Laemmle Theatres

Babysitting the Void: Stalled Adulthood in ‘Fantasy Life.’

March 31, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

Matthew Shear’s Fantasy Life is the kind of modest, perceptive character piece that sneaks up on you: initially breezy, even familiar, before revealing a deeper ache beneath its carefully arranged surfaces. A lightly comic drama about stalled adulthood and second acts, Fantasy Life centers on Sam (Shear), an anxious, recently laid-off paralegal whose life has quietly collapsed. Through a combination of desperation and social proximity, Sam takes a babysitting job for a wealthy, creatively inclined couple, David and Dianne, and finds himself drawn into their fragile domestic ecosystem.

Tune into Inside the Arthouse to hear Matthew Shear discuss his directorial debut with co-hosts Greg Laemmle and Raphael Sbarge, or come see it at the Laemmle Royal, NoHo, Glendale, or Town Center theaters beginning April 3rd.

The premise has the makings of farce, but the film resists easy escalation. Instead, Shear builds a tone of low-key, accumulating discomfort, where every interaction feels slightly off-balance. Sam’s crippling anxiety isn’t played for charm; it’s awkward, limiting, and at times frighteningly disruptive. Yet it also becomes the unlikely bridge between him and Dianne, a former actress who now drifts through her own life with a kind of numbed disillusionment. Their connection—tentative, intimate, and ethically precarious—forms the film’s emotional core, less a conventional romance than a mutual recognition between two people who feel they’ve missed their moment.

It’s here that Amanda Peet delivers what many have called a career-best turn. As Dianne, she is at once brittle and luminous, exuding the residual magnetism of someone who once commanded attention while allowing the cracks in that persona to show. There’s no vanity in her performance: Peet leans entirely into Dianne’s dissatisfaction and flashes of need, and the result is both funny and devastating. In the context of Peet’s long absence from major film roles, the performance carries an added resonance; a meta-textual echo of the character’s own sidelined career. That poignancy deepens further given Peet’s recently disclosed breast cancer diagnosis, lending her return an added layer of vulnerability that subtly accentuates the film’s themes of resilience and reinvention.

Shear, pulling from a historied lineage of New York-based neurotic comedies, crafts dialogue that feels lived-in and unforced, with a sharp ear for the rhythms of privileged but emotionally adrift lives. The ensemble, anchored by Alessandro Nivola’s charmingly self-involved musician, creates a dense social web where everyone seems both deeply connected and fundamentally alone. The stakes are, on paper, relatively small, but Shear understands that for his characters, these life developments and emotional entanglements feel seismic. Ultimately, the film is less about dramatic transformation than about the stories we tell ourselves to get through the day, and the uneasy realization that those stories might be all we have.

In that sense, Fantasy Life more than lives up to its title. It’s about the gap between the lives we imagine and the ones we inhabit, and the strange, fleeting moments when those two begin, however imperfectly, to overlap.

“Shear eloquently portrays the ways that near-misses can still feel like cataclysmic life events.” – Christian Zilko, IndieWire

“The kind of quiet film about life’s little moments, insecurities, and challenges that we rarely see… Peet reminds us that she is a bona fide star.” – Phil Walsh, Geek Vibes Nation

Only ‘Yes!’: Inside Nadav Lapid’s Existential Howl

March 31, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

If there’s a unifying impulse in Nadav Lapid’s cinema, it’s refusal: refusal of comfort, of distance, and of the idea that art can stand apart from the conditions that produce it. In Yes!, his most confrontational film to date, that refusal takes on a new intensity. What begins in manic, almost grotesque satire gradually reveals itself as something closer to an existential reckoning, a film less interested in persuading its audience than in exhausting it.

Catch Yes! in theaters beginning April 2nd at the Laemmle Glendale.

Set in the aftermath of October 7th, Yes! centers on Y, a pianist living in Tel Aviv with his wife and their young child. They are ambitious, affectionate, and acutely attuned to the possibilities of upward mobility. Their strategy is simple: ingratiate themselves with powerful individuals. Moving through parties, performances, and private gatherings, they attach themselves to a network of political, military, and cultural elites, saying “yes” to every opportunity, every demand, every unspoken expectation.

Lapid renders this ascent in a style that is deliberately overwhelming. The film’s early passages unfold in a rush of movement and noise: faces contort, bodies thrash, images veer toward the surreal. Satire here is neither cool nor distancing but feverish, almost desperate. Moments of comedy land uneasily, often collapsing into something more abrasive. The effect is one of constant destabilization, as though the film itself were struggling to contain its own anger.

At the center of it all is Ariel Bronz’s Y, a figure defined by his almost-superhuman capacity for acquiescence. He absorbs the rhetoric around him without question, reshaping himself to fit the expectations of those in power. His ambition—to be seen, to succeed, to matter—drives him forward, even as it erodes any stable sense of self. What Lapid tracks, with increasing severity, is not a moral awakening but the consequences of its absence. Y does not so much choose a path as slide into it, one “yes” at a time.

What distinguishes Yes! is its refusal to offer release. Lapid does not build toward catharsis, nor does he grant his characters the dignity of clear transformation. Instead, he circles a more troubling idea: that complicity is rarely dramatic, rarely declared, but incremental, shaped by small concessions that accumulate over time.

The lingering effect of Yes! is less the shock of its imagery than the persistence of its central idea. Lapid’s film doesn’t argue so much as confront, exploring what it means to live alongside catastrophe, to filter it, to rationalize it, or simply to keep moving. The answers remain unresolved, but the implication is clear enough: indifference is not a neutral position.

“You can hear the rage behind the laughter in Israeli satire Yes… [Lapid] almost seems to bait you to look away, to turn off and tune out just like his revelers, even as he inexorably pulls you in.” – Manohla Dargis, The New York Times

“A whirling, maximalist satire… Exhilaratingly of the moment and in the moment.” – Guy Lodge, Variety

“Deliriously provocative, a veritable orgy of self-loathing.” – David Ehrlich, Indiewire

Law as Labyrinth: Loznitsa’s ‘Two Prosecutors’

March 25, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

Sergei Loznitsa’s Two Prosecutors is less a historical drama than a slow descent into a meticulously ordered nightmare. Set in 1937 at the height of Stalin’s Great Purge, the film follows a young, newly promoted prosecutor, Kornyev (Aleksandr Kuznetsov), whose belief in the integrity of the Soviet legal system has not yet been eroded by experience. So when a blood-written letter alleging systemic torture and fabricated charges from a political prisoner crosses his desk, Kornyev does something both admirable and, in this world, dangerously naïve: he takes it seriously.

Catch filmmaker Sergei Loznitsa for a series of live Q&As regarding his latest work following the 7 p.m. showing at the Laemmle Glendale on March 24th or the Laemmle Royal on March 26-27th.

Kornyev’s journey begins in Bryansk, where Loznitsa immediately establishes the film’s governing logic: obstruction not through force, but through delay. Doors remain closed, officials are perpetually “unavailable,” and requests are met with polite deflection. Kornyev merely waits, wielding his patience as a bureaucratic weapon. When he finally gains access to the prisoner, Stepnyak (Aleksandr Filippenko), the encounter is shocking not only for the man’s physical deterioration but for the clarity of his accusations. A former legal mind himself, Stepnyak describes a system that has turned inward, devouring its own architects in order to sustain the illusion of order. Convinced this must be an isolated case of local corruption rather than a structural reality, Kornyev travels to Moscow to bring the case to higher authorities, placing his faith in the idea that somewhere, at the top, justice still exists.

Loznitsa, whose background in documentary filmmaking informs his rigorously controlled style, stages much of Two Prosecutors in long, static takes that deny the audience conventional emotional cues. The camera rarely moves; instead, dread accumulates within the frame. Offices, corridors, and waiting rooms become indistinguishable from prison cells, suggesting that confinement is not a matter of walls but of systems. Even moments of apparent absurdity—a talkative stranger on a train, an encounter with a man too frightened to move—carry a disquieting sense of design, as though every interaction is part of an invisible web closing around Kornyev.

Though rooted in Stalinist history and adapted from a suppressed work by dissident writer and gulag survivor Georgy Demidov, Two Prosecutors resonates far beyond its period setting. Loznitsa is not simply reconstructing the past, but mapping the anatomy of authoritarian logic, where procedure replaces morality and complicity is cultivated through cynicism and inertia.

By the time Kornyev begins to understand the true nature of the system he has appealed to, the film has already made its devastating point. This is not a story about whether justice will prevail, but about how long one can believe in it once the evidence proves otherwise.

“A very disturbing parable of the insidious micro-processes of tyranny.” – Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian

“[A] compelling, meticulous, mordantly relevant historical drama.” – Jessica Kiang, Variety

The Future Is Thinking: ‘The AI Doc’ and the Anxiety of Our Moment

March 25, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

If there’s a defining anxiety of the present moment, it may be this: We are building something we do not fully understand. The AI Doc: Or How I Became an Apocaloptimist, directed by Daniel Roher and Charlie Tyrell, begins from that uneasy premise and refuses to resolve it into something comforting. Instead, it becomes a wide-ranging, often disorienting attempt to map the emotional and intellectual terrain of artificial intelligence at a moment when even the experts can’t agree on where we’re headed.

Catch The AI Doc: Or How I Became an Apocaloptimist in theaters beginning March 27th at the Laemmle Noho 7 and Monica Film Center.

Roher, coming off his Oscar-winning Navalny, positions himself not as an authority but as a stand-in for the audience—curious, overwhelmed, and increasingly uneasy. As he and his wife prepare to welcome their first child, a looming question takes hold: What kind of world is he bringing this child into? AI, once an abstract concept, suddenly feels immediate and consequential. The film uses that tension as its narrative spine, turning a global technological shift into an intimate, almost existential dilemma.

From there, The AI Doc expands outward, assembling a striking range of voices across the AI spectrum. On one end are the so-called “doomers,” who warn that the development of artificial general intelligence (AGI) could lead to catastrophic outcomes, including the possibility—however speculative—of human extinction. Their arguments are not framed as fringe paranoia but as serious, technically grounded concerns: systems growing beyond human comprehension, incentives misaligned with human survival, and a pace of development that far outstrips our ability to comprehend (much less regulate) it.

On the other side are the optimists, those who see AI not as a threat but as a once-in-history opportunity. In their view, the same technology that inspires fear could unlock solutions to some of humanity’s most intractable problems: curing disease, transforming education, addressing climate challenges, and reducing global inequality.

What makes the film compelling is not that it chooses between these camps, but that it refuses to. Roher oscillates between perspectives, absorbing each argument only to have it unsettled by the next. The result is a kind of intellectual whiplash that mirrors the broader cultural conversation around AI: every confident claim met with an equally persuasive counterpoint. Even basic questions—what AI actually is, how it works, where it’s going, etc.—prove surprisingly difficult to answer in any definitive way.

By the closing act, the term “apocaloptimist” emerges as a kind of uneasy compromise, a recognition that AI holds both extraordinary promise and profound danger. The film doesn’t argue for a single path forward so much as it insists on the urgency of pondering the question: How do we navigate between those extremes? It’s a question that extends beyond engineers and executives to anyone living through what may one day be called the “Age of AI.”

“Director Daniel Roher makes a good-faith effort to engage with a topic whose potential impact only gets bigger the closer you look at it.” – Christian Zilko, IndieWire

“The type of documentary vital for someone who needs a streamlined explainer of the concerns and hopes around artificial intelligence.” – John Dotson, InSession Film

Anniversary Classics Presents: Revisiting the Cult Classic ‘Harold and Maude’

March 18, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

Laemmle Theatres and the Anniversary Classics Series are proud to present a tribute to the late Bud Cort with a screening of his most famous movie, the offbeat romantic comedy Harold and Maude, on Wednesday, March 25th at 7:30 p.m. at the Laemmle NoHo.

Cort first attracted attention in two films directed by Robert Altman, the Oscar-winning black comic hit M*A*S*H and the eccentric comedy Brewster McCloud. He also played one of the student protestors in The Strawberry Statement, one of a handful of movies about student rebellion produced in the early 1970s. Yet it wasn’t until he joined forces with Ruth Gordon, Oscar-winning co-star of Rosemary’s Baby, to play one of the oddest couples in movie history, that the talented young actor was launched into what would ultimately develop into a decades-long career.

Cort plays Harold, a death-obsessed young man determined to commit suicide, at least until he meets the vibrant 79-year-old Maude and gradually falls in love with her. Before their chance encounter, Harold spends his days staging elaborate fake suicides to shock his wealthy, emotionally distant mother and attending strangers’ funerals for entertainment, drifting through life with a morbid detachment that borders on performance art. Maude, by contrast, lives with mischievous spontaneity: stealing cars she fancies, rescuing trees slated for demolition, and approaching each moment with irreverent wonder. Their unlikely friendship grows (while sneakily developing into the most improbable of romances) through a series of adventures that gently dismantle Harold’s fascination with death, as Maude introduces him to the pleasures, absurdities, and quiet rebellions that make life worth living. Set against a rich backdrop of early-1970s countercultural whimsy, their relationship challenges social expectations and invites Harold (and, ultimately, the audience) to reconsider what it means to truly embrace being alive.

Written by Colin Higgins as the basis for his Master’s thesis at UCLA and directed by Hal Ashby, Harold and Maude was a critical and financial flop when it first opened in December of 1971. Major critics like Roger Ebert, and Vincent Canby of The New York Times, panned the film, and it struggled to find an audience. Pauline Kael gave it a mixed review, noting that it flaunted a bizarre concept, but granted that it had “been made with considerable wit and skill,” also noting the considerable impact it had on young viewers: “Many young moviegoers have returned to this eccentric film repeatedly (in 1974, one 22-year-old claimed to have seen it 138 times).” The venerable New York Review of Books called it “a philosophical black comedy for grandparents and grandchildren.”

It wasn’t until 1983, twelve years after its initial release, that the film finally turned a profit, and that Cort, Gordon, and the filmmakers received their long-overdue royalty checks. In the years that followed, the critics, too, gradually gave the film a second look, and in 1997 it was tagged for preservation by the National Film Registry of the Library of Congress. By 2004, Entertainment Weekly ranked it #4 on its list of the top 50 cult films of all time. Rarely has the phrase “aged like fine wine” been a more apt descriptor for a work of art.

Ashby and Higgins, for their part, also went on to much bigger successes, the former directing a number of acclaimed, Oscar-nominated films such as The Last Detail, Shampoo, Bound for Glory, Coming Home, and Being There, while the latter penned the smash-hit comedy Silver Streak, starring Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor, followed by a successful directorial run with Foul Play and 9 to 5.

With a deep and memorable cast including Vivian Pickles and the prolific Cyril Cusack, as well as an iconic soundtrack by Cat Stevens—filling in admirably for Elton John, who recommended him for the project after dropping out—Harold and Maude has plenty to offer its viewers, whether seeing it for the first… or 139th time.

Join us in remembering Bud Cort, in his most iconic role, at Harold and Maude‘s one-night-only screening at the Laemmle Noho.

Laemmle’s 2026 Oscar Contest: The Results Are In!

March 18, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

Another Academy Awards night has come and gone, which means it’s time to reveal the winners of Laemmle Theatres’ annual Oscar prediction contest!

As always, our movie-loving patrons proved remarkably prescient, though a few of this year’s categories kept everyone guessing right up until the final envelope.

1st Place: James – $100 Laemmle Gift Card

2nd Place: Joshua – $50 Laemmle Gift Card

3rd Place: Michael – $25 Laemmle Gift Card

Congratulations to our winners! We’ll be reaching out soon about your prizes.

As it turned out, our top contestants were so evenly matched that we had to rely on the tie-breaker question—guessing the total runtime of the Oscars telecast—to determine the final standings. This year’s ceremony clocked in at 235 minutes, which ultimately separated first place from the rest of the pack.

Several of the night’s biggest races also proved surprisingly divisive among Laemmle voters. Best Actor was one of the most hotly contested categories, with about half of participants predicting Timothée Chalamet for Marty Supreme. In the end, however, the Academy went (perhaps ‘chasséd’) another direction, awarding the Oscar to Michael B. Jordan for Sinners.

The Best Supporting Actor category also split voters, many of whom predicted either Sean Penn for One Battle After Another (who ultimately took home the award) or Stellan Skarsgård for Sentimental Value. Meanwhile, Best Cinematography was another toss-up among our contestants, with many selecting One Battle After Another, though the Oscar ultimately went to Autumn Durald Arkapaw for Sinners—making history as the first woman ever to win the award.

Thanks to everyone who participated in this year’s contest! Be sure to check out our fancy pie charts and breakdown of how Laemmle patrons voted across all the categories.

And of course, it’s never too early to start thinking about next year’s contenders. See you at the movies—and at next year’s Oscars contest!

Running on Empty: Compassion and Crisis in ‘Late Shift’

March 10, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

When Late Shift premiered in 2025, it quickly established itself as a gripping portrait of life inside an overburdened healthcare system. Now returning to theaters for an expanded run, Petra Volpe’s propulsive hospital drama offers audiences another chance to experience one of the year’s most quietly intense character studies.

Catch Late Shift beginning March 20th at the Laemmle Royal, Glendale, and Town Center theaters.

At the center of the film is Leonie Benesch, an actor who has developed a reputation for portraying capable professionals under extreme duress. After her acclaimed performance in The Teachers’ Lounge—which earned an Oscar nomination for Best International Feature—and memorable roles in September 5 and The Crown, Benesch once again plays a woman trying to maintain her composure in an environment that threatens to overwhelm her.

In Late Shift, she is Floria, a single mother and dedicated nurse beginning a long night in the surgical ward of a Zurich hospital. The film unfolds almost entirely over the course of one exhausting shift. From the moment Floria pulls on her blue scrubs and steps onto the floor, the pace is relentless. The ward is understaffed, one colleague has called in sick, and the list of patients requiring attention seems endless.

Volpe structures the film as a breathless procession of urgent tasks and interruptions. Floria rushes through corridors, checks charts, administers medication, and tries to keep dozens of patients calm while juggling the demands of doctors, relatives, and a nervous trainee nurse.

The film’s tension comes not from a single dramatic crisis but from the constant accumulation of small ones: An elderly man awaits test results from an overbooked doctor; a patient’s medication allergy threatens to slip through the cracks in the rush of rounds; a terminally ill woman’s worried sons demand updates that Floria scarcely has time to give. Every encounter matters, and every minute lost with one patient means someone else must wait.

Volpe captures this controlled chaos with brisk, fluid filmmaking that keeps the camera close to Floria as she moves through the hospital’s sterile corridors. The effect is immersive: viewers experience the shift as she does, racing from one urgent call to the next with barely a moment to breathe, faithfully mirroring the rhythms of hospital life, where emotional highs and lows arrive in rapid succession.

Amid this constant motion, Benesch gives a performance of remarkable control. Floria is compassionate and efficient, but the strain is always visible just beneath the surface. In small gestures—a weary pause in the hallway, a flicker of frustration when another demand arrives—Benesch reveals the human cost of a job that requires endless patience and emotional endurance.

Returning to theaters for a second go, Late Shift remains a tense, empathetic reminder of the unseen labor that keeps hospitals running, and of the quiet heroism that’s required to endure it.

“Benesch could be cornering the market in tough, competent, hardworking young women doing their best in a stressful situation.” – Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian

“Perhaps the slickest example yet of [Volpe’s] mainstream but character-oriented storytelling sensibility.” – Guy Lodge, Variety

A Summer of Echoes: ‘Miroirs No. 3’ and the Art of Starting Over

March 10, 2026 by Lamb Laemmle Leave a Comment

Christian Petzold has long been one of Europe’s most distinctive filmmakers, crafting coolly precise dramas wherein ordinary settings conceal deep emotional fault lines. In his latest film, Miroirs No. 3, a chance encounter on a quiet country road sets off a moving tale about grief, identity, and the strange ways people try to begin again.

Catch Miroirs No. 3 in theaters beginning March 20th at the Laemmle Royal, or from March 27th at the Glendale or Town Center 5.

The film opens with Laura (Paula Beer), a piano student in Berlin who seems adrift even before tragedy strikes. After reluctantly accompanying her boyfriend Jakob on a weekend trip out of the city, she asks to turn back almost as soon as they set out. What follows is sudden and violent: a car crash that leaves Jakob dead and Laura, miraculously, alive. Shaken and disoriented, she is taken in by Betty (Barbara Auer), a middle-aged woman who witnessed the accident and lives nearby in a modest rural home.

Rather than heading to a hospital, however, Laura asks if she can stay with Betty while she convalesces. The arrangement is unexpected but quietly welcomed. In the days that follow, Laura drifts into Betty’s daily routines: helping paint a fence, working in the garden, preparing meals in the kitchen. Freed from the pressures of her former life, she appears almost relieved to inhabit this temporary refuge.

Yet Petzold’s films rarely settle for simple emotional recovery, as subtle signs suggest that Betty’s generosity is tied to deeper wounds of her own. Her husband Richard (Matthias Brandt) and their son Max (Enno Trebs), who run a nearby auto repair shop, seem wary of Laura’s presence. Their unease hints at unresolved family tensions and a past loss that still reverberates through the household.

Visually, Miroirs No. 3 carries the director’s familiar elegance. Shot in natural light by Petzold’s longtime cinematographer Hans Fromm, the Brandenburg countryside becomes a place both serene and uneasy, where summer warmth never quite dispels the lingering chill of grief.

At the center of it all is Paula Beer, continuing her remarkable collaboration with Petzold. Her performance balances opacity with vulnerability, making Laura both enigmatic and deeply human. As the story unfolds, it becomes clear that Miroirs No. 3 is less about solving a mystery than about watching people tentatively reshape themselves after suffering a loss.

Quiet, thoughtful, and emotionally resonant, the film offers another example of Petzold’s penchant for uncovering profundity within the smallest moments of everyday life.

“A compact, masterful film, with affecting performances.” – Dustin Chang, Screen Anarchy

“A quietly haunting domestic drama that remains cloistered in its pastoral setting.” – Brad Hanford, Slant Magazine