Anniversary Review – Diane Lane and Kyle Chandler Anchor a Chilling Family Drama About Power, Politics, and Control

In Anniversary, director Jan Komasa turns the concept of political dystopia into something disturbingly personal. Rather than depicting collapsing cities or violent coups, his film examines how authoritarianism seeps into ordinary homes — through charm, family ties, and carefully crafted slogans.

The movie, Komasa’s English-language follow-up to Corpus Christi and The Hater, is at once intimate and unsettling, exploring how one family’s seemingly idyllic life becomes entangled with a rising political movement known only as The Change. What makes it most effective — and terrifying — is its refusal to explain everything. Like the best speculative dramas, Anniversary trusts ambiguity to do the haunting.

The Bottom Line:

A slow-burn political nightmare viewed through the eyes of a family losing its sense of truth.

Release Date: October 29
Cast: Diane Lane, Kyle Chandler, Phoebe Dynevor, Madeline Brewer, Zoey Deutch, Mckenna Grace, Daryl McCormack, Dylan O’Brien, Sky Yang
Director: Jan Komasa
Writer: Lori Rosene-Gambino
Running Time: 1h 51m

The Family Next Door to Fascism

The story centers on Ellen and Paul Taylor (Lane and Chandler), a comfortably liberal couple living in a Virginia suburb just outside Washington, D.C. Ellen teaches political theory at Georgetown, while Paul runs a successful restaurant. They are the kind of couple that embodies stability — the sort of people who compost, read The Atlantic, and host elegant backyard dinners.

As the film opens, the Taylors are celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary with their four children and a circle of friends. The night feels warm and real, full of teasing and shared affection — the kind of intimacy Komasa captures so well before he methodically dismantles it. But among the guests is an unexpected newcomer: Liz Nettles (Phoebe Dynevor), the new girlfriend of their son Josh (Dylan O’Brien) — and a former student of Ellen’s.

Ellen immediately senses something off about Liz. Polite to a fault, with a calm yet eerie intensity, Liz radiates the kind of quiet control that suggests calculation. Her presence alone tilts the tone from celebration to quiet unease.

The Birth of “The Change”

Over time, Liz publishes a dense manifesto titled The Change: The New Social Contract under the banner of the mysterious “Cumberland Company.” It’s marketed as a plan to unite the country through a “no-party system,” but its rhetoric is pure doublespeak. Freedom and conformity become interchangeable ideas. Within a few years, The Change has transformed from a viral book into a mass political movement.

When Komasa jumps the story two years ahead, Josh and Liz are married, expecting twins, and living like royalty. The once-earnest son has turned smug and controlling, and the Taylors’ Thanksgiving dinner becomes a battlefield of unspoken resentment and ideology. Lane’s performance as Ellen — a woman too intelligent to ignore what’s happening and too human to handle it gracefully — is superb. Her contempt for Liz bubbles under every smile and every sip of wine.

Meanwhile, Paul (Chandler, in one of his most restrained and touching performances) tries to keep the peace, clinging to the idea that “there are no sides” even as his family fractures around him.

Sisters Divided

The film also thrives on its ensemble dynamic. The Taylors’ daughters — played by Madeline Brewer, Zoey Deutch, and Mckenna Grace — represent different responses to the country’s moral decay. Brewer’s Anne is a sharp-tongued comedian using satire as protest; Deutch’s Cynthia hides cynicism behind humor and denial; and Grace’s Birdie, still in high school, becomes the conscience of the film — the one willing to resist when everyone else grows too tired or comfortable.

Through these women, Komasa turns a political thriller into a generational story about complacency and courage. Birdie’s quiet rebellion with her anxious friend Moses (Sky Yang) — sneaking off to protests under drone-filled skies — is both heartbreaking and hopeful.

A Family Drama Disguised as a Dystopia

What makes Anniversary so potent is how little it explains. Komasa never spells out what “The Change” truly is — instead, he shows its fingerprints: new flags with centralized stars, omnipresent drones, smiling census agents who seem more like androids than people. The result feels frighteningly believable. This isn’t a world that collapses overnight; it’s one that erodes, slowly, with manners intact.

O’Brien delivers one of his strongest performances to date as Josh, whose transformation from awkward writer to cold enforcer mirrors the film’s shift from domestic unease to quiet horror. His scenes with Chandler — especially a late confrontation where Josh tries to “recruit” his father — are electric.

Craft and Atmosphere

Komasa’s direction is elegant and deliberate. Working with cinematographer Piotr Sobońciski Jr., he crafts a visual language that evolves with the story: bright, natural light during the anniversary party; muted interiors as paranoia creeps in; and finally sterile, surveillance-style shots as freedom disappears. The production design by Lucy Van Lonkhuyzen turns the Taylors’ house into a symbolic structure — once a sanctuary, later a cage.

Lorna Marie Mugan’s costumes subtly trace the family’s transformation, and the soundtrack’s recurring use of Crowded House’s “Don’t Dream It’s Over” gives the film a haunting, melancholic pulse — both defiant and defeated.

With its slow-burn tension and perfectly calibrated performances, Anniversary is less a traditional political thriller than a mirror held up to a culture that mistakes comfort for safety. Komasa and screenwriter Lori Rosene-Gambino understand that tyranny doesn’t always march in boots — sometimes, it smiles over dinner and calls itself family.

Sly, unnerving, and superbly acted, Anniversary turns domestic life into a stage for creeping authoritarianism — a reminder that when democracy fades, it often starts around the table, not in the streets.