The Venice Film Festival 2026 is set to be an unmissable cinematic event, marking the start of a series of exclusive premieres that will captivate film enthusiasts. Among the films presented, Falling House by Mohsen Gharaei fits within the tradition of Iranian dissenting cinema, while Jupiter by Alexandre Smia dives into the intricacies of power through the moral dilemmas of a French president. Finally, Mr. Nelson, did you kill people? by S. Tsukamoto explores the dark reflections of war and memory. Each of these films promises to spark exciting debates on universal and contemporary themes.
The Venice Film Festival 2026 opened with an impressive array of films that question our humanity and the consequences of our actions. Among them, “Falling House” by Mohsen Gharaei explores the effects of a totalitarian regime on an Iranian family, “Jupiter” by Alexandre Smia highlights the tension faced by a president in the midst of a geopolitical crisis, and finally, “Mr. Nelson, did you kill people?” by S. Tsukamoto addresses the struggle of an American veteran with his dark past. This article will focus on these works by examining their narrative scope and emotional impact.
Falling House: a descent into infamy
Falling House by Mohsen Gharaei stands out for its heartbreaking portrayal of life under an oppressive regime in Iran. The film tells the story of Rashid, a prison guard in Tehran. Living between the relentless suspicion of the prison director and the accusatory gaze of his own family, Rashid struggles to maintain a semblance of dignity. The house he inhabits is threatened by the construction of a highway, thereby endangering his family refuge.
This narrative underscores the fragility of a daily life steeped in paranoia and dehumanization. His relationship with his daughter becomes crucial when she aspires to flee to realize her dream of becoming a model in Turkey. Rashid, caught in the turmoil, chooses to lock away his wife and daughters, turning their home into a prison. This poignant metaphor of the absence of freedom resonates deeply.
A heavy yet striking work
On one side, the film oscillates between captivating moments and redundant passages, which somewhat detracts from its resonance. Although several scenes leave a memorable imprint, such as the cries and tears of the family, the staging sometimes feels overloaded. However, Gharaei knows how to capture the essence of despair.
The actors’ performances, while sometimes uneven, manage to convey the anxiety of daily life. Notably, the dialogues often resonate with a striking intensity. Ultimately, Falling House provides a reflection on the grip of a regime on human beings, a critique of power that transforms goodness into a form of brutality.
Jupiter: the responsibility of a man facing the world
In Jupiter, Alexandre Smia takes us into a dimension that oscillates between drama and social critique. Denis Ménochet embodies a French president confronted with an unprecedented crisis. The war between Russia and Ukraine creates a chaotic context that exacerbates the anxiety of the decisions he must make.
This film raises questions of power and morality. The imposing rhythm and palpable tension plunges the audience into the heart of the dilemmas of modern politics. Ménochet, in his role, becomes a tragic figure, struggling with his own demons after receiving devastating news. The duality of his character becomes essential to the narrative.
A captivating direction
Smia succeeds in creating an oppressive atmosphere that magnifies the message. The staging, both masterful and realistic, allows access to the psyche of the president. The dialogues, often imbued with a complex dialectic, reveal a world where good and evil intertwine. The intensity of each scene imposes a frantic pace, and every minute counts.
The film is also distinguished by the impressive performance of its cast, particularly Ménochet’s ability to convey vulnerability and strength. In sum, Jupiter is not merely a critique of power but awakens profound reflections on the human condition in the age of crises.
Mr. Nelson, did you kill people?: confronting the demons of the past
Mr. Nelson, did you kill people? by S. Tsukamoto plunges into the depths of a man’s soul confronted with his horrific acts during wartime. The main character, an American marine, is haunted by his past in Vietnam and the trauma that ensues. This film does not merely depict events. It delves into the weight that each body and each act of violence bears.
As the plot unfolds, the viewer discovers the devastating memories of massacres and unacceptable violence. The narration is raw, leaving no respite for the viewer. The shocking images and occasionally outdated aesthetics serve to enhance the emotional impact of the narrative.
An aggressive and striking aesthetic
The color palette, tinged with orange, evokes the scars left by the horrors of war. Tsukamoto makes no concessions in his portrayal of violence, which can evoke both fascination and disgust. In this context of suffering, the question “Why did you kill people?” becomes a tragic refrain that haunts the protagonist.
Ultimately, the film prompts reflection on the banality of violence and the dehumanization it entails. Tsukamoto, through his unique style, manages to expose the anguish of those who have committed the unthinkable. Mr. Nelson thus explores the tortuous labyrinth of memory and the consequences of war, a poignant work that does not leave one indifferent.
Venice Film Festival 2026: Exclusive premieres under the sign of tension
The Venice Film Festival 2026 kicked off this year with works that question and provoke, revealing the power of contemporary cinema to address complex themes. At the forefront, Falling House by M. Gharaei stands out for its dive into an Iranian daily life marked by totalitarianism. This opus, though heavy and sometimes clumsy, seeks to establish a striking parallel between the inside of a house and the walls of a prison, inviting the audience to reflect on the dehumanization born of fear and suspicion.
Next, the film Jupiter by A. Smia presents an oppressive vision of power in the face of a geopolitical crisis. Through the character of President Archambault, the film explores the weight of political responsibility, confronting the intimacy of pain with the decision-making scale of a State. The impressive casting, featuring renowned actors, reinforces this constant tension, where every choice carries radical implications. The immersive staging places the audience at the heart of the action, making the pressure of critical situations palpable.
Finally, Mr. Nelson, did you kill people? by S. Tsukamoto tackles the haunting question of memory and trauma, juxtaposed with the horrors of war. Through a protagonist haunted by his military past, the film does not hesitate to expose the brutality of violence and its devastating effects. The intrusive nature of the narration leads to a reflection on human nature and redemption through memory and testimony.
These first three films illustrate the power of cinema as a mirror of our society, inviting reflection on issues as crucial as identity, war, and the weight of the past, all within a festival setting that is sure to leave a lasting impression.
