Telluride Dispatch #1: ‘La Grazia,’ ‘Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere,’ ‘Ballad of a Small Player’
The 52nd Telluride Film Festival began yesterday, August 29, and my ninth journey to this cinematic mecca started with a drive that felt like plunging into a painting. With my AwardsWatch crew—Erik, Sophia, Christina, and Ryan—crammed into the car, we wound through Colorado’s San Juan Mountains, where the landscape erupted in vivid hues. Golden-yellow aspen groves shimmered against emerald-green fields, their edges blurring into the deep evergreen of towering pines. Above, the red-grey crags of the peaks glowed under the late summer sun, their rugged faces streaked with slate and rust. Every curve of the road revealed a new burst of color, as if nature itself was rolling out the red carpet for this four-day pilgrimage. Stepping out into Telluride’s thin, cool mountain air, the intensity of that beauty lingered, grounding us in a place that feels both serene and alive with possibility.
The festival’s whirlwind—running just August 29 to September 1—swept us up with its signature blend of intimate screenings, buzzing parties, and chance encounters that turn strangers into fast friends. Telluride is a haven where film lovers breathe the same rarefied air, and with Erik, Sophia, Christina, and Ryan by my side, we dove headfirst into the communal spirit. We traded hot takes with FilmTwitter regulars in line at the Werner Herzog Theatre, savored the village’s culinary gems (Thursday night’s steak at the New Sheridan Chop House was a masterclass in indulgence; Friday’s annual trip to Brown Dog Pizza was perfection in a pan), and felt the thrill of chasing world premieres. From navigating venues I could map blindfolded to wrestling with the glorious chaos of overlapping screenings, Day 1 reignited why this festival is a pilgrimage worth making. The films we caught, the filmmakers we met, and the conversations that spilled into the night—they all reminded me that Telluride isn’t just a festival; it’s a fleeting sanctuary for storytellers and dreamers.
The 52nd Telluride Film Festival kicked off at the Werner Herzog Theatre with the annual press meeting, where Telluride’s executive director, Julie Huntsinger, laid out the roadmap for the 52nd edition. With her characteristic warmth, she shared tantalizing tidbits about the lineup and the year’s journey to this moment, setting the stage for a weekend of cinematic discovery. The room buzzed with anticipation—FilmTwitter folks and Oscar prognosticators alike scribbling notes, already plotting their schedules around the secret patron screenings that keep us all on our toes.
From there, we settled in for the patron screening of Paolo Sorrentino’s La grazia, a Venice Golden Lion nominee that brought a slice of Italian gravitas to Telluride. Starring Toni Servillo as Mariano De Santis, Italy’s conservative president nicknamed “Reinforced Steel” for his unyielding traditionalism, the film follows the aging leader in his final months in office. De Santis, a devout Catholic, grapples with weighty decisions—euthanasia laws, potential pardons—that clash with his rigid ideals, leaving him feeling like a stranger in his own country. Compounding his turmoil is the lingering grief over his wife’s death eight years prior, soured by his obsessive resentment over her long-ago affair. His orbit—his sharp lawyer-daughter, lifelong friends, and loyal security team—offers solace, but it’s his internal journey that anchors the story.
La grazia caught me off guard in the best way. The first hour felt slow, almost tedious, as it laid the groundwork, but the second and third acts unfurled with a quiet power that won me over. Sorrentino, whose work I’ve never fully connected with, crafts something universal here: the ache of growing old in a world that’s moved on. De Santis, grumpy and adrift, expects others to share his disillusionment, yet the film reveals a truth we all face—passion belongs to the young, passed down through generations. In his final days as president, De Santis finds grace in surrender, an arc that hit me hard. Daria D’Antonio’s cinematography is a masterclass in restraint and emotional depth with austere elegance, using grey tones to mirror the aging president’s isolation. The Quirinale Palace becomes a character itself, its cold grandeur echoing De Santis’s solitude, while Rome’s twinkling nightscapes offer fleeting warmth.
The performances carry the film’s heart. Servillo is magnetic, his weathered face a canvas of grief and stubborn pride, while Milvia Marigliano, as his fiery lifelong friend Coco, steals scenes with her vibrant defiance. The ensemble—his daughter, friends, security team—breathes life into the intricate bonds of love and loyalty. La Grazia weaves heavy moral questions, lingering grief, and the fragile ties we hold dear into a slow-burn crescendo that’s both powerful and deeply satisfying. (Grade: B+)
In between shows, I attended the Netflix party for Ballad of a Small Player at one of Telluride’s best Italian restaurants, Rustico Ristorante, where I spoke with the film’s director, Edward Berger, and star, Colin Farrell. The two also introduced the film later in the evening.
But before that screening came the world premiere of Scott Cooper’s Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere. Cooper, Jeremy Allen White, Jeremy Strong, Jon Landau, and Bruce Springsteen himself were on hand to present the film.
At the end of The River tour in 1981, Bruce Springsteen (Jeremy Allen White) found himself at a crossroads: a rising rock star on the brink of legend, yet battling depression and industry pressure to capitalize on the biggest tour of his career. Instead, Springsteen retreated inward, armed with a 4-track recorder, and began writing the haunting songs that became Nebraska. Inspired by his childhood and Terrence Malick’s Badlands, the stripped-down, lo-fi tracks confronted gritty tales of struggle, desperation, and humanity—capturing both his own mental health battles and those of a larger generation. That raw honesty has made Nebraska timeless—and watching its creation unfold on screen is riveting.
It all works thanks to Jeremy Allen White’s magnetic, deeply felt performance. As The Boss, he channels both the genius and the depression, playing the strained relationship with his father (Stephen Graham) and the tenderness with his love interest (Odessa Young, in a terrific breakthrough performance). At the heart of the film is Bruce’s bond with his longtime manager and friend Jon Landau (Jeremy Strong), who wasn’t just a manager but the ballast that kept Bruce steady. Strong captures that quiet force beautifully.
Director Scott Cooper—whose Hostiles remains one of my favorite Telluride entries—smartly avoids the cradle-to-grave trap and instead zeroes in on a pivotal moment. It’s a decision that pays off, resulting in one of the stronger biopics in recent years. He spoke about casting White, noting that he didn’t want imitation: “I wanted someone who could embody the Bruce we all know with intensity and authenticity, with a vitality and a vulnerability. But they had to have two qualities—humility and swagger. And they don’t teach swagger at Juilliard.”
Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere is a story of grit, vision, and soul, an echo of the extraordinary artist it portrays. It’s a film Springsteen fans will devour—and while not flawless, it’s one of the most resonant music biopics in years. (Grade: B+)
The world premiere of Edward Berger’s Ballad of a Small Player closed out the first day. The film is a dreamy, hallucinatory dive into the life of Lord Doyle (Colin Farrell), a degenerate gambler and con man on a brutal run of bad luck. Shuffling between Macau casinos, Doyle tries to outrun debts to hotels and loan sharks, projecting an image of high-roller glamour with champagne he doesn’t like and cigars he doesn’t care for. He’s a fascinating character—desperate, sweaty, and all facade.
Tilda Swinton co-stars as Cynthia Blithe, an investigator hot on Doyle’s trail, while Fala Chen plays Dao Ming, a kindred spirit who may represent his last chance at redemption.
Ballad of a Small Player is a trippy, psychedelic anxiety attack held together by Farrell’s extraordinary performance and Berger’s precise eye. After the dark realism of All Quiet on the Western Front (2022) and the heightened dramatics of Conclave (2024), Ballad proves Berger can tackle any kind of story. It’s one more reason he’s among the most versatile directors working today.
Before the screening, Farrell called the project “an extraordinary experience and a complete mindfuck, as moments in life can be sometimes.” He praised Berger’s process, noting how he included everyone in the creative discussion, “captaining the ship with extraordinary integrity, passion, clarity, purpose, and deep meaning.” His admiration for Berger was obvious, and Berger echoed the sentiment, calling their collaboration “magic.”
While it pains me greatly to say that not everything worked for me—most notably Volker Bertelmann’s ostentatious score— Ballad of a Small Player is at the very least a bold, uncompromising swing. Farrell’s fever-dream performance, soaked in sweat as Doyle spirals through one bad choice after another, is reason enough to watch. While I can’t say I loved it as much as All Quiet or Conclave, this is a film strange and layered enough to demand a second viewing. (Grade: B)
Day Two brings the North American premieres of Yorgos Lanthimos’ Bugonia and Noah Baumbach’s Jay Kelly—a pairing that promises as much tonal whiplash as Telluride itself.
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