There’s something both comforting and quietly disarming about a film that tackles the idea of “family” without sentimentality or moral lessons. Adult Children, which opened the Round Top Film Festival 2025, does exactly that. Written by Annika Marks and directed by her husband, Rich Newey, the film finds humor and heartbreak in equal measure as it examines how growing older doesn’t necessarily mean growing up.
The story centers on 17-year-old Morgan (Ella Rubin), the youngest of four half-siblings, who unexpectedly spends a summer at home with her three much-older siblings—Lisa (Betsy Brandt), Dahlia (Aya Cash), and Josh (Thomas Sadoski)—after their mother Mimi (Mimi Rogers) leaves for a trip. Josh’s latest crisis disrupts everyone’s plans. What starts as a reluctant family reunion turns into a reluctant reckoning, one that only happens when everyone’s stuck under the same roof long enough to run out of small talk.
What impressed me most was how Adult Children addressed serious subjects—addiction, resentment, and the lingering wounds of family—with a dry, dark humor that feels natural. It doesn’t lean too heavily into heavy drama or overly rely on snappy indie comedy. Instead, it finds a middle ground, in that familiar space where laughter and pain coexist. Anyone who’s experienced a family dinner that shifted from laughter to shouting in a minute will understand the rhythm here.
The performances are outstanding across the board. Sadoski’s Josh, a man trying to convince himself he’s doing fine, walks a fine line between charm and self-sabotage. Brandt and Cash add nuance to their roles as sisters balancing frustration and love, and Rubin holds her own against them—wide-eyed but quietly observant, she becomes the film’s anchor. Through Morgan’s eyes, we see these adults crumble, deflect, and gradually come to terms with their own immaturity.
Visually, the film’s sunlit suburban setting is almost ironic. The brightness and warmth of the family home sharply contrast with the dysfunction simmering beneath its surface. Newey directs with confidence, allowing the actors room to breathe while using sharp, television-like pacing that keeps the story light, even when it explores darker themes.
By the end, Adult Children doesn’t promise neat resolutions. It simply allows its characters—and its audience—to sit with the truth that being an adult often involves pretending to have answers you don’t. I left Festival Hill that night thinking about how the film finds humor in disappointment and tenderness in chaos. It’s a smart, bittersweet reminder that family will always be complicated, and sometimes that’s exactly what keeps us connected.
Opening the festival with Adult Children felt right—it set the tone for a weekend that celebrated heartfelt storytelling, honesty, and a touch of messy humanity.