“I came here to be with you…” It's barely a whisper in the trailer, but it lands like a gut punch. That line—delivered by Mexican ballet dancer Fernando (Isaac Hernández)—isn't just romantic. It's a warning.
Michel Franco is back, and he's not here to make anyone comfortable.
Premiering earlier this year at the 2025 Berlin Film Festival and now screening at Karlovy Vary, Dreams is Franco's latest narrative grenade. It stars Jessica Chastain as Jennifer, a high-society philanthropist whose gilded world begins to crack when Fernando, her lover from Mexico, risks everything to cross the border and join her. But when he arrives, the dream she sold him becomes something colder. Something curated. Something… hers.
The trailer, freshly released from Karlovy Vary's international spotlight, is deceptively calm—quiet piano notes, warm lighting, slow-motion glimpses of bodies moving through space. But that stillness hides a storm.
Because this isn't just a romance. It's a reckoning.
What Happens When Love Crosses a Line?
Let's be real: stories about migration often fall into two camps—suffering porn or simplistic uplift. Dreams isn't either. Franco's take feels morally murky, grounded in bodily risk and emotional manipulation. Fernando doesn't just leave Mexico; he nearly dies trying to reach Jennifer. And what greets him isn't a welcome mat. It's glass walls, veiled glances, and quiet control.
Chastain—once again working with Franco after Memory—moves like a woman used to orchestrating outcomes, not receiving them. She's all poise and Prada, but you get the sense she's two glasses of wine away from a breakdown. The way she brushes Fernando's cheek while scanning the room behind him? It's not love. It's possession.
And Isaac Hernández—real-life ballet star turned breakout actor—plays Fernando like a man trying to pirouette across quicksand. Every movement is precise, but the ground beneath him keeps shifting.
There's a shot in the trailer where he's dancing in a pristine, sunlit studio while Chastain watches from the doorway. It's beautiful. It's intimate. And it's deeply unnerving. Who's being admired? Who's being assessed?
Franco's Class Warfare Never Sleeps
Franco's been here before. New Order, Sundown, Memory—his films peel back the veneer of civility to expose the class rot underneath. With Dreams, he doubles down. But this time, the border isn't just geographical—it's emotional. It's racial. It's about who gets to dream and who gets commodified in the process.
And if that sounds too heavy, don't worry—Franco's not preachy. He's surgical. You don't leave his films angry at one person. You leave wondering how many Jennifers you know in real life. Or how many times you've been one.
The Bigger Picture—and the Bigger Questions
Dreams has no confirmed U.S. release date yet, but it opens in Mexico this October. And it deserves the widest audience possible. Not because it's perfect—but because it asks questions we keep avoiding:
What do we owe the people we “lift up”?
Is love enough to bridge a power gap?
Can you ever really enter someone's world without destroying it?
I've seen the film, and let me tell you—it doesn't flinch. There are moments that will frustrate you. One scene, in particular, had the entire Berlinale audience holding their breath. (No spoilers, but it involves a dinner party, a phone call, and a very slow walk down a hallway.)
Franco's saying something urgent here. About borders. About fantasy. About the cost of being someone else's dream.
So watch the trailer. Let it simmer. And then ask yourself—what kind of world do you really live in?
