Rifkin's Festival (2020)

Rifkin’s Festival is a breezy love letter to movies themselves, the kind of film that makes you want to book a ticket to San Sebastián and wander into a theater just to see what’s playing. Woody Allen keeps the tone light and wistful, letting the festival’s sunlit streets and late-night conversations do the heavy lifting while Wallace Shawn gives Mort a wonderfully human mix of insecurity, wit, and aching romantic hope. It’s less about big plot turns than the small, bittersweet ways art and travel can make you question the life you’ve settled into, and Gina Gershon brings a grounded spark that keeps the comedy from floating away. If you’re looking for high stakes or sharp-edged satire, this may feel slight—but if you’re in the mood for charm, nostalgia, and grown-up romantic confusion served with a gentle touch, it’s an easy film to fall into.

Rifkin’s Festival is clearly trying to be a breezy, bittersweet love-letter to movies and the seductive “what if?” feelings that come with travel, festivals, and midlife regret. The problem is it often plays like a greatest-hits remix of Woody Allen themes—neurotic romantic angst, infidelity, and cinephile daydreams—without enough new insight or narrative momentum to make it feel essential. If you’re looking for a sharp romantic comedy with real emotional stakes or a story that builds to something, the thin plotting and leisurely pacing may test your patience. Still, the San Sebastián setting is charming, and Wallace Shawn’s self-aware melancholy can be quietly amusing if you’re already in the mood for a light, talky, low-stakes diversion.