Megan McLachlan is in Bentonville, Arkansas to cover the 11th annual Bentonville Film Festival.
Ever since I covered the Napa Valley Film Festival in 2018, I’ve admired Geena Davis’s commitment to supporting better representation in TV and film, especially after seeing the doc This Changes Everything.
So I’m thrilled to be at the Bentonville Film Festival in Bentonville, Arkansas (which I’ve always thought of as the Geena Davis festival) chaired by Davis to promote underrepresented voices in entertainment and media. While I missed Sharronda Williams’ conversation with Al Roker earlier in the week, I was happy to jump in on Day 3 of the fest.
O Horizon Thoughtfully Glimpses Into The Near-Present of AI Relationships (With a Major Cameo from an Iconic Musician!)
In Madeleine Sackler’s O Horizon, neuroscientist Abby (the wonderful Maria Bakalova) keeps trying to give a doll to test monkey Dorey to map a response in her brain. Does she like the doll? Reject the doll? Abby does this over and over again, hoping to receive data to replicate the experience for others so that eventually, humans don’t have to feel pain or know the experience of loss. Similarly, Sackler uses Abby’s singular emotional experience, without going into the logistics and universal impact of AI, to highlight how humans might never have to experience death again.
Of course, Abby is dealing with her own loss, that of her father (David Strathairn), who passed away just months before. Set in the near future, she’s fed an ad on her phone from a company that takes all your messages, photos, and videos of a person you love and “recreates” them in AI form (basically ChatGPT on steroids). We’re never sure if Adam Pally’s Sam is the creator of the experience or simply the salesperson, but the film isn’t interested in the science of AI — just the singular emotional experience. So for those wondering what the cost of Seeking a Friend is, go to Black Mirror for that!
Maria Bakalova reminds us why we fell in love with her in Borat Subsequent Moviefilm and why she walked away with an Academy Award nomination. There’s something about her on screen that’s so warm, and Sackler lets the camera hang on her face to soak up all that emotion. She really carries this film well, and her initial conversations with her “dead” father are quite moving (even while he rattles on like so many IRL dads would!). Films like Spike Jonze’s Her always freak me out a bit for their glimpse into the future, but with O Horizon, we’re mostly there (except for the sky subway). It even features the same opening song as Materialists — Cat Power’s “Manhattan.” You can’t get more current than that!
Also, when a certain ’80s/’90s female singer songwriter shows up in the last half of the film, it’s both random and welcome.
Adult Children is a Whip-Smart Dramedy with a Great Supporting Cast
One of the things I loved about Rich Newey’s Adult Children is the way it drops you into the story and asks you to keep pace with this family’s complex web of connections. In a world of Marvel movies and repeat reenactments of how Batman’s parents died, I like the challenge screenwriter Annika Marks throws down for mature audiences as we dive into the dynamics of this dysfunctional modern family. Keep up! Which is exactly what this family would expect you to do.

Adult Children follows three “adult” kids (Betsy Brandt, Thomas Sadoski, and Aya Cash) and the week they spend with their teenage half-sister, Morgan (Ella Rubin). Josh (Sadoski) just had an overdose, so the sisters are keeping an eye on him while their mother Mimi (played by Mimi Rogers) heads off to Europe. There’s a lot of family tree branches to keep track of, but never for one second did I not believe these characters weren’t siblings. Adult Children really is a showcase for all of these wonderful character actors who’ve made careers out of their outstanding supporting work. It’s great to see them share screentime together, and they all have an easy chemistry. Betsy Brandt delivers really strong work as the eldest Lisa, who has two big secrets; Thomas Sadoski’s forlorn Josh captures addiction in all its frustration; and Aya Cash’s Dahlia has a scene as a nude model that will make you gasp. Ella Rubin also beautifully captures the disconnect between being the youngest child, with more than a decade between her and her eldest siblings.
This universe and characters are so strong in Adult Children, that I wonder what it would look like as a TV series. I’m anxious to learn what happens to these characters after the credits roll.
Bentonville Turns Out with Enthusiasm for Cassie Keet’s Abigail Before Beatrice, Shot in Arkansas
I had the chance to moderate the screening of Cassie Keet’s Abigail Before Beatrice, a three-act film that introduces Beatrice (Olivia Taylor Dudley) after she gets out of a cult led by Grayson (Shayn Herndon) and culminates with how she got into the cult in the first place.

“I used to be a huge fan of true crime and then the pandemic hit,” said Keet, “and I was like, the world is fucked. I don’t think I can listen to this anymore. But I’m fascinated by cults. There’s something very interesting about them. There’s a disconnect and callousness about cults, with people making jokes about them.”
The gritty drama features a great performance from Taylor Dudley, and it was interesting to listen to the scrappy way this film came together — celebrating the beauty of independent film.
The enthusiasm from the audience was palpable, not just in reaction to the film, but also because of its close connections to the region since it was shot in Arkansas. Although actor/intimacy coordinator Jordan Lane Shappell faced some challenges with the environment.
“The scenes by the fire for the ceremony were rough because there were bugs everywhere,” laughed Shappell. “We were using a lot of bug spray. But it felt like we were in a place. When you’re on a set, it doesn’t feel like you’re part of the character. Shooting in Arkansas made it feel like we were in somewhere very specific, and I think you could feel that.”
The Bentonville Film Festival Continues through June 22.