SUNDANCE 2026
trigger warnings: SA, physical violence. childhood and other trauma
In the first moments of Josephine, we witness three contrasting scenes: a father’s love for his daughter, an act of shattering brutality in a park, and indifference from an authority figure that makes it more incomprehensible. It’s a struggle to watch. Especially when the survivor of that brutal act is hyper-focused on finding her hair-tie because it’s the only sense of control she has left. I cried. 15 minutes in, and the tears kept falling.
The titular little girl, Josephine (Mason Reeves)—Jo to her father—witnesses the crime. We watch it through her POV, and minutes afterward, her father (Channing Tatum) is unable to talk about it or even explain. That takes a toll on Jo. We realize he has always been prone to pushing through. He’s focused on training her to be physically tough. And early on, we suspect that’s due to his own trauma. He can’t deal with the brutality or even look at the survivor. Josephine’s mother (Gemma Chan) is similar, but she seems more willing to attempt counseling—at least at first.
As the aftermath continues, it’s the little things that reveal both parents’ obsession with safety, which leads us to discover they have festering secrets. Too quickly, their inability to communicate their pain transfers to their daughter, resulting in a fascination with violence, guns, and even the haunting specter of the Predator (Philip Ettinger) showing up in her daily life. Hallucinations that widen his circle of victims.
Let me be honest, my hands clenched while watching Josephine. My chest tightened, and I wanted to run. I still do. When the father gives his daughter permission to hurt people in self-defense without clearly defining when or how that is acceptable, the resulting dread builds until it’s nearly physical. And the film doesn’t let up, pulling us further and further down into the spiral of horror emanating from the inciting attack.
The more Josephine reaches out, the more her parents retreat in the hope that resilience will be enough. As a viewer, you want to scream, knowing nothing good can come out of this strange evasion. That’s the jarring efficacy of Josephine, an artfully realized film with a stunning mental and emotional chokehold. This psychological thriller from writer/director Beth de Araújo earns its Audience Award at Sundance from every angle. The performance, imagery, and storytelling define gripping, and the symbolism is as haunting as the Predator in the park.
The descent into darkness in Josephine is nothing short of devastating, but like the family at its center, it also searches for the light.
