Sundance 2026: ‘Run Amok’ Uses a High School Musical to Confront the Afterlife of School Violence and the Messy Work of Grief

Alyssa Marvin in Run Amok by NB Mager, an official selection of the 2026 Sundance Film Festival. (Courtesy of Sundance Institute / photo by Tandem Pictures)

This is one in a series of film reviews from the 2026 Sundance Film Festival, focused on films by women, trans or nonbinary directors that tell compelling stories about the lives of women and girls.


A girl drags what looks like a coffin down a suburban street. She’s trying to get to school, but her cousin, embarrassed, has refused to give her a ride. Undeterred, the girl slogs along, gratefully accepting a ride a few minutes later from her music teacher, who tells her, “Your mom would have gotten a kick out of this.” The coffin, in fact, is just a case holding a full-sized harp, which protagonist Meg (Alyssa Marvin) insists on bringing back and forth with her to school. These are the opening minutes of Run Amok, a drama from Sundance’s U.S. competition, a debut feature written and directed by NB Mager, that notably and earnestly oscillates between quirky moments of comedy and profound reflections on how to navigate grief.

Meg’s harp, and its initial macabre appearance, serves as the perfect metaphor for her character. A sincere and upbeat high school freshman, Meg is nevertheless burdened by a great loss in her past, one which also haunts her school: Ten years ago, a former student opened fire, killing several classmates, a police officer, and one teacher, Meg’s mother. Meg doesn’t remember the day because she was so small, but everything about her life—from growing up living with her aunt, uncle and cousin Penny (Sophia Torres), to the fact that everyone at school knows what happened but doesn’t talk to her about it—is a reminder anyway. 

Rather than dwell in darkness, however, Run Amok is surprisingly yet respectfully light, patiently opening a space for Meg to explore her feelings and for those around her to navigate them with her.

When the school librarian tells her about the idea of catharsis as a way to purge negative emotions, Meg determines to write a musical for the 10th anniversary of the shooting. And even though Penny is a popular lacrosse player who’s been recently trying to distance herself from her “weird” younger cousin, Meg’s enthusiasm for the project soon draws her in, too. In fact, the formerly isolated Meg slowly gathers a small following of other students, her cast, each of whom dedicates themself to the project in their own unique way. 

Determined to reenact the day of the shooting, but with accompanying songs and monologues that ask her fellow students to consider the motivations of their characters—from victims like Meg’s mother, to the heroic teacher who saved the day, to the shooter himself—Meg butts up against the concerns of her music teacher Mr. Shelby (Patrick Wilson) and the incredulity of the school’s principal (Margaret Cho). Even as Meg fights to get a green light for her unusual production, it’s clear everyone needs some kind of release. The teachers already carry guns stocked with rubber bullets, and, as the anniversary approaches and tensions rise, the PTA grows increasingly militant.  

It’s actually quite refreshing that Run Amok never settles into a genre; it’s part coming-of-age, part drama, part satire, part socio-political indictment of U.S. gun culture, and part backstage high school musical. This serves the subject matter well, since neither the teens nor the adults have any idea how to negotiate their trauma around an event that most of them have tried to bury and forget—or didn’t even directly witness.

What’s more, although some scenes border on the deliberately absurd, the actors’ sincerity (Marvin especially) refuses to give viewers the easy out of reading the film as camp.  

While Mr. Shelby and the principal hope that the anniversary performance will provide everyone with closure and a sense of “safety and security,” Meg begins to question whether that can ever be possible. Perhaps things need to be unsettled. Perhaps not everything has to make sense. 

These feelings are only amplified when Meg works up the nerve to visit the shooter’s mother, who still lives in town even though everyone avoids her. 

In Run Amok, there’s power in asking questions even if, as Meg discovers, the answers aren’t always easy. 

About

Aviva Dove-Viebahn is an associate professor of film and media studies at Arizona State University and a contributing editor for Ms.' Scholar Writing Program.