EIFF: Concessions (Competition) by Pascal Cicchetti.

As with all good things, the Royal Alamo Cinema is nearing its end. Situated on a suburban street north of New York City, this historic movie theatre is about to close permanently. On its final day, the owner, Luke Plimpton, struggles with the closure of the establishment he inherited from his father. Luke's employees—Hunter, Lorenzo, and Deanna—also ponder, debate, and sometimes argue about whether their time at the Alamo held any real significance. Outside, a TV reporter eager for a story interviews passers-by, while a group of incongruous hippies sell CDs and organize a boycott. Meanwhile, moviegoers continue to arrive, eager to catch the last films at the Alamo, seemingly unaware of the minor existential crises unfolding around them.

Mas Bouzidi’s debut feature has much to recommend: from its stunning 16mm cinematography to the distinctly postmodern irony of its many one-liners. While it undoubtedly exists in the shadow of Tsai Ming-liang’s Goodbye Dragon Inn, the film is more light-hearted in tone, with a Slackers-like quality in its articulate dialogues. Beneath the wit lies an undeniable melancholy, reminiscent of both Tsai and the Ross brothers’ Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets: films imbued with a sense of finality, capturing places—and people—trapped in a moment just before it vanishes. The inclusion of Michael Madsen in the cast of Concessions, in what would be his final performance before his death earlier in July, adds a poignant layer of melancholy to the film.

However, Bouzidi is only 23 years old; the film draws from the director’s own experiences working in NYC cinemas during his formative years, and it’s as much about choosing one’s future as it is about looking back fondly. Naturally, it’s also about cinema. This is perhaps where it finds its most intriguing tension. The narrative explores a common theme as characters grapple with paths set by others: quietly questioning the authenticity of their choices (Luke and his father’s legacy, Lorenzo and his career as a college athlete), or avoiding making a choice altogether. Ultimately, the answer lies in recognizing the value of cinema, both as a community and as a limitless tool for self-reinvention.

Despite this, one cannot ignore a certain historical inconsistency. The film is ostensibly set in the present, yet everything and everyone appears to belong to the late 1970s. Moreover, its cinephile references seem consistently outdated: Linklater, Tarantino, Demy, even explicit nods to Sally Potter. While there’s nothing wrong with diverging from generational tastes, a debut film often serves as a manifesto: Concessions seems like it could have been made by a millennial fifteen years ago, raising the legitimate question of its anachronism.

At EIFF, the reception was mixed, with critics unimpressed by the lack of fresh ideas. Yet, I wonder if the film’s anachronistic references should be viewed as an attempt to progress by looking back: bypassing the generational stalemate of the Internet age to resume where the Noughties left off: the stylistic innovations of 1990s postmodernism and the collective legacies of the counterculture movement. This would make Concessions a bold rejection of the past fifteen years, rather than a nostalgic escape into a beloved collective past.

In any case, the film is genuinely heartfelt, memorable, and beautifully shot; it demonstrates a remarkable control of narrative structure and an almost miraculous ability to balance oddball sincerity with sentimental emotion. That’s more than can be said for most debuts. Hat-tip.