as possible to the U.S. for adoption – 25 is about as much as she can get away with per trip. Numerous rescuers within Qatar are her allies; over the course of four days, they help her select and prepare 25, out of the exponentially more available, that experience has taught Katy will most likely appeal to American adopters.

Qatar’s population is primarily temporary immigrant workers lured by the paychecks, and penchant for construction, of the wealthy. They take on pets – often cute kittens bought at a store – for companionship, but once their tenure is over and they have to leave the country, they often leave the cats behind too. This has helped with the rat problem, but now presents an overpopulation issue that welcomes other countries taking in, essentially, refugee cats.

Animal lovers, have no fear – this is not a movie about cats getting hurt, but rather, rescued. The conflict comes from which cats get to go and how they can make the trip; McHugh, who has done this so often she knows airport ground crew personnel by face, comes prepared, both with knowledge of the process and a charming midwestern manner that endears her to most people she meets. It’s a targeted charm that achieves results – much as a cat purring against your leg is likely to get food or rubs.

Like many advocacy documentaries, 25 Cats From Qatar is something of a call to action, but what it doesn’t outright say might be as powerful as what it does. If we can be brought to care this much about animals in need being brought over for a better life, why do we not more often care about children in similar circumstances as well?

The bottom line, though, is that if you’re coming to see hordes of adorable kitties, it delivers.

“25 Cats from Qatar succeeds not just as an advocacy piece but as a compelling, fast-paced rescue adventure.” – Alan Ng, Film Threat.

“Beyond the cats, 25 Cats From Qatar is a glimpse into the lives of ordinary people in the Middle East, kind people with the same hopes and dreams as everybody else, that feels timely and necessary right now.” – Rob Thomas, Substack.

Kent Jones’ ‘Late Fame’ Asks if Flattery Gets You Anywhere

August 4, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

For many viewers, it’s hard to recall a time when Willem Dafoe wasn’t beloved and famous. Yet in Kent Jones’ Late Fame, he’s able to embody the delight of a creative artist being recognized late in life, decades after giving up a poetry career for a practical job at the post office.

Late Fame opens Aug. 14th at Laemmle’s Royal, and then the 21^st at the Glendale, NoHo and Town Center. Director Kent Jones and screenwriter Samy Burch will participate in a Q&A following the 7:30 PM shows on August 14th and 15th at the Royal. Jones will also be a guest on Inside the Arthouse with Greg Laemmle and Raphael Sbarge.

A former film critic, festival programmer and documentarian, the sixty-something Jones knows a bit about late blooming himself. Late Fame is only his second dramatic feature as director, following 2018’s Diane, which scored star Mary Kay Place a Best Actress award from the Los Angeles Film Critics Association and the National Society of Film Critics. His newest, like Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut, is based on a novella by turn-of-the-20^th century Austrian author Arthur Schnitzler.

Jones’ approach, however, is very different – where Kubrick created artificial New York City blocks in London, and put Tom Cruise on a treadmill in front of a rear projection screen, Jones goes street-level in the real thing. There’s a liveliness and sense of space to it, from two-story coffee shops maximizing their vertical space to a surprisingly large single apartment that indicates hidden wealth on the part of its owner.

Dafoe’s Ed Saxberger has mostly accepted his blue-collar status, and is a bit bewildered when a young college student, Edmund Donovan’s dandy-ish Meyers, basically stalks him to his home to shower him with praise. Like Schnitzler himself, Meyers is part of a group of young, aspiring iconoclast writers who believe themselves well-positioned to shake things up. They use only surnames, speak formally, and theoretically eschew technology (to a point).

Gradually, Saxberger begins to enjoy the attention, particularly from showy, uninhibited would-be muse Gloria (Greta Lee). Finally flattered for his intellect, he starts to wonder if his working-class bar buddies are too unsophisticated. But even limited, newfound fame can be ultimately just as empty as the first time around – especially if you’re no longer the same person whose art earned it.

It would be easy to turn the scenario into caricature, with shallow rich kids misunderstanding an old man with real life experience. Jones, however, is more interested in fully developed characters and their nuances than in specific plot beats. These youngsters may be clueless but they genuinely want to be profound as well; Gloria’s performance art at one point is demonstrably so terrible that it stops the movie and the audience in its tracks, yet she can still deliver a meaningful poetry reading while completely high on something, and her life situation turns out to be way more complex than expected.

Ed’s post office career is designed to draw comparisons to author Charles Bukowksi, yet it also demonstrates their biggest point of contrast. Unlike Bukowski, Ed is several years sober, and enjoys his life with a steady government paycheck. He relishes the newfound attention for his work, and is bemused by the idea that he’s been “re-discovered,” but the reality is that a reasonably content, well-adjusted old man just isn’t in the same space as an angry, lovelorn young one breaking the rules of literature.

In real life, someone like Ed could take their cue from director Jones, maintaining an analytical lens throughout his careers that has proved endlessly adaptable, whether to film analysis, documentary, or fictional character study.

“…there’s a satisfying depth to it, and the movie abounds in exquisite grace notes.” – Sheri Linden, The Hollywood Reporter.

“The classic theatricality of its characters juxtaposed with the modern world gives ‘Late Fame’ the feeling of a eulogy for an artistic world that young idealists desperately want to revive.” – Jourdain Searles, RogerEbert.com.

David Alvarado’s ‘American Pachuco’ Pays Tribute to a Pioneering Director

July 21, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle 1 Comment

It’s notable and maddening that the director of the most successful Chicano movie ever never got to make another theatrical feature. Fortunately, it’s not like Luis Valdez, who made La Bamba, has been idle. David Alvarado’s American Pachuco: The Legend of Luis Valdez, catches up with the now-octogenarian to chronicle his life as an artist and activist.

Watch American Pachuco: the Legend of Luis Valdez at Laemmle’s Royal and NoHo starting July 24^th. Director David Alvarado and subjects Luis Valdez and Lou Diamond Phillips will participate in Q&As after the 7:20 PM show on July 24 at the Royal and after the 7:00 PM show on July 25 at the NoHo.

According to Merriam-Webster, “pachuco” means a young Mexican-American having a taste for flashy clothes and a special jargon and usually belonging to a neighborhood gang. The gang part is likely a stereotype; socially defiant attitudes were definitely involved, as with many youth cultures. Yet the film underscores that the Zoot Suit riots, and the Sleepy Lagoon murder that preceded them, were more about white racism than Chicano crime, though law enforcement at the time knew who was easier to blame.

Valdez immortalized the events in the play Zoot Suit, and its subsequent filmed version; it became a huge hit in Los Angeles, but fared less well on Broadway, where the documentary highlights how racially charged reviews speculated whether Valdez, who was an English major in college, could speak the language well enough to convey a point.

Considering Valdez was born in 1940 to poor migrant farm workers, it’s remarkable just how much filmed footage exists of his entire life, including the early years. Director David Alvarado, who was inspired by La Bamba to make movies, clearly reveres Valdez, and sets out to make the case that you should too. A theater kid in a family where lack of privilege made that kind of think a nigh-untouchable luxury, Luis Valdez had his first role in a school play stymied by his parents being evicted. As he grew up and understood the protests led by Dolores Huerta and Cesar Chavez, he staged activist plays by and for the workers, sometimes performed on truck beds. Alvarado frames the story as a quintessentially American success story, albeit one that must still speak out to justify itself.

Still alive and vital, Valdez is able to reflect back on camera, as is Huerta, Linda Ronstadt, Zoot Suit star Edward James Olmos, La Bamba breakthrough star Lou Diamond Phillips, producer Taylor Hackford, and more. Alvarado, whose previous documentary feature Blood Sugar Rising dealt with diabetes, has a much more pleasant task at hand here. Paying tribute to an artistic hero of his, he has the treasure trove of a lifetime of footage, from which to assemble a mere hour and a half. Edward James Olmos narrates in character as Zoot Suit‘s El Pachuco, which became his breakthrough, Tony-nominated role, though he also appears as himself.

As Valdez prepares to executive-produce a remake of La Bamba, perhaps this vital look back at his entire career as a playwright, TV producer, and activist can offer him more opportunities while he’s still with us. Like Ritchie Valens might sing, “Come on, let’s go!”

“Alvarado’s documentary turns into a defiant reminder of our past struggles, a celebration of our successes and progress, and a call to remain proud of one’s roots. “ – Monica Castillo, RogerEbert.com.

“As much as the doc is explicitly celebratory, its existence is inherently a political statement, just like Valdez’s oeuvre. To spotlight a Mexican American pioneer who still stands proud in all the nuances of his identity feels necessarily defiant. “ – Carlos Aguilar, Variety.