The 10 Best Films from Tribeca 2026
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Earlier this month, the Tribeca Festival celebrated its 25th anniversary in lower Manhattan, bringing over 100 feature films and short film programs to multiple venues. For those attending this year, the selection felt much quieter in comparison to previous iterations as very few premieres made a splash beyond the downtown crowds. At the awards ceremony, the juries for each competition category provided inspired choices with their winners, choosing Cotton Fever, Labrador - Autopsy of Silence, and Jail Time Records as the top U.S. Narrative, International Narrative, and Documentary features, respectively.
Even with the highest ambitions, I was only able to catch 26 films across the festival’s 12-day run, often leaving theaters feeling exhausted by half-baked narratives that could have been great with some fine-tuning and better direction. However, a handful of films stood out from the bunch that definitely warrant wider audiences. From documentaries to narrative features, here are the top 10 films that left an impression on me from this year’s festival.
10. Mineshaft: The Cruising Murders
Much has been written about William Friedkin’s divisive crime thriller, Cruising (1980), but little attention has been paid to the true story that inspired Friedkin to make the film. In Josh Greenbaum’s revelatory documentary, he focuses on how the murder of a gay film critic, Addison Verrill, unlocked a shocking connection to one cast member in Friedkin’s The Exorcist (1973). As we learn that the former background actor from the seminal horror film killed Verrill during a BDSM encounter, Greenbaum utilizes this tragedy as the focal point for a broader dissection of how gay male sexuality and the leather bar scene were represented by Friedkin in Cruising. While connecting the dots between Verrill’s death, filmmaking ethics, and gay rights activism in late-1970s New York, Greenbaum crafts an informative portrait of what happens when commercial artists forgo input from the communities they seek to exploit.
9. The Last Day
In the second adaptation of Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway to premiere on the festival circuit this year, Rachel Rose’s The Last Day stands as a gorgeously shot, understated meditation on contemporary motherhood and the mundane routines imposed on middle-class women. Alicia Vikander plays Julia, a dormant writer who now spends her days driving her daughter into Manhattan for doctor appointments and planning summer parties at her upstate mansion. As the film unfolds over a single day in her life, Julia’s past collides with her present as she reconnects with a lost love, meets with her former editor, and crosses paths with a young mother of three experiencing severe postpartum symptoms (heartbreakingly portrayed by Victoria Pedretti). Although Rose’s version of this familiar tale does not stray far from the text, it does update its slice-of-life nature to illustrate how little has changed in the way domestic spaces and gender roles function.
8. Act One
Sophia Takal has had a multifaceted career as a director thus far, alternating between film and television projects that span genre and scope. With Act One, Takal delivers a genuinely provocative psychosexual thriller that injected a shot of adrenaline to this year’s festival. Starring Ella Beatty as an aspiring actress on the brink of adulthood, this melodrama slowly builds the obsessive relationship between Hannah (Beatty) and her acting conservatory teacher, Melanie (Ari Graynor), incorporating a John Carpenter-esque score and rich cinematography that disguises the film as a horror movie. Across Melanie’s workshops, Hannah finds herself shedding her insecurities and embracing the artistic spirit kicking inside her, but a dysfunctional home life and dwindling grades threaten to rip her from Melanie’s mentorship. Although the vitriolic teacher/student relationship trope has been beaten to death in contemporary cinema, Takal co-opts this device to pose taboo explorations of adolescent sexuality and privatized art instruction. The film’s final shot asserts its cleverness, even if a longer runtime could securely tie some loose ends.
7. The Siege of Paradise
What does vacationing look like in a post-COVID world? For some European destinations, such as Cinque Terre on the Italian Riviera, it looks like hell. In Gar O’Rourke’s playful documentary, he sets his sights on this charming paradise and examines the tension between the booming tourism interest in the coastal town and the locals desperately trying to preserve their cultural traditions. Alternating between economic, historical, and political aspects of this crisis, O’Rourke constructs a well-rounded mosaic of the stakeholders in Cinque Terre while also pointing to how this issue poses a warning to other increasingly popular tourist spots. The sweeping shots of Cinque Terre and Italian music intercut between the documentary’s subjects ties the piece together and—for better or for worse—tempts you to look at ferries and flights for yourself.
6. Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass
This is not David Wain’s first rodeo in the sex comedy arena, but Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass definitely showcases his humor firing on all cylinders. Whereas Wet Hot American Summer operated as a true summer camp for established comedians, this film grants acting newcomers and veterans a chance to be as stupid and uninhibited as they can be. At this point, I’m convinced that Zoey Deutch can nail any genre or tone that is asked of her, and Miles Gutierrez-Riley serves as the perfect foil as her best friend and coworker. Considering that the film’s premise revolves around Gail (Deutch) using her celebrity sex pass to hook up with John Hamm, you do spend much of the film pondering the big question: Will John Hamm actually show up? I’ll let you find out for yourself, but the real thrills involve other A-listers popping up to help Gail reach her holy grail. Gail Daughtry will slowly grow into its purpose as a stoner movie or pleasant surprise when you’re scrolling on Netflix, but until then, I urge you to gather some friends for some light fun at the cineplex.
5. Time Warp
The queer community has embraced The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) as essential viewing since its release, but what does the film’s impact look like in 2026? Allison Berg provides a touching picture of the film’s legacy by following a local theater company in Rock Springs, Wyoming, as they prepare to stage a shadow cast production in 2022. Led by the inspiring Kenny Starling, the company endures numerous setbacks as their conservative town catches wind of the show, including a shocking city hall meeting that captures the exact kind of bigotry plaguing pockets of the United States. As small as this community may be, its proudly queer teenagers and adults at the heart of this documentary demonstrate that artistic performance can amplify joy that drowns out any dissenting voices. Clocking in at almost two hours, the documentary never drags as you feel like you are part of this chosen family by the end. Time Warp reminds us of who we have always been, what battles we are facing now, and where we need to go to continue our fight for LGBTQ+ rights.
4. Sad Girlz
Fernanda Tovar’s devastating debut about two friends navigating the fallout from a traumatic experience still rings loudly in my head since its premiere. After something happens to Paula (Darana Álvarez) at a house party, La Maestra (Rocío Guzmán) oscillates between rage and heartbreak over the incident, often struggling to comfort Paula because of her impulse to avenge her friend. Tovar taps into a very specific Gen Z aesthetic where teens just want to put butterfly clips in their hair and take silly photos with their friends; unfortunately, men’s proclivity for violence still haunts this generation and shatters that wholesome fantasy. Álvarez and Guzmán give star-turning performances as they feed off each other’s emotional range, and their dedication to each other throughout the film only breaks your heart more as they desperately seek justice for what has transpired. The kids might not be alright, but Tovar’s film proves that they are more resilient than ever.
3. Something You Should Know About Me
At film festivals, it can sometimes feel like all you are watching are distressing documentaries and joyless dramas, so Andy Fidoten’s romantic comedy was a much-needed movie in this year’s programming. Centered around the endlessly nervous Al, the film follows him as he slogs through an unfulfilling day job that holds him back from his real passion to be a cartoonist. When his best friend reaches out about going to an artist retreat for cartoonists, he takes him up on the offer and spends the next weekend bouncing between his unspoken love for his friend and newfound desire for the bombshell also in attendance. Something You Should Know About Me is unapologetically trans-forward in its casting, characters, and narrative, and it is such a refreshing addition to the queer cinema and comedy canon alike. The jokes are abundant and the romantic sensibilities are definitely there, but the film really shines when Fidoten highlights Al’s interiority and insecurities as a trans man dating other trans men. I haven’t seen a film tackle trans sexuality as entertaining and earnest as this, and the animation sequences sprinkled throughout compliment the earned raunchiness. You absolutely should know about Something You Should Know About Me.
2. Here I’m Alive
Receiving a Special Jury Mention for Best U.S. Narrative Feature, Joshua Z Weinstein’s New York-centric indie takes a kaleidoscopic view of one night in the city for a handful of residents. Ranging from working-class individuals to those aspiring for internet fame, the film peels back layers of the digital landscape dominating modern life, expertly showcasing the hyperspecific ways we rely on the internet to get us through the day. Every character in the film yearns for something more: connection, followers, money, plastic surgery, etc. Yet, any superficial desires feel incredibly real and urgent as Weinstein positions each character’s wants as necessary to survival. Casting non-actors in these roles contributes to the authenticity here, but I wouldn’t have known these were amateur performers at all. The attitudes, physicalities, and vernacular are so New York that it transports you to any borough across the city, and under the cover of night, it reiterates why this is the city that never sleeps. Comparisons to Sean Baker and the Safdies are apt, but Weinstein’s vision here is much more raw and nuanced than his predecessors. With Here I’m Alive, Weinstein asserts that reality is both stranger than fiction and far more entertaining.
1. The Tropic Sun and His Eyes
Another recipient of a Special Jury Mention, this time for Best New Narrative Director, Elisee Junior St. Preux has a marvel on his hands with The Tropic Sun and His Eyes. Opening with a breathtaking shot of a Haitian beach, the film dazzles as we meet Ruben (Stevenson Jean) and accompany him on his homecoming to visit his estranged father. Along his journey, a local kid (Blangue Machiny) attaches himself to Ruben, and the two mimic a father-son relationship that neither ever had. Underneath the stunning cinematography, a melancholic tone permeates the surface that keeps us in Ruben’s anxiety over reuniting with his family. Jean and Machiny’s performances will grip you and never let go, with every dramatic turn sinking you deeper and deeper into their makeshift kinship. Towards the end, many of the film’s themes come to a head as Ruben’s guilt over leaving Haiti materializes, but he never waives from his truth that he had to leave to fulfill his life. The Tropic Sun and His Eyes sheds light on the unique, generational traumas that Black men carry with them beyond the family unit, and it also supplies a path towards healing from such burdens. We may often feel like we are on an island of one, but this film affirms that we are stronger when we dive headfirst into the people holding us back. After we release those troubles, we are free to rest in the sun, letting the rays wash over us like the Pacific waves crashing nearby.