Desire, Daftness, and Documentaries: Unpacking the Best of Sundance 2022
Introduction: The Festival That Couldn’t Be Stopped
In the chilly, usually bustling mountain air of Park City, Utah, January usually signifies a migration. It is the time when the film industry dons its puffer jackets, navigates icy sidewalks, and huddles into darkened theaters to witness the birth of the year’s most important independent cinema. But January 2022 was different. The Omicron variant was sweeping the globe, and for the second year in a row, the Sundance Film Festival was forced to retreat from the mountains into the digital realm.
Yet, if the atmosphere was lacking the physical frisson of in-person Q&As and the frenetic energy of Main Street, the films themselves lost none of their heat. In fact, the digital pivot seemed to sharpen the focus on the stories being told. Stripped of the celebrity gossip that usually dominates the festival circuit, audiences were left with the raw power of the cinema. The 2022 lineup proved to be a testament to resilience, a vibrant tapestry of human experience that ranged from the intimately provocative to the absurdly comedic.
The slate was diverse, daring, and often surprising. It gave us a masterclass in redefining the romantic drama, turning the potentially tired trope of the age-gap romance into a profound meditation on female desire. It gave us a do-it-yourself aesthetic in a story about a lonely Welsh inventor and his robot. It introduced us to terrifying new horrors and heartbreaking documentaries. As the festival concluded, a narrative emerged: indie cinema is not just surviving the pandemic era; it is evolving, finding new ways to explore connection in an increasingly disconnected world.
In this deep dive, we will traverse the landscape of Sundance 2022, analyzing the films that defined the conversation, starting with two polar opposites that captured hearts: a boundary-pushing romance and a delightfully bizarre comedy about a robot.
Part I: The Age-Gap Renaissance – “Good Luck to You, Leo Grande”
If one film at Sundance 2022 seemed destined to spark intense debate, it was Sophie Hyde’s Good Luck to You, Leo Grande. The elevator pitch sounds like the setup for a cliché: an older woman hires a younger sex worker. In lesser hands, this could have been a farce or a melodrama. Instead, it became one of the most talked-about films of the festival, a masterclass in character study and a subversion of the “age-gap romance” trope that usually dominates the tabloids.
The premise is deceptively simple. Nancy Stokes (Emma Thompson), a retired schoolteacher and recent widow, has never had an orgasm. Her marriage was functional and loving but sexually uninspiring. In an act of desperate bravery, she hires Leo Grande (Daryl McCormack), a handsome sex worker in his twenties, to fulfill a checklist of sexual experiences she has missed out on. The film takes place almost entirely in a hotel room, a chamber-piece structure that demands immense acting chops and a script that sings.
What makes Leo Grande essential viewing is its refusal to judge. The age gap here is not a punchline; it is the central tension that reveals the characters’ vulnerabilities. Hollywood has a long, checkered history with age gaps. We are accustomed to seeing older men paired with younger women, often with little comment. When the genders are flipped, the narrative usually leans into the comedic (think Harold and Maude) or the predatory.
Hyde’s film navigates this minefield by centering the perspective of the older woman. It forces the audience to confront their own ageist biases regarding female sexuality. Nancy is filled with shame—not just about her body, but about her desire. She has lived a life of “appropriate” behavior, and her engagement with Leo is her rebellion against a lifetime of repression.
Emma Thompson delivers a career-defining performance. We watch Nancy cycle through anxiety, judgment, excitement, and shame in rapid succession. Her nervousness is palpable. She treats Leo like a test to be passed, then a riddle to be solved. The “age-gap” dynamic is handled with refreshing candor. Leo is not a boy toy; he is a professional with boundaries, a personal philosophy, and his own quiet loneliness. Daryl McCormack matches Thompson beat for beat, offering a portrayal of male sex work that is empathetic but never romanticized into a fairy tale.
The brilliance of the film lies in how it deconstructs the power dynamic. Initially, the audience might fear a power imbalance—Nancy has the money; Leo has the youth. But the film subtly shifts the power. Leo holds the emotional intelligence and the sexual confidence, while Nancy is the novice, the one exposing her vulnerabilities.
The climax of the film—no pun intended—isn’t the physical act of sex, but Nancy’s confrontation with her own reflection. The final scene, involving a mirror and full-frontal nudity, is one of the most powerful images of the festival. It is a moment of radical self-acceptance. The age gap ceases to matter; what remains is the human need to be seen, touched, and validated.
Good Luck to You, Leo Grande sets a high bar for how we discuss age-gap romances. It moves the conversation away from scandal and toward empathy. It asks: why do we deny older women their agency? Why do we fear their desires? By confining the action to one room, the film expands the universe of its characters, proving that you don’t need a sprawling narrative to tell a massive story.
Part II: The DIY Soul of the Welsh Robot – “Brian and Charles”
From the intimate confines of a British hotel room, we travel to the even more confined, but far quirkier, setting of rural Wales for Brian and Charles. If Leo Grande was the festival’s sophisticated elder statesman, Brian and Charles was its eccentric, lovable cousin wearing a jumper knitted by their nan.
Directed by Jim Archer and based on a sketch show by David Earl and Chris Hayward, this mockumentary is a distinct flavor of British humor: dry, deadpan, and imbued with a pathos that catches you off guard. The plot concerns Brian (David Earl), a lonely, hapless inventor in a Welsh village who builds a robot out of a washing machine, a mannequin head, and various scraps of junk. The robot, Charles (Chris Hayward), comes to life. He is seven feet tall, obsessed with cabbages, and learns English from a dictionary.
On paper, Brian and Charles sounds like a sketch that should be five minutes long. The genius of the film is that it commits fully to the bit, stretching the premise into a feature-length exploration of loneliness, friendship, and the fear of the unknown.
The aesthetic is strictly DIY. The robot suit looks clunky and cheap, but that is precisely the point. In an era of cinema dominated by CGI spectacles and multibillion-dollar franchises, Brian and Charles is a rallying cry for practical effects and imagination. The fact that you can see the seams of the robot costume invites the audience into the joke. We are co-conspirators in Brian’s world.
The film operates as a mockumentary, a la The Office, but with a gentler heart. Brian is a classic sad clown. His inventions are terrible—a walking egg, a flying kite that doesn’t fly. But his motivation is pure. He builds to fill the silence of his cottage. When Charles arrives, the dynamic shifts from man-vs-world to a buddy comedy. Charles is not a terrifying AI like Skynet; he is essentially a toddler in a metal body. He asks innocent but pointed questions. “Why are we here?” he asks, and Brian replies with a mundane answer about inventing.
The “Welsh Robot” premise serves as a metaphor for outsider art. Brian is an outsider, ignored by his community, bullied by the local lout, Eddie. Creating Charles is his way of creating a friend who understands him. The film touches on the fear of technology, but flips the script. Usually, we fear robots will kill us. Here, the fear is that the robot will leave us—will outgrow us.
The setting is crucial. The rainy, rolling hills of Wales provide a stark, grey backdrop that makes the absurdity of Charles pop. The film uses its location to ground the surreal elements. The interactions with the local townsfolk—particularly the terrified reactions to Charles—provide some of the biggest laughs. It is a very specific British humor: the refusal to acknowledge the impossible. A giant robot walks into the pub? The locals barely bat an eyelid; they just ask him to move aside.
But like Leo Grande, Brian and Charles has a throbbing emotional heart. The relationship between man and machine becomes genuinely touching. Brian is terrified of losing Charles to the wider world, mirroring a parent’s fear of an empty nest. The film culminates in a road trip of sorts, a flight from danger that tests the bond between creator and creation. It is a film that celebrates the weirdo, the dreamer, and the tinkerer. It proved to be a breakout hit at Sundance because it offered something rare: a comedy that doesn’t rely on cynicism.
Part III: The Breakout Dramas – Millennial Malaise and Beyond
While the age-gap romance and the Welsh robot provided distinct flavors, Sundance 2022 was also defined by its heavy hitters in the dramatic category. These were films that grappled with the messy reality of modern life, specifically the anxieties of the millennial generation.
“Cha Cha Real Smooth” Cooper Raiff’s Cha Cha Real Smooth was the festival’s crowd-pleaser, winning the U.S. Dramatic Audience Award. It is a film that feels like a spiritual successor to the indie dramedies of the 2010s, but with a sharper, more melancholic edge.
Raiff writes, directs, and stars as Andrew, a recent college graduate working as a bar mitzvah party starter while living with his mother. He forms a bond with Domino (Dakota Johnson), an older woman, and her autistic daughter, Lola (Vanessa Burghardt).
This film acts as an interesting companion piece to Leo Grande. It also deals with an age-gap dynamic, but one that is more ambiguous and less transactional. The chemistry between Raiff and Johnson is electric, but the film wisely avoids the easy romance tropes. It explores the “pause” of early adulthood—the feeling of being stuck while everyone else moves forward.
What makes Cha Cha Real Smooth special is its specificity. It captures the unique energy of a bar mitzvah party—the awkwardness, the hype, the juxtaposition of childhood and looming adulthood. But it is also a film about the caretaker economy. Andrew is a caretaker for his mother, for Lola, and eventually, he realizes, for Domino. It asks poignant questions about who is allowed to need help, and who is forced to give it.
“To Leslie” While Cha Cha was the crowd-pleaser, To Leslie was the gut-punch. Andrea Riseborough delivers a towering performance as Leslie, a West Texas woman who squanders a lottery win on alcohol and drugs, leaving her estranged from her son and everyone who ever loved her.
This is a film about the cyclical nature of addiction and poverty. It is unflinching in its portrayal of the “town drunk” archetype, but Riseborough humanizes Leslie without asking the audience to forgive her. It’s a gritty, handheld journey through the bottom of the barrel. The film’s tension comes from the fear that Leslie will drag her son down with her. It is a masterclass in acting, proving that Sundance remains the premier venue for performances that demand to be seen.
“The Inspection” In a completely different register, Elegance Bratton’s The Inspection brought the house down. Based on Bratton’s own life, it follows Ellis French (Jeremy Pope), a gay Black man who joins the Marine Corps during “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” after being rejected by his mother (Gabrielle Union).
The film is visually striking, contrasting the fluidity of Ellis’s identity with the rigid, violent conformity of the Marines. It is a story of survival and self-actualization. The “inspection” of the title works on multiple levels—the military’s inspection of his uniform and body, and his own inspection of his worth. It is a powerful addition to the canon of war films, but one that centers a queer Black perspective, a voice too often silenced in that genre.
Part IV: The Horror of Modern Dating – “Fresh” and “Resurrection”
Sundance is not just about drama; it has become a launching pad for high-concept horror. 2022 saw a trend of horror films targeting the anxieties of modern romance, effectively continuing the conversation started by the romantic dramas but twisting it into nightmare fuel.
“Fresh” Mimi Cave’s Fresh opens like a standard rom-com. Sebastian Stan plays Steve, a charming doctor who meets the frustrated dater Noa (Daisy Edgar-Jones) in a grocery store. They flirt, they go on dates, and he seems perfect. Then, the film pulls the rug out.
Fresh is a cannibal movie. But it uses the cannibalism metaphor to skewer modern dating culture. Steve is the ultimate toxic boyfriend. He objectifies women—literally. The film is a critique of the commodification of the female body and the danger women face in a world where they are conditioned to “give men a chance.”
The tonal shift halfway through the film is jarring but effective. It transforms from a pastel-colored romance into a claustrophobic thriller. It’s a film that makes you scream at the screen, reacting to the stupidity of the characters in the first half and rooting for their survival in the second. It was one of the most talked-about Midnight selections, proving that horror can be a vessel for sharp social commentary.
“Resurrection” If Fresh is the fun horror of the festival, Resurrection is the deeply unsettling psychological horror. Rebecca Hall plays Margaret, a successful professional with a dark past that catches up with her in the form of David (Tim Roth), a manipulative figure from her history.
The film deals with the lasting trauma of abusive relationships. Roth plays a villain of almost supernatural creepiness, a man who weaponizes his voice and presence. The film builds to a climax that involves a bizarre, body-horror revelation. It is divisive—some loved the surreal ending, others hated it—but it is impossible to ignore. It speaks to the way past traumas can consume us, quite literally, if we do not confront them.
Part V: The Documentary Powerhouses – Truth Stranger Than Fiction
Documentaries have always been a Sundance stronghold, and 2022 offered a slate that felt more urgent than ever. The themes of isolation, manipulation, and survival ran through these non-fiction narratives just as they did through the scripted features.
“Navalny” The Grand Jury Prize winner for U.S. Documentary, Navalny, plays like a geopolitical thriller. Director Daniel Roher gained unprecedented access to Russian opposition leader Alexei Navalny during his recovery from a poisoning attempt and his eventual return to Russia.
The film is a masterclass in investigative journalism. We watch as Navalny and his team use open-source intelligence to track down the FSB agents who poisoned him. There is a moment where Navalny actually calls one of the assassins and tricks him into confessing. It is a scene that feels written for a James Bond movie, yet it is terrifyingly real.
But the film’s power lies in the looming tragedy. We know what happens: Navalny is arrested and imprisoned. The film serves as a testament to his courage and a chilling warning about the nature of authoritarianism. It is a film about a man fighting a system designed to erase him, knowing that the act of fighting might cost him his life.
“Fire of Love” In contrast to the political fire of Navalny, Sara Dosa’s Fire of Love is a story of romantic and scientific obsession. It tells the story of Katia and Maurice Krafft, French volcanologists who died in a 1991 eruption.
The film is constructed almost entirely from the couple’s own archival footage. It is visually stunning, a kaleidoscope of lava flows, volcanic craters, and the couple in their signature silver protective suits. But it is also a love story. The narration (by Miranda July) suggests that the couple’s true love was perhaps the volcanoes themselves, and they merely found a partner who shared that love. It is a beautiful, melancholic meditation on the drive to understand the planet, even if it kills you.
“All That Breathes” Another stunning doc, All That Breathes, follows two brothers in New Delhi who run a bird hospital, rescuing black kites that fall from the smog-choked sky. It is a film about the ecosystem of a city on the brink of collapse. The relationship between the brothers is tender, but the backdrop is apocalyptic. It highlights the intersection of environmental collapse and political unrest, creating a sensory experience that lingers long after the credits roll.
