‘Dreams in Nightmares’ review: A group of queer friends hits the road

A special type of indie film teaches you how to see it as you watch it — not as an instructor might a student, but as an ally would a new acquaintance. Shatara Michelle Ford’s sophomore feature, “Dreams in Nightmares,” about a road trip, a friendship and a Black queer landscape anchored by care, has that quietly confident appeal, like being invited into something intimate, then let free when your curiosity is at its zenith.

Ford made their name with the micro-indie, micro-focused “Test Pattern,” an act of upending as it dissected an interracial relationship’s fault lines in a moment of crisis. (It’s on the Criterion Channel now.) This time, with the drive of a born iconoclast, Ford sheds plot even further — save the loose construct of three besties in search of their absent fourth. What emerges, as the plot spans a North America whose inviting (or alienating) textures are attentively captured by cinematographer Ludovica Isidori, is an ode to the centering of chosen family when the realities of life, especially for people of color, always seem to demand soul-crushing acquiescence.

For creative writing professor Z (Denée Benton), recently let go from her Los Angeles-based university and uncertain about her future, a recurring dream featuring black-and-white imagery, a door and an enticing expanse of nature puts her in a journeying state of mind. Hopping to Brooklyn to connect with Tasha (Sasha Compère), a nervy consultant also recently shorn from her job, and Lauren (Dezi Bing), an emerging poet, this close-knit trio first decides to go dancing, then to seek out their celebrated artist pal Kel (Mars Storm Rucker), last heard from in the Midwest and who’s cut off all communication.

That framework, though, isn’t treated like some act-structured gauntlet in Ford’s telling. This is a road trip, after all, in that having a direction — to Pittsburgh, then Iowa City, Kansas City, Santa Fe and across the border — allows for some directionlessness, for different speeds, artful touches (conversations that become camera-facing interludes) and delicate epiphanies of feeling. The trio stops for a lively trans poetry reading. There’s a comically weird dinner with Kel’s ex, Sabrina (a scintillatingly eccentric Jasmin Savoy Brown). A stopover to see Kel’s parents (Regina Taylor and Robert Wisdom) illuminates, for better or worse, where some of these friends have come from and why moving forward matters.

In not adhering to the expected rules of conflict-based drama, “Dreams in Nightmares” can confound. But when you realize that this is exactly the point of Ford’s open-ended exploration, you begin to understand why Ford would rather create a roving, sensorial continuum that feeds intrigue (kudos to composer Ohyung) instead of cornering you. The performances bear that out, from Benton and Bing’s steady inner light to Compère’s coiled, watchful Tosha, a compelling portrait of skepticism inside this cocoon of warmth.

Yet of course, just when Tasha appears to be a fulcrum for narrative revelation, Ford re-balances everything, in waves of grace and gentleness, to remind us that sometimes the less we label, the more we’ll observe about the abiding importance of love and belonging. Ford has internalized the humanity of filmmakers like Mike Leigh, Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Jim Jarmusch. Even the most awkward parts of the film feel uniquely alive. But as “Dreams in Nightmares” wends its way to a close, it’s also easy to believe you’re witnessing a percolating virtuosity that’s all Ford’s own.

A special type of indie film teaches you how to see it as you watch it — not as an instructor might a student, but as an ally would a new acquaintance. Shatara Michelle Ford’s sophomore feature, “Dreams in Nightmares,” about a road trip, a friendship and a Black queer landscape anchored by care, has that quietly confident appeal, like being invited into something intimate, then let free when your curiosity is at its zenith.

Ford made their name with the micro-indie, micro-focused “Test Pattern,” an act of upending as it dissected an interracial relationship’s fault lines in a moment of crisis. (It’s on the Criterion Channel now.) This time, with the drive of a born iconoclast, Ford sheds plot even further — save the loose construct of three besties in search of their absent fourth. What emerges, as the plot spans a North America whose inviting (or alienating) textures are attentively captured by cinematographer Ludovica Isidori, is an ode to the centering of chosen family when the realities of life, especially for people of color, always seem to demand soul-crushing acquiescence.

For creative writing professor Z (Denée Benton), recently let go from her Los Angeles-based university and uncertain about her future, a recurring dream featuring black-and-white imagery, a door and an enticing expanse of nature puts her in a journeying state of mind. Hopping to Brooklyn to connect with Tasha (Sasha Compère), a nervy consultant also recently shorn from her job, and Lauren (Dezi Bing), an emerging poet, this close-knit trio first decides to go dancing, then to seek out their celebrated artist pal Kel (Mars Storm Rucker), last heard from in the Midwest and who’s cut off all communication.

That framework, though, isn’t treated like some act-structured gauntlet in Ford’s telling. This is a road trip, after all, in that having a direction — to Pittsburgh, then Iowa City, Kansas City, Santa Fe and across the border — allows for some directionlessness, for different speeds, artful touches (conversations that become camera-facing interludes) and delicate epiphanies of feeling. The trio stops for a lively trans poetry reading. There’s a comically weird dinner with Kel’s ex, Sabrina (a scintillatingly eccentric Jasmin Savoy Brown). A stopover to see Kel’s parents (Regina Taylor and Robert Wisdom) illuminates, for better or worse, where some of these friends have come from and why moving forward matters.

In not adhering to the expected rules of conflict-based drama, “Dreams in Nightmares” can confound. But when you realize that this is exactly the point of Ford’s open-ended exploration, you begin to understand why Ford would rather create a roving, sensorial continuum that feeds intrigue (kudos to composer Ohyung) instead of cornering you. The performances bear that out, from Benton and Bing’s steady inner light to Compère’s coiled, watchful Tosha, a compelling portrait of skepticism inside this cocoon of warmth.

Yet of course, just when Tasha appears to be a fulcrum for narrative revelation, Ford re-balances everything, in waves of grace and gentleness, to remind us that sometimes the less we label, the more we’ll observe about the abiding importance of love and belonging. Ford has internalized the humanity of filmmakers like Mike Leigh, Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Jim Jarmusch. Even the most awkward parts of the film feel uniquely alive. But as “Dreams in Nightmares” wends its way to a close, it’s also easy to believe you’re witnessing a percolating virtuosity that’s all Ford’s own.

A special type of indie film teaches you how to see it as you watch it — not as an instructor might a student, but as an ally would a new acquaintance. Shatara Michelle Ford’s sophomore feature, “Dreams in Nightmares,” about a road trip, a friendship and a Black queer landscape anchored by care, has that quietly confident appeal, like being invited into something intimate, then let free when your curiosity is at its zenith.

Ford made their name with the micro-indie, micro-focused “Test Pattern,” an act of upending as it dissected an interracial relationship’s fault lines in a moment of crisis. (It’s on the Criterion Channel now.) This time, with the drive of a born iconoclast, Ford sheds plot even further — save the loose construct of three besties in search of their absent fourth. What emerges, as the plot spans a North America whose inviting (or alienating) textures are attentively captured by cinematographer Ludovica Isidori, is an ode to the centering of chosen family when the realities of life, especially for people of color, always seem to demand soul-crushing acquiescence.

For creative writing professor Z (Denée Benton), recently let go from her Los Angeles-based university and uncertain about her future, a recurring dream featuring black-and-white imagery, a door and an enticing expanse of nature puts her in a journeying state of mind. Hopping to Brooklyn to connect with Tasha (Sasha Compère), a nervy consultant also recently shorn from her job, and Lauren (Dezi Bing), an emerging poet, this close-knit trio first decides to go dancing, then to seek out their celebrated artist pal Kel (Mars Storm Rucker), last heard from in the Midwest and who’s cut off all communication.

That framework, though, isn’t treated like some act-structured gauntlet in Ford’s telling. This is a road trip, after all, in that having a direction — to Pittsburgh, then Iowa City, Kansas City, Santa Fe and across the border — allows for some directionlessness, for different speeds, artful touches (conversations that become camera-facing interludes) and delicate epiphanies of feeling. The trio stops for a lively trans poetry reading. There’s a comically weird dinner with Kel’s ex, Sabrina (a scintillatingly eccentric Jasmin Savoy Brown). A stopover to see Kel’s parents (Regina Taylor and Robert Wisdom) illuminates, for better or worse, where some of these friends have come from and why moving forward matters.

In not adhering to the expected rules of conflict-based drama, “Dreams in Nightmares” can confound. But when you realize that this is exactly the point of Ford’s open-ended exploration, you begin to understand why Ford would rather create a roving, sensorial continuum that feeds intrigue (kudos to composer Ohyung) instead of cornering you. The performances bear that out, from Benton and Bing’s steady inner light to Compère’s coiled, watchful Tosha, a compelling portrait of skepticism inside this cocoon of warmth.

Yet of course, just when Tasha appears to be a fulcrum for narrative revelation, Ford re-balances everything, in waves of grace and gentleness, to remind us that sometimes the less we label, the more we’ll observe about the abiding importance of love and belonging. Ford has internalized the humanity of filmmakers like Mike Leigh, Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Jim Jarmusch. Even the most awkward parts of the film feel uniquely alive. But as “Dreams in Nightmares” wends its way to a close, it’s also easy to believe you’re witnessing a percolating virtuosity that’s all Ford’s own.

A special type of indie film teaches you how to see it as you watch it — not as an instructor might a student, but as an ally would a new acquaintance. Shatara Michelle Ford’s sophomore feature, “Dreams in Nightmares,” about a road trip, a friendship and a Black queer landscape anchored by care, has that quietly confident appeal, like being invited into something intimate, then let free when your curiosity is at its zenith.

Ford made their name with the micro-indie, micro-focused “Test Pattern,” an act of upending as it dissected an interracial relationship’s fault lines in a moment of crisis. (It’s on the Criterion Channel now.) This time, with the drive of a born iconoclast, Ford sheds plot even further — save the loose construct of three besties in search of their absent fourth. What emerges, as the plot spans a North America whose inviting (or alienating) textures are attentively captured by cinematographer Ludovica Isidori, is an ode to the centering of chosen family when the realities of life, especially for people of color, always seem to demand soul-crushing acquiescence.

For creative writing professor Z (Denée Benton), recently let go from her Los Angeles-based university and uncertain about her future, a recurring dream featuring black-and-white imagery, a door and an enticing expanse of nature puts her in a journeying state of mind. Hopping to Brooklyn to connect with Tasha (Sasha Compère), a nervy consultant also recently shorn from her job, and Lauren (Dezi Bing), an emerging poet, this close-knit trio first decides to go dancing, then to seek out their celebrated artist pal Kel (Mars Storm Rucker), last heard from in the Midwest and who’s cut off all communication.

That framework, though, isn’t treated like some act-structured gauntlet in Ford’s telling. This is a road trip, after all, in that having a direction — to Pittsburgh, then Iowa City, Kansas City, Santa Fe and across the border — allows for some directionlessness, for different speeds, artful touches (conversations that become camera-facing interludes) and delicate epiphanies of feeling. The trio stops for a lively trans poetry reading. There’s a comically weird dinner with Kel’s ex, Sabrina (a scintillatingly eccentric Jasmin Savoy Brown). A stopover to see Kel’s parents (Regina Taylor and Robert Wisdom) illuminates, for better or worse, where some of these friends have come from and why moving forward matters.

In not adhering to the expected rules of conflict-based drama, “Dreams in Nightmares” can confound. But when you realize that this is exactly the point of Ford’s open-ended exploration, you begin to understand why Ford would rather create a roving, sensorial continuum that feeds intrigue (kudos to composer Ohyung) instead of cornering you. The performances bear that out, from Benton and Bing’s steady inner light to Compère’s coiled, watchful Tosha, a compelling portrait of skepticism inside this cocoon of warmth.

Yet of course, just when Tasha appears to be a fulcrum for narrative revelation, Ford re-balances everything, in waves of grace and gentleness, to remind us that sometimes the less we label, the more we’ll observe about the abiding importance of love and belonging. Ford has internalized the humanity of filmmakers like Mike Leigh, Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Jim Jarmusch. Even the most awkward parts of the film feel uniquely alive. But as “Dreams in Nightmares” wends its way to a close, it’s also easy to believe you’re witnessing a percolating virtuosity that’s all Ford’s own.

A special type of indie film teaches you how to see it as you watch it — not as an instructor might a student, but as an ally would a new acquaintance. Shatara Michelle Ford’s sophomore feature, “Dreams in Nightmares,” about a road trip, a friendship and a Black queer landscape anchored by care, has that quietly confident appeal, like being invited into something intimate, then let free when your curiosity is at its zenith.

Ford made their name with the micro-indie, micro-focused “Test Pattern,” an act of upending as it dissected an interracial relationship’s fault lines in a moment of crisis. (It’s on the Criterion Channel now.) This time, with the drive of a born iconoclast, Ford sheds plot even further — save the loose construct of three besties in search of their absent fourth. What emerges, as the plot spans a North America whose inviting (or alienating) textures are attentively captured by cinematographer Ludovica Isidori, is an ode to the centering of chosen family when the realities of life, especially for people of color, always seem to demand soul-crushing acquiescence.

For creative writing professor Z (Denée Benton), recently let go from her Los Angeles-based university and uncertain about her future, a recurring dream featuring black-and-white imagery, a door and an enticing expanse of nature puts her in a journeying state of mind. Hopping to Brooklyn to connect with Tasha (Sasha Compère), a nervy consultant also recently shorn from her job, and Lauren (Dezi Bing), an emerging poet, this close-knit trio first decides to go dancing, then to seek out their celebrated artist pal Kel (Mars Storm Rucker), last heard from in the Midwest and who’s cut off all communication.

That framework, though, isn’t treated like some act-structured gauntlet in Ford’s telling. This is a road trip, after all, in that having a direction — to Pittsburgh, then Iowa City, Kansas City, Santa Fe and across the border — allows for some directionlessness, for different speeds, artful touches (conversations that become camera-facing interludes) and delicate epiphanies of feeling. The trio stops for a lively trans poetry reading. There’s a comically weird dinner with Kel’s ex, Sabrina (a scintillatingly eccentric Jasmin Savoy Brown). A stopover to see Kel’s parents (Regina Taylor and Robert Wisdom) illuminates, for better or worse, where some of these friends have come from and why moving forward matters.

In not adhering to the expected rules of conflict-based drama, “Dreams in Nightmares” can confound. But when you realize that this is exactly the point of Ford’s open-ended exploration, you begin to understand why Ford would rather create a roving, sensorial continuum that feeds intrigue (kudos to composer Ohyung) instead of cornering you. The performances bear that out, from Benton and Bing’s steady inner light to Compère’s coiled, watchful Tosha, a compelling portrait of skepticism inside this cocoon of warmth.

Yet of course, just when Tasha appears to be a fulcrum for narrative revelation, Ford re-balances everything, in waves of grace and gentleness, to remind us that sometimes the less we label, the more we’ll observe about the abiding importance of love and belonging. Ford has internalized the humanity of filmmakers like Mike Leigh, Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Jim Jarmusch. Even the most awkward parts of the film feel uniquely alive. But as “Dreams in Nightmares” wends its way to a close, it’s also easy to believe you’re witnessing a percolating virtuosity that’s all Ford’s own.

A special type of indie film teaches you how to see it as you watch it — not as an instructor might a student, but as an ally would a new acquaintance. Shatara Michelle Ford’s sophomore feature, “Dreams in Nightmares,” about a road trip, a friendship and a Black queer landscape anchored by care, has that quietly confident appeal, like being invited into something intimate, then let free when your curiosity is at its zenith.

Ford made their name with the micro-indie, micro-focused “Test Pattern,” an act of upending as it dissected an interracial relationship’s fault lines in a moment of crisis. (It’s on the Criterion Channel now.) This time, with the drive of a born iconoclast, Ford sheds plot even further — save the loose construct of three besties in search of their absent fourth. What emerges, as the plot spans a North America whose inviting (or alienating) textures are attentively captured by cinematographer Ludovica Isidori, is an ode to the centering of chosen family when the realities of life, especially for people of color, always seem to demand soul-crushing acquiescence.

For creative writing professor Z (Denée Benton), recently let go from her Los Angeles-based university and uncertain about her future, a recurring dream featuring black-and-white imagery, a door and an enticing expanse of nature puts her in a journeying state of mind. Hopping to Brooklyn to connect with Tasha (Sasha Compère), a nervy consultant also recently shorn from her job, and Lauren (Dezi Bing), an emerging poet, this close-knit trio first decides to go dancing, then to seek out their celebrated artist pal Kel (Mars Storm Rucker), last heard from in the Midwest and who’s cut off all communication.

That framework, though, isn’t treated like some act-structured gauntlet in Ford’s telling. This is a road trip, after all, in that having a direction — to Pittsburgh, then Iowa City, Kansas City, Santa Fe and across the border — allows for some directionlessness, for different speeds, artful touches (conversations that become camera-facing interludes) and delicate epiphanies of feeling. The trio stops for a lively trans poetry reading. There’s a comically weird dinner with Kel’s ex, Sabrina (a scintillatingly eccentric Jasmin Savoy Brown). A stopover to see Kel’s parents (Regina Taylor and Robert Wisdom) illuminates, for better or worse, where some of these friends have come from and why moving forward matters.

In not adhering to the expected rules of conflict-based drama, “Dreams in Nightmares” can confound. But when you realize that this is exactly the point of Ford’s open-ended exploration, you begin to understand why Ford would rather create a roving, sensorial continuum that feeds intrigue (kudos to composer Ohyung) instead of cornering you. The performances bear that out, from Benton and Bing’s steady inner light to Compère’s coiled, watchful Tosha, a compelling portrait of skepticism inside this cocoon of warmth.

Yet of course, just when Tasha appears to be a fulcrum for narrative revelation, Ford re-balances everything, in waves of grace and gentleness, to remind us that sometimes the less we label, the more we’ll observe about the abiding importance of love and belonging. Ford has internalized the humanity of filmmakers like Mike Leigh, Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Jim Jarmusch. Even the most awkward parts of the film feel uniquely alive. But as “Dreams in Nightmares” wends its way to a close, it’s also easy to believe you’re witnessing a percolating virtuosity that’s all Ford’s own.

A special type of indie film teaches you how to see it as you watch it — not as an instructor might a student, but as an ally would a new acquaintance. Shatara Michelle Ford’s sophomore feature, “Dreams in Nightmares,” about a road trip, a friendship and a Black queer landscape anchored by care, has that quietly confident appeal, like being invited into something intimate, then let free when your curiosity is at its zenith.

Ford made their name with the micro-indie, micro-focused “Test Pattern,” an act of upending as it dissected an interracial relationship’s fault lines in a moment of crisis. (It’s on the Criterion Channel now.) This time, with the drive of a born iconoclast, Ford sheds plot even further — save the loose construct of three besties in search of their absent fourth. What emerges, as the plot spans a North America whose inviting (or alienating) textures are attentively captured by cinematographer Ludovica Isidori, is an ode to the centering of chosen family when the realities of life, especially for people of color, always seem to demand soul-crushing acquiescence.

For creative writing professor Z (Denée Benton), recently let go from her Los Angeles-based university and uncertain about her future, a recurring dream featuring black-and-white imagery, a door and an enticing expanse of nature puts her in a journeying state of mind. Hopping to Brooklyn to connect with Tasha (Sasha Compère), a nervy consultant also recently shorn from her job, and Lauren (Dezi Bing), an emerging poet, this close-knit trio first decides to go dancing, then to seek out their celebrated artist pal Kel (Mars Storm Rucker), last heard from in the Midwest and who’s cut off all communication.

That framework, though, isn’t treated like some act-structured gauntlet in Ford’s telling. This is a road trip, after all, in that having a direction — to Pittsburgh, then Iowa City, Kansas City, Santa Fe and across the border — allows for some directionlessness, for different speeds, artful touches (conversations that become camera-facing interludes) and delicate epiphanies of feeling. The trio stops for a lively trans poetry reading. There’s a comically weird dinner with Kel’s ex, Sabrina (a scintillatingly eccentric Jasmin Savoy Brown). A stopover to see Kel’s parents (Regina Taylor and Robert Wisdom) illuminates, for better or worse, where some of these friends have come from and why moving forward matters.

In not adhering to the expected rules of conflict-based drama, “Dreams in Nightmares” can confound. But when you realize that this is exactly the point of Ford’s open-ended exploration, you begin to understand why Ford would rather create a roving, sensorial continuum that feeds intrigue (kudos to composer Ohyung) instead of cornering you. The performances bear that out, from Benton and Bing’s steady inner light to Compère’s coiled, watchful Tosha, a compelling portrait of skepticism inside this cocoon of warmth.

Yet of course, just when Tasha appears to be a fulcrum for narrative revelation, Ford re-balances everything, in waves of grace and gentleness, to remind us that sometimes the less we label, the more we’ll observe about the abiding importance of love and belonging. Ford has internalized the humanity of filmmakers like Mike Leigh, Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Jim Jarmusch. Even the most awkward parts of the film feel uniquely alive. But as “Dreams in Nightmares” wends its way to a close, it’s also easy to believe you’re witnessing a percolating virtuosity that’s all Ford’s own.

A special type of indie film teaches you how to see it as you watch it — not as an instructor might a student, but as an ally would a new acquaintance. Shatara Michelle Ford’s sophomore feature, “Dreams in Nightmares,” about a road trip, a friendship and a Black queer landscape anchored by care, has that quietly confident appeal, like being invited into something intimate, then let free when your curiosity is at its zenith.

Ford made their name with the micro-indie, micro-focused “Test Pattern,” an act of upending as it dissected an interracial relationship’s fault lines in a moment of crisis. (It’s on the Criterion Channel now.) This time, with the drive of a born iconoclast, Ford sheds plot even further — save the loose construct of three besties in search of their absent fourth. What emerges, as the plot spans a North America whose inviting (or alienating) textures are attentively captured by cinematographer Ludovica Isidori, is an ode to the centering of chosen family when the realities of life, especially for people of color, always seem to demand soul-crushing acquiescence.

For creative writing professor Z (Denée Benton), recently let go from her Los Angeles-based university and uncertain about her future, a recurring dream featuring black-and-white imagery, a door and an enticing expanse of nature puts her in a journeying state of mind. Hopping to Brooklyn to connect with Tasha (Sasha Compère), a nervy consultant also recently shorn from her job, and Lauren (Dezi Bing), an emerging poet, this close-knit trio first decides to go dancing, then to seek out their celebrated artist pal Kel (Mars Storm Rucker), last heard from in the Midwest and who’s cut off all communication.

That framework, though, isn’t treated like some act-structured gauntlet in Ford’s telling. This is a road trip, after all, in that having a direction — to Pittsburgh, then Iowa City, Kansas City, Santa Fe and across the border — allows for some directionlessness, for different speeds, artful touches (conversations that become camera-facing interludes) and delicate epiphanies of feeling. The trio stops for a lively trans poetry reading. There’s a comically weird dinner with Kel’s ex, Sabrina (a scintillatingly eccentric Jasmin Savoy Brown). A stopover to see Kel’s parents (Regina Taylor and Robert Wisdom) illuminates, for better or worse, where some of these friends have come from and why moving forward matters.

In not adhering to the expected rules of conflict-based drama, “Dreams in Nightmares” can confound. But when you realize that this is exactly the point of Ford’s open-ended exploration, you begin to understand why Ford would rather create a roving, sensorial continuum that feeds intrigue (kudos to composer Ohyung) instead of cornering you. The performances bear that out, from Benton and Bing’s steady inner light to Compère’s coiled, watchful Tosha, a compelling portrait of skepticism inside this cocoon of warmth.

Yet of course, just when Tasha appears to be a fulcrum for narrative revelation, Ford re-balances everything, in waves of grace and gentleness, to remind us that sometimes the less we label, the more we’ll observe about the abiding importance of love and belonging. Ford has internalized the humanity of filmmakers like Mike Leigh, Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Jim Jarmusch. Even the most awkward parts of the film feel uniquely alive. But as “Dreams in Nightmares” wends its way to a close, it’s also easy to believe you’re witnessing a percolating virtuosity that’s all Ford’s own.