Run Amok (2026) Movie Review: A Bold But Uneven Exploration of Trauma, Memory, and Musical Catharsis

Run Amok represents writer-director NB Mager's audacious feature debut, tackling one of America's most fraught subjects through an unexpected lens that will either fascinate or frustrate viewers in equal measure. Premiering in the US Dramatic Competition at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival, this 96-minute comedy-drama stars Alyssa Marvin as Meg, a nerdy sophomore who decides to stage an elaborate musical reenactment of the school shooting that claimed her mother's life a decade earlier.

The film co-stars Patrick Wilson as Mr. Shelby, the music teacher who killed the shooter and became the school's resident hero, alongside Margaret Cho as Principal Linda, Molly Ringwald as Meg's Aunt Val, Bill Camp as the traumatized shop teacher Mr. Hunt, and Elizabeth Marvel as the shooter's mother Nancy. Produced by Greenmachine Film and Tandem Pictures, the film arrives as one of Sundance's most anticipated entries, promising to examine how communities process unspeakable tragedy through the framework of teenage artistic rebellion. What emerges is a deeply divided work that announces a filmmaker unafraid of discomfort while simultaneously struggling to maintain tonal balance across its ambitious premise.

Story and Screenplay: Provocative Ideas That Lose Cohesion

Mager's screenplay operates from a genuinely bold premise that feels almost recklessly brave in its conception. The narrative follows Meg as she pitches her musical commemoration project to school administrators who assume she'll perform something safe and innocuous, only to discover she intends to stage a full dramatic reenactment complete with pop music needle drops. As rehearsals progress, Meg researches the shooting that occurred when she was just four years old, uncovering uncomfortable truths about the student who pulled the trigger, reaching out to his ostracized mother, and questioning the heroic narrative constructed around Mr. Shelby.

The film's thematic ambitions are substantial. Mager examines how institutions prioritize optics over genuine healing, creating feedback loops where platitudes and empty promises substitute for emotional processing. She explores the absurdist limbo young people navigate after tragedy, where counselors are hastily assigned, assemblies are staged, and administrators speak in rehearsed phrases that gesture toward closure without truly engaging with grief. The screenplay positions Meg's musical not as provocation but as survival, an attempt to give shape to feelings that refuse to stay neatly buried.

Where Mager excels is in her refusal to center adult responses as authoritative or complete. She exposes the opposing fictional realities created by those in power, from Principal Linda's desire to sanitize the commemoration with messages of hope, to Mr. Shelby's potential exploitation of his hero status. The script dismantles narratives fed to students by parents, community, and media, revealing how America normalizes provably avoidable horror.

However, the screenplay's structural integrity collapses in its final third. Multiple sources consistently identify the last half hour as where the delicate balancing act crashes spectacularly. What begins as clever satire exposing generational conflict transforms into something that feels haphazardly assembled, with endings slapped together without connective tissue. The resolution arrives both too simply for the complicated issues raised and too abruptly for the emotional investment established. Character arcs that seem pregnant with meaning, particularly Mr. Hunt's spiral into trauma, ultimately lead nowhere substantive.

Acting and Characters: Marvin Elevates Underwritten Material

Alyssa Marvin delivers a genuinely remarkable performance that consistently exceeds what the script provides. Making the leap from Broadway to film with impressive subtlety, Marvin brings layered emotional depth to Meg that would have otherwise earned her a place among iconic high school movie protagonists. She embodies a teenager whose artistic insistence stems from survival instinct rather than rebellion, capturing stubborn resolve alongside fragile vulnerability. Marvin makes Meg utterly charming in her nerdy awkwardness while maintaining conviction and intelligence throughout.

The scene where Meg walks through the shooter's actions reportedly stands as some of the most heartbreaking minutes captured on film, showcasing Marvin's fearless commitment to the material. She creates a character that theater kids will see themselves in, making the film more compelling through sheer charisma even when the narrative falters. Her chemistry with co-stars feels authentic, particularly in moments with Patrick Wilson's Mr. Shelby.

Wilson himself presents a more complicated case. He brings professional competence to his supportive music teacher role, delivering effectively in his few showy emotional moments, but the part seems beneath his capabilities. He's essentially sleepwalking through much of the film, and one can't help feeling the role is disappointingly underutilized. When he does engage, the warmth between him and Marvin registers genuinely, but these moments are too sparse.

The supporting ensemble is similarly wasted. Margaret Cho, Bill Camp, Molly Ringwald, and Yul Vazquez all have recognizable faces and proven talent, yet the screenplay gives them frustratingly little to do. Camp's Mr. Hunt displays the most visible signs of PTSD and initially seems positioned for a meaningful parallel narrative about trauma and culpability, but this thread unravels entirely. Elizabeth Marvel appears briefly as Nancy, the shooter's mother turned neighborhood pariah, in scenes that hint at deeper exploration that never materializes.

Direction and Technical Aspects: Competent But Lacking Visual Identity

Mager demonstrates solid fundamentals in her directorial approach but hasn't yet developed a distinctive visual language. The film is shot like virtually every other high school movie from the past few decades, employing familiar camera work and compositions that feel safe rather than daring. Given the provocative subject matter, this conventional visual approach represents a missed opportunity. The film could have benefited from more stylization or self-aware exaggeration that would have given it additional satirical bite.

The technical execution remains mostly grounded despite the theatrical elements, which works in the film's favor when maintaining emotional authenticity. Mager shows she can handle actors and understands how to frame dramatic moments, but the visual storytelling doesn't match the screenplay's boldness. The musical sequences themselves apparently deploy hilariously daring song choices with mischievous precision, using pop music as emotional punctuation rather than ironic garnish, though the specifics remain carefully unspoiled by sources.

The editing becomes increasingly problematic as the film progresses, particularly in that troubled final act. What begins as cleverly constructed shifts between rehearsal, reality, and revelation eventually loses coherence, with scenes feeling disconnected from each other. The production design effectively captures both the mundane reality of a contemporary American high school and the heightened theatrical space where Meg stages her performance, but these elements never quite harmonize.

Music and Atmosphere: Where Boldness Shines Through

The musical elements represent where Run Amok most successfully distinguishes itself. While specific song choices remain protected by sources eager to preserve the shock and delight of the film's needle drops, the consensus suggests Mager uses music with precision that borders on audacious. The soundtrack apparently channels the spirit of the most controversial Glee episode that never made it to air, deploying pop anthems in ways that would have been deemed too much, too soon, or simply too honest for mainstream television.

The tonal balance Mager attempts walks a tightrope between dark humor and raw heartbreak. At its best, the film understands that tragedy doesn't eliminate absurdity but often amplifies it, particularly when institutions prioritize appearance over substance. The atmosphere captures the strange rituals communities invent in the wake of the unthinkable, creating moments that feel simultaneously surreal and painfully authentic.

However, this atmospheric achievement isn't sustained throughout. The whimsical elements increasingly clash with darker moments as context dissolves, creating tonal whiplash that undermines the film's satirical intentions. What should feel dreamlike and emotionally potent instead becomes confusing, with the humor reportedly falling flat more often than it lands. The film's mood shifts from effectively uncomfortable to merely disjointed.

Strengths and Weaknesses

What works well:

• Alyssa Marvin's breakout performance that brings depth and humanity to complex material
• Genuinely bold premise that confronts difficult subject matter head-on
• Effective exposure of institutional responses that prioritize optics over healing
• Daring musical choices that use pop songs as emotional punctuation
• Strong opening act that establishes character and conflict with confidence
• Refusal to center adult perspectives as authoritative or complete
• Lovable protagonist that audiences will connect with immediately
• Willingness to examine how communities normalize preventable tragedy

What doesn't work:

• Final third completely loses narrative cohesion and tonal balance
• Visual direction lacks distinctive identity or stylistic boldness
• Supporting cast severely underutilized despite impressive talent
• Satirical humor frequently falls flat and feels forced
• Character arcs like Mr. Hunt's promising setup lead nowhere
• Resolution arrives too simply for the complicated issues raised
• Tonal shifts become increasingly jarring as film progresses
• Whimsy and darkness clash without sufficient context as story develops

Final Verdict: Ambitious Debut That Can't Stick Its Landing

Rating: 3/5 stars

Run Amok represents the kind of fearless filmmaking that deserves attention even when execution falters. Mager has identified genuinely important territory to explore, examining how teenagers process collective trauma when adults offer only platitudes and institutional responses. Her refusal to provide easy answers or comfortable catharsis feels appropriate for subject matter that resists closure. The film's first two-thirds showcase a filmmaker with strong instincts for character, theme, and the absurdist dimensions of American tragedy response.

This is essential viewing for anyone drawn to unconventional coming-of-age stories that tackle difficult subjects through unexpected frameworks. Fans of dark satire exploring institutional failure will find much to appreciate, particularly in how the film exposes the feedback loops that normalize violence. Theater kids and anyone who has felt silenced by adults claiming to know what's best will recognize themselves in Meg's struggle. Those interested in debut features from filmmakers willing to take genuine risks should seek this out.

However, viewers expecting sustained satirical bite or coherent narrative structure will likely feel frustrated. The film promises something incendiary and doesn't fully deliver, particularly in its catastrophic final act. Those who prefer their dark comedies to maintain tonal consistency or their character dramas to provide meaningful resolution will struggle with the film's increasingly haphazard construction. If you need your satire's humor to consistently land or your endings to feel earned rather than arbitrary, Run Amok will disappoint.

The film ultimately functions better as character study than satire, with Marvin's performance providing the strongest through-line even as the screenplay loses its footing. It's a tender, unconventional attempt at examining grief and institutional failure that honors student voices too often sidelined in conversations about tragedy. While not everything lands and the third act collapse undermines much of what comes before, there's enough here to mark Mager as a filmmaker to watch. Run Amok dares to ask whether we can truly move on from collective trauma, even if it can't quite sustain the difficult conversation it initiates. For a debut willing to risk total failure in pursuit of uncomfortable truths, that ambition deserves recognition even when the execution proves uneven.