If I Go Will They Miss Me marks the feature directorial debut of Walter Thompson-Hernandez, expanding his 2022 short film of the same name into a fully realized meditation on father-son relationships and the cyclical nature of trauma. Released at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival on January 24, the film stars J. Alphonse Nicholson as Big Ant, a recently released ex-convict struggling to reconnect with his family, alongside Danielle Brooks as his wife Lozita and breakout young actor Bodhi Dell as their son, Little Ant.
Set against the backdrop of Watts, California, beneath the constant drone of LAX flight paths, this 95-minute drama weaves together magical realism and social realism to create something genuinely affecting. Produced by Spark Features, Further Adventures, and Cedar Road, the film arrives as both an announcement of Thompson-Hernandez as a filmmaker to watch and a worthy addition to the lineage of intimate Black cinema pioneered by directors like Charles Burnett.
Story and Screenplay: A Dreamlike Dance Between Past and Present
Thompson-Hernandez's screenplay operates on multiple registers simultaneously. On the surface, it's a straightforward family drama about a boy who idolizes his frequently incarcerated father and a mother trying to hold everything together. But beneath that familiar framework lies something more elusive and poetic. The narrative introduces a supernatural element where both father and son begin seeing spectral figures of young boys in white t-shirts, arms outstretched as if in flight, hovering on the periphery of their daily lives.
The film never explains these visions, and that restraint is one of its greatest strengths. Instead, these apparitions function as visual manifestations of trauma, regret, and the weight of generational cycles. They press against reality like unwelcome memories, creating an atmospheric tension that permeates the entire story.
The pacing moves with deliberate slowness, allowing scenes to breathe and moments to linger. This isn't a film interested in plot mechanics or dramatic confrontations in the traditional sense. Rather, it's structured around emotional rhythms, building its impact through accumulation. The screenplay is thoughtfully constructed, intercutting scenes from Big Ant's troubled youth with present-day struggles, creating a dialogue between past choices and current consequences.
Where the narrative occasionally falters is in its resolution. The film's dreamy, impressionistic approach sometimes leaves dramatic threads dangling, and certain character motivations remain frustratingly opaque. However, this ambiguity feels intentional rather than accidental, reflecting the messy, unresolved nature of real family dynamics.
Acting and Characters: Three Powerhouse Performances
Bodhi Dell delivers a remarkably nuanced performance as Little Ant, capturing both childlike wonder and perceptive intelligence. His eyes convey a universe of longing and admiration when he looks at his father, and he brings authenticity to every moment. Dell makes Little Ant's devotion to Big Ant feel entirely believable, even when the audience can see clearly that this hero worship may be misplaced. His classroom presentation about Pegasus, the mythical winged horse, becomes a window into how he views his father as larger-than-life and almost magical.
J. Alphonse Nicholson shoulders the film's most complex role with volcanic intensity. Big Ant is not an easy character to sympathize with. He cheats, lies, lashes out, and even becomes physically violent with his son. He misses important family moments and squanders multiple chances at redemption. Yet Nicholson finds cracks in the armor, moments of vulnerability where the damage beneath becomes visible. His performance operates in contrasts, roaring one moment and eerily still the next, making Big Ant feel like a thunderstorm personified. He conveys the terrible awareness of a man who knows he should be better but can't seem to break free from his own patterns.
Danielle Brooks brings exhausted grace to Lozita, a woman who has been holding the family together through countless absences and now finds herself doing it again despite knowing better. Brooks tempers her typically sarcastic energy to play someone who has accepted the gap between what she hoped her life would be and what it actually is. She radiates maternal warmth laced with bruised realism, and when she finally erupts in frustration, it feels entirely earned. The chemistry between Brooks and Nicholson feels organic and lived-in, with Brooks expertly folding her easeful presence into his volatility.
Direction and Technical Aspects: Visual Poetry in Every Frame
Thompson-Hernandez demonstrates a sophisticated visual sensibility that recalls Barry Jenkins' Moonlight in its attention to framing childhood innocence and imagination. Cinematographer Michael Fernandez creates gorgeous compositions that add personality to every space and setting. The film's surroundings become characters in their own right, from the intimate interiors of the family home to the vast expanse of sky constantly filled with descending aircraft.
The use of airplanes as both literal background and symbolic weight is masterful. These planes become split metaphors representing escape, ascension, and abandonment simultaneously. For Little Ant, who dreams of becoming a pilot, they represent possibility and destiny. For Big Ant, they might serve as grim reminders of friends lost and dreams indefinitely deferred.
The editing, handled by co-editor Daysha Broadway alongside Thompson-Hernandez, moves with fluid confidence. The intercutting between past and present never feels jarring, and the film's several montage sequences hit progressively closer to the emotional core with each iteration. The production design creates an authentic sense of place without resorting to cliché or poverty "pron".
Visual motifs recur throughout: the gold "A" necklace that both father and son wear, the white t-shirts that echo the ghostly figures, the horses that connect to both Big Ant's day job at a stable and Little Ant's Pegasus mythology. Thompson-Hernandez weaves these elements together with assured confidence.
Music and Atmosphere: Sonic Landscapes of Memory
The film's opening montage features Jon Batiste's cover of "This Bitter Earth," immediately establishing the bittersweet emotional register the film will occupy. The score underscores without overwhelming, creating space for silence and ambient sound to do their own work. The constant drone of aircraft overhead becomes part of the film's sonic texture, a persistent reminder of the world beyond Watts and the impossibility of true escape. Sound design plays a crucial role in building atmosphere, from the intimate domestic spaces to the more expansive outdoor scenes.
The overall mood is contemplative and melancholic, occasionally punctuated by moments of joy that feel all the more precious for their rarity. The film creates an immersive sensory experience that evokes not just what these characters see but what they feel, establishing a dreamlike quality that makes the magical realist elements feel natural rather than forced.
Strengths and Weaknesses
What works well:
- Exceptional lead performances, particularly Dell's breakout turn and Nicholson's complex portrayal
- Stunning cinematography that elevates every frame
- Thoughtful integration of magical realism with grounded family drama
- Authentic sense of place and community
- Confident directorial vision that trusts the audience to sit with ambiguity
- Rich thematic exploration of legacy, trauma, and cyclical patterns
- Organic chemistry between all three leads
- Poetic visual language that speaks volumes without dialogue
What doesn't work:
- Deliberately slow pacing may test patience for viewers seeking conventional narrative momentum
- Some dramatic threads feel intentionally unresolved in ways that may frustrate
- The spectral visions, while thematically rich, occasionally feel underexplored
- Certain supporting characters remain underdeveloped
- The ending may feel too open-ended for those seeking clear resolution
Final Verdict: A Powerful Debut That Announces a Vital New Voice
Rating: 4/5 stars
If I Go Will They Miss Me represents the kind of assured, personal filmmaking that has defined Sundance at its best. Thompson-Hernandez has created something that feels both intimately specific to South Los Angeles and universally resonant in its exploration of complicated family bonds. The film stands as a worthy successor to Charles Burnett's socially conscious cinema while establishing its own distinct visual and narrative voice.
This is essential viewing for anyone drawn to character-driven dramas that prioritize emotional truth over plot mechanics. Fans of Moonlight, Killer of Sheep, and other contemplative examinations of Black life will find much to admire here. The film rewards patient viewers willing to engage with its elliptical storytelling and symbolic richness.
However, this may not satisfy viewers who prefer more conventional narrative structures or faster pacing. Those seeking clear-cut resolutions or traditional three-act structure will likely find the film's ambiguity and deliberate rhythms challenging. The magical realist elements require a willingness to accept mystery without explanation.
If I Go Will They Miss Me announces Walter Thompson-Hernandez as an exciting, impactful voice in contemporary cinema. It's a film that lingers in memory like the ghostly visions that haunt its characters, leaving behind a profound sense of longing for connection, understanding, and the possibility of breaking free from cycles that bind us to the past. While not without its challenges, it represents the kind of bold, personal filmmaking that makes cinema feel vital and necessary.
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