Carousel (2026) 'Sundance' Movie Review: A Leisurely, Honest Portrayal Of Mid-life Malaise

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Carousel (2026) shares narrative components with many of the independent dramedies that pop up in the American independent film scene; the subject of adults working through the challenges of their dwindling future is ripe with possibility to make both light-hearted and meaningful conclusions. It’s only become a formula that’s felt derivative because there’s not a satisfying way to address these existential ways without feeling hastily declarative or too narrow in scope. “Carousel” is thankfully a film that seems more interested in observations than it does analysis. That’s not to say that the film doesn’t meaningfully engage with its characters’ integrity, but that writer/director Rachel Lambert tells an unhurried story about growing to accept life’s irrationality.

Noah (Chris Pine) is the type of small town doctor who seems to be in everybody’s good graces, even if he’s privately struggling to make ends meet. Running his own practice comes with a plethora of financial burdens, and Noah’s life has become especially erratic in the wake of both the passing of his father and a divorce from his wife (Dagmara Domincyzk), with whom he shares joint custody of their teenage daughter Maya (Abby Ryder Fortson). Although he already feels like he’s only a passing presence in Maya’s life, Noah grows more concerned when she begins to break into fits of rage and sadness that he can only attribute to early signs of depression. Noah feels more alone than ever, which makes it all the more dangerous and confusing when he reconnects with his high school sweetheart Rebecca (Jenny Slate), who also happens to be the coach of Maya’s debate team.

Although it begins with a slightly overbearingly melodic score and the type of whimsical, rhythmic dialogue that would suggest something more impressionistic, “Carousel” has a rare slice-of-life quality where it’s not compelled to overexplain elements of the backstory. It’s not clear why the death of Noah’s father was so surprising, or if he was particularly stung by the loss because of the lack of mentors in his life; it’s implied, if not directly stated, that being expected to take care of many patients means that Noah’s found few people who are willing to check on him. He’s a compelling protagonist because Noah is no longer a young man, and is slowly beginning to realize that there’s not a simple prescription to fix his longstanding relationship issues. The dialogue isn’t particularly flowery, and the willingness to find moments that are awkward, embarrassing, and potentially affectless shows that Lambert has confidence within her characters.

While the focus does occasionally stray from Noah, “Carousel” is primarily centered on his perspective, and considers the issues within other characters’ lives that pertain to him. Rebecca’s crisis of confidence involves both her career and home; while Noah has been tied to the area because of his family and profession, Rebecca feels somewhat guilty that she’s returning to a place of familiarity, as it could be perceived as a retreat. There’s not a melodramatic moment in which Noah and Rebecca diagnose each others’ issues, as Lambert is wise enough to know that life doesn’t work that way. It’s actually more optimistic on the film’s part to suggest that these flawed, yet endearing characters are capable of evolution.

The parallels between Noah and Rebecca don’t stop at their shared apprehension of the immediate future, but in their respective dynamics with their parents. Rebecca’s parents, played by Jessica Harper and Jeffrey DeMunn, are given a few humorous moments, but ultimately serve more as narrative distractions than complete characters. There’s similarly not much for Karey Sagal to do in the role of Noah’s mother, but their mutual inability to come to grips with loss does give both actors a chance to shine. If anything, Lambert shows more expertise with her characters’ isolation than their interactions, which is itself an achievement. There’s only so many ways that a character can be alone in their thoughts without the realism of the moment being sacrificed by an unrealistically staged monologue, but Lambert makes room for their confessions in ways that feel honest.

The most notable quality of “Carousel,” and what may help it connect with a broader audience, is a performance by Pine that shows just how much he has grown as an actor. It’s been evident for well over a decade that Pine was more than just another interchangeable franchise lead, but a brave and multifaceted actor willing to take risks. A role like his in “Carousel” might seem straightforward on paper, but it’s not easy to play a supposedly “ordinary” character who actually feels like a real person. It’s not a role that Pine could have played even a few years ago, but he’s reached an age where he can convey both the effects of a son and the encumberments of a father; this is certainly the type of film that “they don’t make anymore,” and Pine’s performance is reminiscent of those by William Hurt in “The Accidental Tourist” and Donald Sutherland in “Ordinary People.”

Pine and Slate aren’t necessarily bad together, and the friction between them is actually helpful in charting the uneven nature of the relationship. That being said, the rate at which the characters recommit to one another is a bit too rapid to buy into considering how little information there is about their past together. The more interesting dynamic is that of Pine and Forster, who gives another great youth performance after her breakout turn in “Are You There, God? It’s Me Margaret.” Conveying the frustrations of a character dealing with external pressures but isn’t able to voice them is no easy task, but Forster is able to approximate Maya’s feelings in a manner that feels honest.

“Carousel” is a little too long for a film so light on plot, and does occasionally insert montages when there isn’t a natural progression of plot points. It may wear some familiar beats on its sleeve, but “Carousel” isn’t weighed by any sense of self-importance, other than to reflect on profound moments within an “average” life that may be easy to discount. It’s charming, tender, but never manipulative, which is the right blend for a film counting on breaching an emotional connection.