TRIBECA SO FAR: A MUSIC DOC, SOME CAMPUS CHAOS, AND WRITERS BEHAVING BADLY

Tribeca is officially underway, and its 25th anniversary edition is already off to a strong start. After a few days of screenings and festival sprinting, here are my reviews from Tribeca so far.

Opening Night

Tribeca’s 25th anniversary edition kicked off Wednesday night with the world premiere of Questlove’s Earth, Wind & Fire (To Be Celestial VS That’s the Weight of the World), and honestly, it was exactly the kind of start a milestone year calls for. Big music. Big feelings. A legendary band. A packed Beacon Theatre. And after the screening, Earth, Wind & Fire kept the celebration going with a short but lively set, joined by The Roots’ drummer Questlove.

It was a TIME!

As a tone-setter, it absolutely worked. Tribeca's always made room for the overlap between film, music, and cultural memory, and this was a clear reminder of why that overlap still hits.

Earth, Wind & Fire (To Be Celestial VS That’s the Weight of the World)

In Earth, Wind & Fire (To Be Celestial VS That’s the Weight of the World), Questlove approaches the legendary band like a spiritual archive. The documentary traces the group’s rise through the vision of founder Maurice White, whose ambition stretched far beyond making hits. He was building a world out of jazz, soul, R&B, funk, disco, choreography, mysticism, and light. And the result is a film that understands Earth, Wind & Fire as both a band and a philosophy.

The archival footage is easily the film’s strongest weapon. Questlove uses it to remind us that Earth, Wind & Fire weren't run of the mill singers performing songs; they were staging entire cosmic experiences. The horns, the costumes, the choreography, the pyrotechnics, the sheer scale of it all — it makes clear how deeply intentional (and infectious) their joy was. And still is.

If there is a limitation, it's that the documentary’s focus leans so heavily toward White that the rest of the band can sometimes feel like they're orbiting him rather than fully sharing the center. But that focus also gives the film its emotional tension. White’s dream was beautiful, demanding, and costly, and Questlove is smart enough to give it the reverence it deserves. (The man's kind of a genius) And the doc's the push and pull between celestial aspiration and worldly weight becomes the film’s clearest truth.

9.5/10

Kingston

Set at the fictional elite Kingston College, Kingston uses academia as both backdrop and battleground, following students and faculty as class anxiety, social performance, institutional power, and campus tribalism collide. It's funny, sharp, uncomfortable, and occasionally a little too accurate about how quickly elite spaces can turn language into armor.

At the center is a first-generation student (played by Rose Badiru) trying to find her footing in a place that keeps insisting she belongs while constantly reminding her of the cost. Through her, Kingston gets at the exhausting performance of belonging: the code-switching, the constant self-monitoring, the quiet rage of being told you earned your place while the institution keeps reminding you it was never really built with you in mind. Around her, other characters use academic language, identity politics, and social awareness as both shields and weapons, which makes the film feel messy in a way that works.

It's not a perfectly tidy film, but that almost feels like part of the point. Some storylines are stronger than others, but Kingston still feels alive because it understands how elite spaces can speak fluently about justice while still protecting privilege, how students can be both harmed by systems and fluent in replicating them, and how a campus can sell itself as a dream while quietly turning everyone inside it into combatants.

7.5/10

The Revisionist

Alex Vlack’s The Revisionist is about a writer behaving badly, which is always a fun because writers love to pretend we're simply “observing” when really we're collecting everybody’s business for later.

Alison Brie stars as Elise Keller, a successful novelist stuck on her next book, while André Holland plays John, an old friend whose return gives her a new opportunity to blur the line between real life and material. Before long, conversations turn into research, relationships become plot points, and the people around her increasingly become raw material for the story she's desperate to finish.

There's a sharp idea here about artistic entitlement: what artists take, what they justify, and who gets turned into inspiration without consent. The Revisionist has the sleek, uneasy feel of a chamber drama where everyone is being too polite while something uglier builds underneath. Holland brings a groundedness that helps cut through some of the film’s more writerly instincts, especially when the story starts poking at the difference between telling the truth and using the truth because it makes better fiction.

8/10

More reviews coming soon!