Liz Sargent's Take Me Home, which premiered at the 2026 Sundance Film Festival, opens in theaters on September 23. The film stars Sargent's sister Anna, a 38-year-old Korean adoptee with a developmental disability, in a drama that works as both comedy and indictment of American social care.

The story follows a family in central Florida, far from the theme parks: Anna lives with her primary caretaker mother, Joan (Marceline Hugot), and father, Bob (Victor Slezak). Sister Emily (Ali Ahn) lives in Brooklyn. The film opens with a small domestic crisis—Bob grows short-tempered as the family rushes after Anna loses her water bottle—before the inciting event: Anna tries to FaceTime Emily at work to say Joan is "burning up," and Emily ignores the call.

After Joan's death, Emily returns home and tries to care for both Anna and Bob while holding onto her job. She searches for care options and finds it nearly impossible to navigate Florida's healthcare systems and the myriad insurance requirements. The system, the film argues, would force a father to abandon his adopted daughter just to secure the care they both need.

The picture is at its strongest when it simply observes the family. In one scene, Emily asks Bob why they adopted Anna. His answer: they had extra love to give. The film proceeds with candid honesty about living with and caring for people who need love, patience and attention. Emily selflessly picks up the slack, and it is still not quite enough.

Anna's rebellion against Bob supplies some of the film's best passages. In one instance, she runs away from home—only a few doors down—to befriend James (Shane Harper), who lets her hang out and listens when she needs a friend most.

For much of its running time, Take Me Home works in a mode of social realism before an abrupt ending that is not just a tonal shift but feels intentionally like a different movie that also happens to star Anna. That optimism arrives unearned, though it provides some deserved catharsis for characters the film has established as good people trapped in impossible situations.

Adapted from Sargent's 2023 short film of the same name, the feature is often riveting because Anna Sargent is such a commanding presence on screen—her performance invites hope that she appears in future pictures about characters tackling everyday challenges. The film is at its best in moments of warmth, humor and kindness, without needing to amp up the stakes or shift forms.

Whether the film's tonal gamble in its third act will divide general audiences as it did critics at Sundance, its September 23 release will bring one of the festival's most personal family portraits to a wider public.