“Who wants to live forever,
Forever is our today,
Who waits forever anyway?”– “Who Wants to Live Forever” by Queen
What does it mean to live forever and what does it say about those who seek it? For some, it means the literal concept of immortality wherein characters of both fiction and reality seek any means necessary to put a stopper on one’s biological clock, to cease the degradation of one’s genes. It reeks of hubris, of a sense of importance that clouds judgement and defies the natural order. Figuratively, however, to live forever is to be remembered, to have something of themselves carry on after they’re six feet under, returned to ash, or, (as in my case) perhaps donated to a Shakespearean production. This can be found through burning one’s name into history through word or deed, but it can also be cultivated through the continuance of one’s line (biologically or ideologically). Ultimately, however, it all comes down to one simple thing: has one lived a life of meaning so that someone, somewhere, holds you in their heart forever? For his third film, writer/director Rob Burnett delves into this question through the tragicomic In Memoriam, having its world premiere in the Spotlight Narrative section of Tribeca Film Festival 2026. Balancing acerbic comedy and frank drama, In Memoriam initially seems to be an all-too-specific series of Hollywood-related jokes, allowing the universality to creep up and surprise you.
Fourteen years since the conclusion of his sitcom, former star of stage and screen Langston Stanfield (Marc Maron) works as a guest on various programs, unable to make the leap back to the #1 stop on the call sheet despite dazzling in his scene work. When he receives a terminal cancer diagnosis with roughly six months to live, he sets forth to ensure that he’ll be included in the next “In Memoriam” segment at the Oscars. Doing so is going to require calling in old favors as well as reconnecting with those he has left behind, forcing the vainglorious bastard to reevaluate his entire life.
While one doesn’t like to deal in comparisons, there’s a certain amusement that In Memoriam shares a similar narrative arc as last year’s Noah Baumbach dramedy Jay Kelly. In it, an aging movie star travels backward through his life as he uses the excuse of an award to follow his youngest daughter to Europe. This is a repeated joke within In Memoriam which, to explain more, would delve into spoiler territory as much of the fun of Burnett’s tragicomedy is the way it lambasts the very nature of celebrity for the fickle and ephemeral aspects that construct it. Rather than the affable George Clooney (Jay Kelly) in the lead, this story focuses on comedian/actor Marc Maron, whose work in projects like Maron (2013-2016), GLOW (2017 – 2019), and The Bad Guys films, tends to lean more toward the caustic and combative, enabling the audience to buy-in immediately that Langston is a self-important, insular figure. Burnett smartly opens the film with Langston at work, a moment that helps to transition anyone less familiar with Maron’s dramatic presence into believing that Langston *is as good* as everyone says. This is necessary because we need to believe as much as Langston that his talent deserves the recognition, especially when Langston’s personality is the barrier for interpersonal success and the primary obstacle that he must overcome. It’s one thing to be told that a character is charismatic, it’s another thing to have them actually be that way. It’s what makes Clooney’s performance as Jay Kelly so affecting because the audience can see the public persona of the actor in the character he plays. Here, if Langston were to believe his hype without producing any, the endeavor would appear quixotic instead, preventing the comedy from landing effectively and blocking any emotional resonance entirely.
L-R: Marc Maron as Langston and Talia Ryder as Maura in IN MEMORIAM. Photo courtesy of Tribeca Film Festival.
When it comes to comedy, Burnett’s got the bona fides. Before writing and directing features We Made This Movie (2012) and The Fundamentals of Caring (2016), he was an award-winning producer for Late Show with David Letterman (1994 – 2015) and Strangers with Candy (2005), among others. All of this comes to bear in In Memoriam as Burnett fills his film with one comedic talent after another, whether it’s Michael McKean (Clue) as Walter, Langston’s longtime manager; Camille Chen (Game Night) as Dr. Banta, who tries to treat Langston’s cancer; Judy Greer (Chili Finger) as Chelsea, Langston’s ex and mother of his only child; Justin Long (Accepted) as Jack Stackhouse, an influencer-turned-actor; or Sharon Stone (The Disaster Artist) as Vicky Cash, another Langston ex. Because of this, Maron has someone to play with in each scene who understands the value of timing in both comedy and drama, generating a feeling of moments in life instead of read from a page, each player matching the pitch and tone of the reality in which they exist and requiring that others meet them either in conflict or harmony. This makes In Memoriam retain a sense of grounding that it needs as we join Langston on his quest to join the “In Memoriam” segment and, in his view, cement his legacy as someone important.
There’s a certain amount of predictability within In Memoriam, but it’s the way that it wields the expectations that elicits emotion both from the characters and the audience. We know from the outset that Langston’s journey is all about self-reflection and the mistakes he’s made in the past coming to bite him in the ass, less his actions which gave him cancer and more as the fallout that is placing his new-quest in danger. While there are films in which the protagonist doesn’t change, that’s not the story that Burnett is telling. The growth is what matters here in conveying the intention that awards and recognition matter in the moment yet have less to do with actual longevity, with actual legacy. They are impermanent in the way that each accolade is swept away in the next awards season. Sure, the winner gets to hold the certificate, the statue, or the title, but then it’s redistributed the next year. This is where so much of the drama comes from as Langston, through therapy sessions with a specialist portrayed with grace and gravitas by Oscar-nominee Lily Gladstone (Killers of the Flower Moon), gets the pushes he needs to reframe his existence and perception of permanence. With a film that generously gives Maron multiple talented scene partners, it’s his work with Gladstone and Stone that make the greatest impact due to both the individual talents of the actors and their combined might to take the cruel absurdity of life and make it something that one can joke about. It’s a survival technique, to be sure, but it’s one that reminds us that while pain may be natural to the human experience, so is laugher, and to be able to do so in the throes of existential transformation is what makes humanity resilient. Where In Memoriam draws its best strength is the way that it pulls all of this together — the laugher, the pain, the predictability — and delivers a conclusion that satisfies the internal needs of the characters and those of the audience, even if we don’t get them the way we expect. It’s that surprise delivery that makes In Memoriam impactful and resonant, dodging the full-weighted anchor that predictability often assails a narrative with, destroying any emotional heft in the process.
Admittedly, as someone who’s a fan of films like Hollywood Shuffle (1987), The Player (1992), and Tropic Thunder (2008), Burnett’s In Memoriam already has me one-foot in for it because of the way it uses a cavalcade of established talent to skewer the ridiculousness of the Hollywood machine from the false adulation that can exist between manager and client, the influencer-to-actor pipeline, the perception of self built upon the need for adulation, and the backroom deals that seek to manipulate public perception. Movie making is about generating a believable fantasy while acknowledging that it’s all a fallacy, which is why films like this are so damned funny. However, Burnett doesn’t ever forget that this is a human-driven piece and Maron’s never been better, even when in scenes with titans of the industry, not only holding his own but finding ways to share the light.
There’s more that could be said about In Memoriam in a more spoiler-filled piece, one which dives into the way Burnett delicately weaves in the parental aspect of the tale as a slowly-growing significant piece of the narrative, or how Burnett both uplifts the act of art creation through community theater and busking while simultaneously calling out the bullshit of fame. This is a storyteller who has seen a lot of the industry and so much of it comes out here as Langston wrestles with the kind of life he’s lived and what he’ll leave behind. In terms of legacy, Burnett’s story reminds me of a quote I stumbled across online that speaks of people’s desire to go back in time to change the future, but no one acknowledges that you can do that right now by making a new choice in the present. It takes a terminal diagnosis for Langston to learn this lesson. May In Memoriam be a guiding light for others who still need to learn that today is your day to make your future what you want it to be. Forever is impossible to reach, but today is at your fingertips.
Screening during Tribeca Film Festival 2026.
For more information, head to the official Tribeca Film Festival In Memoriam webpage.
Final Score: 4.5 out of 5.
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Categories: Films To Watch, In Theaters, Recommendation, Reviews
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