Take Me Home, 2026.
Written and Directed by Liz Sargent.
Starring Anna Sargent, Ali Ahn, Victor Slezak, Marceline Hugot, Shane Harper, April Matthis, and Shannon DeVido.
SYNOPSIS:
Anna cares for her aging parents in a fragile balance of meeting one another’s needs. When a Florida heat wave shatters their family and Anna’s routine, her future is uncertain until she creates a world where she can thrive.
Writer/director Liz Sargent’s Take Me Home is primarily centered on the hardships of living with a cognitive disability and the demanding yet sensitive amount of care that is required. At some point, though, everyone, including nondisabled peoples needs caretaking.
Playing a version of herself, Anna Sargent’s Anna, naturally treated as a character more than a disability (it also helps that the director expanding on the original short film is her sister, with some of the dialogue taken from real life experiences), whether it be singing along to music or expressing an interest in guys (or watching sexual material online), is also 38 years old which means her adoptive parents Bob and Joan (played by Victor Slezak and Marceline Hugot in such warm and grounded slice-of-life performances) are also getting up there in age, meaning that everyone has a hand in looking after one another.
It’s a system that’s mostly working, even with Anna’s older, nondisabled sister, Emily (Ali Ahn), away, working and living her own life with her boyfriend. It is also made clear that Joan is not only the patient one, but the glue holding this team together. If something sends Anna into a hysterical fit (routines being altered or anything involving change typically trigger this, such as not being able to find the water bottle she sleeps with every night), this nonbiological mother doesn’t necessarily always have the answer, even if there is a sense that she understands these moods and what to do or if it will ride itself out. She also assists Anna with her showers; convincing her to take one in the first place is a tall order, since part of the change involves literally changing clothing, even when told she will start smelling funky.
After an in-depth look at day-to-day life, from peaceful moments and connectivity to strenuous ones, the film dismantles that system to ask what happens when the primary caretaker of the disabled individual is no longer in the picture. Anna’s sister Emily returns to help navigate this period of change and set up a new system (Medicaid proves to be unhelpful, and one can only assume this will become a trend in American films going forward), but even that relief is only temporary, as she has a life to get back to.
It’s also not that Bob doesn’t care about Anna, but rather that he is drastically unprepared for this sudden change, has clearly never been the one doing much of the physical and more mentally draining caretaking, and seems to be experiencing memory impairment (she has to help him remember passwords, among other things). Movingly, the film becomes about finding a way for both of these people to forge a path forward, all while Anna grieves (her understanding of the permanence of death also appears stunted, which complicates that aspect), grows restless with an adoptive father who tries but doesn’t understand her, and maybe never has. This leads to her hanging out with some drunken neighbors and playing games typically attached to intoxication, such as beer pong; it’s the type of moment that feels like a dark narrative turn is around the corner, but these men are genuinely accepting of her and her condition.
As said, it is emotional at times to observe this family dynamic at a crossroads, not knowing what comes next, but there are also elements that feel underexplored. It’s entirely valid that when asked what led Bob and Joan to adopt a child with a cognitive disability (and if or how her and her sister being Korean played into not only the decision but their upbringing and life as a family) in the first place, he responds that no other explanation is owed other than that they had love to give. That still doesn’t stop the film from feeling like it’s leaving something on the table by not really letting us get to know these people beyond the tumultuous circumstances they find themselves in.
The extended epilogue also arrives abruptly and comes across as far too hopeful and positive, perhaps more like how we would like stories like this to end, yet most of the time don’t in real life. In going for that ultra-happy ending (which, admittedly, comes with one devastating choice and consequence), Take Me Home comes up short in really delving into the problems with healthcare. Instead, it offers a loophole that borders on discovering paradise. It is unquestionably authentically portrayed and lived-in with a vital perspective and approach to different forms of caretaking, but it is occasionally aimless and takes one too many narrative shortcuts.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder
