Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:

Since 1992 my hometown of Indianapolis has presented the Heartland International Film Festival, a multi-day, multi-theater celebration of cinema held every October. Local moviegoers have the opportunity to see over a hundred new works in the realms of documentaries, narrative features, shorts, and animation made across multiple continents from myriad points of the human experience. Heartland’s 35th edition runs October 7-18 and will be my fourth time diving in. I’ve made plans to catch at least six films in all, maybe more if time permits…

Once again I took a week’s vacation from my day job and posted for about the six films I saw at four venues over eleven days, and two virtual screenings we’ll get to in a moment. I doubt anyone out there read every single word, but I’m not even done yet! For those just joining us, those six films were as follows, ranked:

1. Wild Horse Nine
2. Tender Loving Care
3. The Debut
4. Elsinore
5. Sender
6. Jimmy

This might be the first year that every Heartland entry I saw in theaters already has a distribution deal in place. Five of these will be hitting theaters over the next two months; Sender is targeted for spring 2027 release. There’s a solid chance one or two of these may show up among the next Academy Awards nominations. It’s always keen to have names already crossed off my annual Oscars Quest to-do list in advance. I would’ve seen far more if it weren’t for personal plans, endurance, and in particular the numerous schedule conflicts among the movies themselves. Sorry it didn’t work out for I Play Rocky, Tangles, A Talent for Murder, the new Almodovar, and quite a few others.

For viewers who wanted to travel less, Heartland also offered a selection of virtual screenings for certain films. I made time for two, both of which held their World Premieres at this very festival:

Higher Love: As if Wild Horse Nine and Tender Loving Care hadn’t already left me maudlin enough about my ever-advancing age, along come 52‘s President Dennis Haysbert and Gimme a Break‘s Telma Hopkins as a long-married couple put to the test when she suffers a debilitating stroke and he can’t care for her alone anymore. After she’s spent three years in a senior living center where he visits her daily, Taxi star Marilu Henner checks in her dementia-afflicted husband Joe Pantoliano (Midnight Run! Goonies! more more more!) just down the hall. Haysbert and Henner strike up a platonic friendship, each of them beyond weary from the long-term emotional duress of spousal caregiving. Slowly they find more in common and begin hanging out together a bit too often, judging by the scandalous glares they’re getting from the staff and their own family members.

At 69 Haysbert is the youngest of the main cast, but it hasn’t been that long since his military-action antihero of The Unit. (Wait, yeah, it has: that ended seventeen years ago. Ouch.) He’s still a commanding presence even if his fiercest opponents are a judgmental nursing-home manager and a mid-movie cartoon villain who fell out of a ’90s soap-opera wormhole…but Hopkins’ heartbreaking performance draws out his rarely witnessed tender side as he teaches us about the very real stresses of caregiver burnout while wandering dangerously close to traditional marital boundaries and almost becoming a villain himself. Fortunately any older viewers who prefer the straight-and-narrow comfort are given enough hints early on that all will be well, mostly in the form of progressive evangelism that clearly broadcast this is a faith-based production. But as such things go, Gen-X viewers will enjoy seeing some familiar faces who’ve still got it.

(Shameful confession: I had no idea Hopkins was still alive. I guess I just assumed that when Nell Carter passed away, the two of them were buried together, dead or not.)

Wake: The least favorite of my week was a dramedy (ostensibly?) from first-time director Devon Michaels, a.k.a. Devon Schwartz, a.k.a. Bill at the Yale Daily News from Gilmore Girls. When a father of several adult children (I lost count) dies by suicide, his estranged family convenes for the first time in years and squabbles nonstop over the viewing arrangements. Up front we’re whipped through skimpy intros of the sprawling cast that includes Penelope Ann Miller, Jughead from Riverdale, Cyril from Archer, Primrose Everdeen, Sam Gamgee’s formerly baby daughter, that IT guy from The Office whose name was probably Shadow or Garth, Schwartz himself but uncredited, and TV’s Olivia Walton getting in her regularly scheduled SAG-AFTRA health-insurance qualifier gig, which IMHO she shouldn’t have to do.

Those are among innumerable others, but within minutes I’d lost track of everyone, partly because I suffer from acute Long-Haired Brunette Blindness whenever too many gather at once (no lie, it’s why I took two tries to get into The Haunting of Hill House), and partly because the constant ensemble-juggling was shot with comedic timing and rhythm that left blanks where the laughs should’ve punctuated. Also not helping was the impish jazz-piano score cuing us to chuckle more, except when that took a time-out for one serious (?) scene overlaid with Birdman drums. By the time everyone shuts up and realizes maybe they should be treating Dad’s suicide with the slightest propriety, I was like a rude plus-one out in the funeral home parking lot, tapping my foot and waiting till it was okay to politely split.

…

I wish I could’ve seen more, but being the blogging creature that I am, I strove to strike a balance between the viewing experiences and the post-game write-ups here. Anne and I chatted about the possibility of buying a Heartland membership or at least a ten-pack of tickets, which offers a discount and pays for itself if you have the free time. But the time constraints are challenging, even with the time off work. I can’t break my self-imposed hobby-job of going home and immediately churning out 1000 or so words about each and every film — for the fun of it and without any chance of income or attention. Sometimes it’s fun to pretend I’m a fully unpaid intern and have to get all these on J. Jonah Jameson’s desk by Tuesday morning, plus maybe photos of Spider-Man. Once in a blue moon, someone even notices, which is nice.

This year’s festival screened films at six theaters. Mine were spread across four of those, with live intros by Heartland staffers — HIFF President Michael Ault, Artistic Director Greg Sorvig (celebrating 15 years with them!), Film Programming Coordinator Sam Opsahl, and, um, I didn’t catch the name of the young lady who introduced Elsinore because I was grousing too loudly in my head about the sundae I’d ordered 25 minutes earlier that hadn’t been delivered yet.

I already posted pics from opening night with Jimmy at Scottish Rite Cathedral, where we sat in the fourth-floor balcony in cramped seats that were designed for much tinier humans back in the century when folks averaged five-foot-one in height and died instantly if they weighed over 100 pounds. I wish we’d had the time to take some exterior shots, but rush-hour traffic and parking congestion left us with less wandering time than I would’ve liked.

Wild Horse Nine and The Debut screened at Newfields’ Tobias Theater, where Heartland always happens the same time as the art museum’s annual “Harvest Nights” celebration, which gets a huge community turnout. Consequently the parking was an inadequate nightmare both evenings. For Wild Horse Nine I parked near a faraway lawn on their grounds that I’d never seen before and took 10-15 minutes to rediscover afterward in the darkness. Our space for The Debut was somewhat closer and it was easier for us to retrace our steps, but the post-screening gridlock was utterly ridiculous as hundreds of us tried to leave while dozens more families were still pouring in for some pitch-dark pumpkin-peeping.

Sender and Tender Loving Care were held at the Alamo Drafthouse, who were once again the festival’s Presenting Sponsor after 2025 went pretty well (and they’re signed for at least two more years). Of all Heartland’s theaters they have the best customer service, the best A/V equipment, the comfiest seats, the best food (just popcorn and common candy alone don’t really do it for me), and the shortest drive from my west-side house. I’m addicted to their milkshakes and look forward to someday checking out the new menu items they just introduced after the festival ended.

We should maybe skip the part where, as I tried leaving the Alamo, I tripped over one woman’s purse that was lying on Heartland’s red carpet in the lobby while folks were posing for pics. And we can leave out how I opened the exit door without looking through the glass first and bumped into another woman who’d been standing there with her back to it, which seems an unwise thing to do in front of an exit door. I went home feeling like Mr. Magoo, but at least I’d enjoyed the movie.

I braved Elsinore solo at Living Room Theaters, who had a better dessert menu than I remember from times past, and who still thankfully validated parking in downtown Indy’s bustling Mass Ave district. I’m not used to being out among the nightlife, especially not by myself. The social butterflies ignore me, and in return I mind my business and try not to be offended at being ignored. Thumbs-up to their brownie sundae, which did finally arrive five minutes into the film. I don’t drink, so that’s my version of painting the town red on a Friday night.

Of the other two theaters: for whatever reason the Kan-Kan Cinema only participated for two days this time, neither of which worked out for me; and maybe next year I’ll visit the Indy Art Center, but it hasn’t happened yet.

If you’re still here after seven entries and 11,041 total words: thanks for reading! Lord willing and time permitting, we’ll be back next year.