I’ll be honest. I am not a parent, and the idea of becoming one in the near future does not appeal to me at all, especially given the state of the world today. And after watching Josephine at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival, I am more confident in that decision. Writer/director Beth de Araújo crafted a feature that I can only imagine is one of the most terrifying experiences and conversations a parent could have with their child… A conversation about rape.
De Araújo, who is no stranger to depicting violence on screen as seen in her directorial debut Soft & Quiet, returns to the festival circuit with a film that stems from personal experience. Within the first fifteen minutes in Josephine, the titular character, an 8-year-old girl (Mason Reeves), witnesses a violent sexual assault in Golden Gate Park. She had previously been on a run with her father Damien (Channing Tatum) as part of their standard morning routine. Upon separation, Josephine stumbles upon the location of the crime, frozen in time, behind a tree, forced to look on helplessly.
Beth de Araújo’s confident filmmaking yield a gut-wrenching yet empathetic portrait of perspective.
While traumatic for any 8-year-old to witness, de Araújo shows enough to get the point across but remains conservative on the details. Instead, she uses her camera to focus more on Josephine—a great decision that jumpstarts the deeply unnerving and traumatic journey that the young girl will be forced to go on. As she weaves us through trauma from a child’s perspective, de Araújo rightfully explores the themes of inherent goodness, consent, and even responsibility to report.
Processing what she has witnessed is not easy for Josephine (“Jo”), especially with the fear of being attacked herself while also not having a clear understanding of consent versus rape. This is thanks to an awkward encounter with her father and mother (Gemma Chan) later in the film. To make matters worse, but to de Araújo’s wondrous skill as an effective storyteller, Josepine often processes what happened by herself simply because her parents cannot come to an agreement on how to help her. During these moments, the attacker (a chilling Philip Ettinger) appears on screen, haunting Jo’s every thought when she’s left alone or left to gather her thoughts.
With almost every scene, de Araújo reminds us that it takes only one moment to force a child to learn ugly things about the world sooner than we’d like them to. Further, it forces parents and guardians to have realistic conversations about how evil can happen in life, even if we do everything we’re supposed to do. The result is a devastating yet empathetic compilation of heavy emotions, escalated by Greta Zozula’s precise and well-defined cinematography. I imagine that any parent curious about this film has one question on their mind: how would I help my kid through this situation? Again, I’m not a parent, but I’m imagining the protection of their innocence as a top priority.
But that’s what makes Josephine such an enormous feat. You don’t have to actually be a parent to feel the weight of the script. Even when we first observe Josephine learn what rape means after she googles it on her mother’s phone, there’s a deep despair that pairs with this moment. Because we, the audience, know what comes with that knowledge (especially after witnessing it up close): a loss of innocence, a general fear of men, and a hefty worry that it will one day happen to you.
Josephine‘s empathy demands are heavy-hitting.
As the film progresses, we see a concerning shift in Josephine’s behavior, though it’s not at all shocking. Her parents’ reactions as a result stir up fascinating commentary about the right approach towards helping a child through this. The options, almost perfectly juxtaposed, only further showcase Beth de Araújo’s brilliance as a filmmaker. What is the right approach for this situation? Do you sideline the consequences of bearing witness to such a violent crime to protect the child from further trauma? Or do you pack their mind with defense mechanisms in order to relinquish their fear of what can happen?
Of course, these aren’t the only options, but they are wonderfully explored throughout the film, paving the way for us to empathize with both parents. To that end, Tatum and Chan give rock-solid performances as Jo’s parents. Where Tatum brings nuanced strength and appropriately placed rage, Chan ushers in a quiet strength in empathy and understands that choosing what to do after is challenging either way. Finally, newcomer Mason Reeves is so remarkable. Most of her performance rides on the moments when she doesn’t speak, and she absolutely nails every scene.
In short, Josephine will fuel you with heartbreak, empathy, and rage thanks to a haunting script that is basically the recipe for a parent’s nightmare. This super combo of emotions is what many of us women have felt when it comes to the film’s central topic. Yet, it has rarely been explored from a child’s vantage point in film. This is a coming-of-age story, helmed by a confident filmmaker, that holds off on the first-time kisses and awkward puberty stages. Instead, it jumps straight into the dark reality that for some children, innocence is lost way too early.
