Image Source: Lionsgate Films | Reading Time: 7 minutes
| Category | Details |
|---|---|
| Release Date | October 29, 2025 (USA) |
| Director | Jan Komasa |
| Distributed By | Lionsgate Films |
| Writers | Lori Rosene-Gambino, Jan Komasa |
| Cast | Diane Lane, Kyle Chandler, Madeline Brewer, Zoey Deutch, Mckenna Grace, Dylan O'Brien, Phoebe Dynevor, Daryl McCormack |
| Runtime | 1 hour 51 minutes |
| Age Rating | R (Restricted) |
| Genre | Thriller, Drama, Political |
| Budget | Estimated $20-25 Million |
Review:
What begins as an intimate family celebration transforms into a nightmare of ideological warfare, fractured loyalties, and the terrifying realization that democracy is more fragile than we dare to imagine. Anniversary, the audacious new thriller from Polish filmmaker Jan Komasa, asks a question that feels increasingly urgent: What happens when a charismatic ideology infiltrates the family unit itself, turning loved ones into ideological opponents? This is not a comforting film, nor does it pretend to be—it's a haunting meditation on authoritarianism, personal betrayal, and the slow erosion of civilization that occurs when ordinary people prioritize comfort and power over principle.
Centered around a wealthy Washington D.C. family and spanning five years of gatherings and anniversaries, Anniversary follows the catastrophic impact of a divisive political movement called "The Change." At the story's heart is Ellen, portrayed with steely determination by Diane Lane, a respected Georgetown political science professor whose progressive values and intellectual certainty leave little room for nuance or forgiveness. Her husband Paul, brought to life by Kyle Chandler with understated complexity, operates as the family's emotional diplomat, desperately attempting to maintain unity by refusing to acknowledge the ideological battle raging beneath the surface. Their carefully constructed world begins to implode when their son Josh introduces his new girlfriend Liz, played with chilling calculated warmth by Phoebe Dynevor—a former student of Ellen's who harbors deep resentment toward her former professor.
Liz represents a new breed of ideological zealot: intelligent, articulate, and utterly convinced of her righteousness. Her manifesto, "The Change," becomes an unexpected bestseller that catalyzes a sweeping political movement across America. What makes Komasa's vision particularly terrifying is not that the movement's specific ideology is clearly defined, but rather that it operates through vagueness and emotional appeals. The film suggests that authoritarianism often doesn't require a detailed platform—it requires only dissatisfaction, resentment, and charismatic figures willing to weaponize those emotions. Diane Lane delivers a powerhouse performance as Ellen, a woman whose intellectual superiority becomes both her strength and her fatal weakness. Lane captures the painful contradiction of someone who understands the dangers ahead yet proves incapable of protecting her family because she fundamentally underestimated her opponent and overestimated her ability to reason with those who've already made their choice.
The ensemble cast elevates what could have been a heavy-handed political screed into something far more nuanced and devastating. Madeline Brewer brings fiery conviction to Anna, the lesbian stand-up comic whose progressive certainties crumble when confronted with real consequences. Zoey Deutch portrays Cynthia with tragic clarity—a woman whose environmental idealism gradually capitulates to material comfort and social acceptance. Young Mckenna Grace shines as Birdie, capturing the vulnerability of a teenager caught between her family's fractured worldviews with remarkable sensitivity. Kyle Chandler provides the film's emotional anchor, playing a man desperately trying to preserve family harmony through willful ignorance, only to discover that neutrality in times of crisis is itself a choice with profound consequences. Dylan O'Brien, as the weak-willed Josh, embodies the danger of moral relativism—a man who allows himself to be swept up in Liz's movement not from conviction but from the seductive promise of power and validation.
Komasa, known for his unflinching examinations of authoritarianism through films like "Corpus Christi" and the documentary-drama "Warsaw 44," brings a distinctive perspective shaped by Poland's experience living under oppressive regimes. His outsider viewpoint allows him to identify patterns in American society that homegrown filmmakers might hesitate to highlight. The director structures the narrative across five crucial anniversaries, each marking a descent deeper into societal chaos. The visual language becomes increasingly claustrophobic and disturbing as the scope of The Change's influence expands, creating a psychological tension that mirrors the family's psychological deterioration. What begins with sophisticated dinner table arguments eventually devolves into whispered conversations about disappeared persons and whether dissidents should be presumed dead.
The film's most provocative achievement is its willingness to depict ordinary, educated, morally concerned people gradually becoming complicit in authoritarian structures—not through obvious villainy but through compromise, rationalization, and the promise of safety or advancement. Komasa refuses to allow viewers the comfort of identifying obvious good guys and bad guys. Instead, he demonstrates how ideological rigidity on any side creates vulnerability to manipulation, and how the desire to avoid conflict often leads to the preservation of far worse consequences. The political thriller elements escalate as the film progresses, incorporating surveillance, ideological purging, and state-sanctioned violence—yet these dramatic escalations emerge organically from the family dynamics, suggesting that the personal is always inextricably tied to the political.
There are moments when the film's heavy-handedness threatens to undermine its effectiveness, particularly in sequences that feel designed primarily as political statements rather than character revelations. Some viewers may find the vagueness of The Change's ideology frustrating—the film intentionally refuses to provide specific policy details, which some interpret as profound commentary on how fascism operates through emotional appeals rather than rational argument, while others may see it as a storytelling weakness. Additionally, certain plot developments ask viewers to accept significant leaps of faith regarding how quickly societal collapse could occur, even if the film's basic premise about how authoritarianism infiltrates institutions remains disturbingly plausible.
Despite these considerations, Anniversary achieves something increasingly rare in contemporary cinema: a genuinely provocative examination of how individual moral failures accumulate into collective catastrophe. The film doesn't offer false hope or easy redemption—it suggests that once certain lines are crossed, the path back requires sacrifice that most people prove unwilling to make. The ending, deliberately ambiguous and morally devastating, will haunt viewers long after leaving the theater. For audiences willing to sit with discomfort and confront difficult questions about their own compromises and complicity, Anniversary offers profound material for reflection. This is not escapist entertainment; it's a political intervention disguised as family drama, a warning delivered with artistic precision and emotional intelligence.
"You shouldn't have underestimated me. Now I have your son, and I'm just getting started."
Liz's words encapsulate the entire trajectory of this devastating film. Anniversary isn't just a movie—it's a mirror held up to our moment. Don't look away. Watch it, question it, and most importantly, remember it.
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