TRIBECA 2026: AN ART ICON, A HOMECOMING, AND A LOVE LETTER TO A CITY

Tribeca is a few days in, which means the first wave of buzzy titles has settled and the fun part has started.

This next round-up moves through three films that all deal, in their own way, with what people carry: legacy, family, home, ambition, old hurt, unfinished business. Some land cleaner than others, but each one has something worth talking about.

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Jean-Michel

Given that Jean-Michel Basquiat is now one of modern art’s greats — rightly so — it makes sense that film keeps circling back to him. His work has been studied, collected, name-dropped, merchandised, and mythologized to death. You probably own some Basquiat swag yourself. But Jean-Michel, the new documentary from Quinn Whitney Wilson and Viridiana Lieberman, isn’t here to prove his importance. The world’s already handled that. It’s more interested in Jean-Michel as a person.

The film gives a generous entry point for anyone who knows the name more than the man: Brooklyn kid, Haitian father, Puerto Rican mother, downtown New York, SAMO, short for “Same Old Shit”, the graffiti project with Al Diaz that turned his wit and frustration loose on the city before the art world caught up. Through archival footage, photographs, voiceover, and memories from the people who knew him best—most notably his sisters, Lisane and Jeanine—Jean-Michel sketches an artist who was restless, funny, stylish, ambitious, brilliant, and always watching.

The film is especially sharp on the racism Basquiat had to keep answering to, spaces that wanted his genius but didn’t know what to do with his Blackness and critics who used coded words like crude, naive, “street,” and primitive. But the doc’s real strength is its refusal to let the icon swallow the man. Because underneath all that influence, he was still a brother, a son, a friend, a boyfriend, a reader, an anatomy and history buff, a cartoon-loving kid—just Jean.

9.5/10

The Tropic Sun and His Eyes

Elisee Junior St. Preux’s The Tropic Sun and His Eyes follows Ruben, a 26-year-old returning to Haiti to find his estranged father before time runs out. The problem is, everyone else seems to remember his father as “the Pastor”—generous, respected, the kind of man who helped people find their way. Ruben has a very different version of him in his head, and every compliment only makes the hurt more complicated.

While Ruben makes his way through Cap-Haïtien, a persistent street boy starts following him and refuses to be brushed off. Ruben agrees to let him tag along under three rules: show him the shortcut, keep some distance, and stop talking. Obviously, the boy does none of that. He talks when Ruben wants quiet, asks questions Ruben doesn't want to answer, and turns what was supposed to be a private search into a trip Ruben can longer control.

The film is really about the gap between who people are to us versus who they are to others. St. Preux also tackles the ways love can get buried under duty, reputation, and all the things men convince themselves are enough. Some of the spiritual touches can feel overly placed, but the feeling underneath still works. The Tropic Sun and His Eyes, in the end, is a tender story about old wounds, second chances, and the uncomfortable truth that healing can sometimes start before we're ready.

8/10

Airport BLVD

Alejandro Hendricks’ Airport BLVD is a jazz-infused musical set in East Austin, where Xavier is watching his world change faster than he can figure out his next move. Old cafés and restaurants close. Streets get renamed. Friends leave for other cities. And Xavier, mild-mannered and stuck somewhere between nostalgia and adulthood, has to deal with the fact that home is becoming harder to recognize.

The film looks at the personal impact of gentrification: how it effects friendship, how it can foster resentment, and the strange grief of realizing your comfort zone is disappearing.

Airport BLVD has charm, rhythm, and a clear affection for its community it’s capturing. The music gives it personality, and Xavier’s uncertainty feels honest. It’s essentially a coming-of-age story for that awkward moment when everyone else seems ready for the next chapter and you’re still trying to finish the one you’re in.

7.5/10