Review of Primetime (2026)

During Lance Oppenheim’s press tour for his fictional directorial debut, he made an interesting distinction between nonfiction and fiction filmmaking: the biggest intrigue in documentary filmmaking happens every day, and the uncertainty of what you’re going to catch is ultimately the most rewarding part. That certainly seems true given the subjects of his various documentaries, from renaissance festivals and sperm donors to, well, Elizabeth Holmes in his shock release coming later this October. Fiction, by comparison, requires the filmmaker to manufacture nearly all of that intrigue from what he has already created and collaborated on with his cast and crew. And watching Primetime, I found myself thinking about that distinction quite a bit, because Oppenheim’s first fictional film is overwhelmingly successful at manufacturing a world to look at, but considerably less successful at manufacturing a story that feels as compelling as that world.

The visual pastiche is easily the most overwhelming element here. Primetime is hazy, grimy, and uncomfortably sleazy-looking, as if Oppenheim didn’t just want to recreate the early 2000s but wanted to recreate the early 2000s through a busted 144p video file that should never be allowed to get upscaled for a home release beyond a VHS tape. It is remarkably committed to its neon palette and fuzzy digital photography, and while that kind of aesthetic can sometimes feel like a filmmaker straining for a certain effect, here it is at least consistent enough to become the movie’s identity. Among everything Primetime reminded me of, I kept coming back to Ali Abbasi’s The Apprentice more than anything else – not because the subjects or filmmakers are particularly comparable, but because both films are interested in recreating a particular ugly cultural moment through an aesthetic that feels almost as important as the story itself.

Read my full review of 'Primetime' for Cinephile Corner