Sundance Film Festival has kicked off, but this year’s opener, Carousel, feels more like a missed opportunity than a triumphant start. It’s a film that promises emotional depth but leaves us wandering in a static romance drama, despite the talents of Chris Pine and Jenny Slate. With the festival already grappling with the loss of its founder, Robert Redford, and its move from Park City, Carousel struggles to make a lasting impression—a disappointment given its place in the lineup.
This is the kind of small, character-driven indie film that has been Sundance’s heartbeat for nearly 50 years. Yet, in an era where such films often get lost in the shuffle, Carousel feels like another casualty. Take, for instance, 2023’s A Little Prayer, a quiet gem that premiered at Sundance but barely made a ripple upon its delayed release. Carousel seems destined for a similar fate, and it’s hard to rally much enthusiasm for it, even though I’d love to see this subgenre thrive as it did in the 90s and 2000s.
Writer-director Rachel Lambert clearly aims to enchant, filling her film with lush music (though occasionally overbearing due to uneven sound mixing) and dreamy shots of nature. Her efforts pay off in moments, reminiscent of her previous work, Sometimes I Think About Dying, which captured the allure of small-town life. But here’s where it gets controversial: while Lambert’s direction is visually and aurally impressive, her script feels underdeveloped and erratic, failing to engage as deeply as it intends.
Chris Pine and Jenny Slate do their best to breathe life into the story. Pine, who’s been gravitating toward smaller, more introspective roles, delivers a compelling performance as a middle-aged doctor grappling with emotional limitations. His daughter’s struggles with anger and anxiety, his failing medical practice, and the reappearance of a long-lost love (Slate) all set the stage for a Sundance staple. But Lambert’s storytelling falters, jumping between moments without giving us enough to hold onto. She confuses subtlety with underwritten characters, leaving us with a script that feels incomplete.
The film’s climax—a heated argument between Pine and Slate—is intensely performed but oddly detached. We’re left observing like bystanders at a restaurant, captivated by the emotion but unclear on its significance. It’s as if the film is a condensed miniseries, with crucial scenes and character development left on the cutting room floor. Despite Pine and Slate’s undeniable chemistry, we’re never fully invested in their story.
And this is the part most people miss: Carousel touches on intriguing themes—the complexities of parenting, the tension between youthful romance and mature adulthood—but fails to explore them in a satisfying way. Its over-the-top romantic ending falls flat, leaving us unmoved. Like many forgettable Sundance films, Carousel spins in circles but never finds its direction.
Is Carousel a victim of Sundance’s evolving identity, or does it simply fall short as a film? What do you think? Let’s discuss in the comments—I’d love to hear your take on whether this film deserves a second chance or if it’s just another forgotten carousel ride.
