With no big stars, no flashy elevator pitch, and no provocative title, A Safe Distance might well get overlooked at its world premiere out of the 2026 SXSW film festival. And that would be the world’s loss. Written by Aidan West, A Safe Distance is a lean and scintillating thriller that wears its influences — the works of Patricia Highsmith — on its sleeve without apology. The feature directorial debut of Gloria Mercer, this film is slippery, seductive, and smartly titillating. 

Like any psychological noir worth the price of salt, A Safe Distance begins in medias res, with a gunshot boom and a spatter of blood across a woman’s face. In the woods, she and another woman, also marked with blood, walk quietly to a river and wash away the signs of violence. Who are they? And how did they get here? Where did the blood come from?

By hooking us with the promise of a shocking murder, A Safe Distance begins as a mystery before leaping back in time to a seemingly mundane camping trip. What follows, however, is the kind of fateful meeting that is the stuff of Highsmith novels like The Price of Salt, The Talented Mr. Ripley, and Strangers on a Train. When strangers meet, anything is possible, including love and murder. 

A Safe Distance dares to tread the path less traveled. 

The story begins with a thirtysomething couple, Alex (Bethany Brown) and Joey (Chris McNally), celebrating their eighth anniversary with a camping trip in a sprawling forest. It should be romantic, but beneath her pleasant exterior, Alex seems bored. When Joey turns a cliffside hike into a cringingly clichéd opportunity to propose, she’s not enthusiastic; she’s repulsed. Dejected, he abandons her in the woods, which is when she meets Kianna (Tandia Mercedes) and Matt (Cody Kearsley). 

This couple is everything Alex and Joey are not. They are young, unconventional, and uninhibited. Alex feels lighter and more free just being in their company. At first, it might seem they’re part of the Gen Z van-life community. But before long, Alex realizes they’re not just living off the grid, they’re bank robbers on the run. And far from being fearful, she’s fascinated. 

Abandoned by her banal boyfriend, not expected back at her HR job for days, and now in the hands of a pair of armed and dangerous criminals, a new world of possibilities falls before her. What could life look like if she just didn’t go home? Turned on by their devil-may-care attitudes, she’s in their thrall sexually and psychologically. Firing a gun for shooting practice becomes as thrilling as a ménage à trois. But how long can this criminal bliss last? 

A Safe Distance evolves into a sapphic romance with crackling chemistry. 

Unmistakably, both Matt and Kianna are into Alex. There’s an electrifying excitement as their desire becomes a three-way flame for a steamy sex scene. But Matt soon becomes less intriguing and more tedious. Tossing his long, shiny hair and flexing his muscles, he monologues about feminism and society with a gnawing arrogance that feels like he’s pitching a podcast. So it’s little surprise when Alex brushes off his advances for a stolen kiss, and Kianna grows visibly irritated with his presumptions about his own prowess as a thief. 

Stolen glances and conversations about the books of Patricia Highsmith point to where A Safe Distance is headed. I mean, two women sharing a picnic blanket, talking about the brilliance of The Price of Salt (which Todd Haynes adapted into the sumptuous queer romance Carol) is anything but subtle. But it’s not meant to be. It’s these women’s version of passing a note in class that essentially says, “I like you, do you like me? Check yes or no.” 

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Brown and Mercedes are superb in these scenes. While their characters each try to maintain a facade of aloof cool, their conversation oozes with vulnerability and hopefulness. Like Highsmith’s heroes, villains, and antiheroes, they fall fast and unstoppably for a life path that society might reject as deranged, dangerous, or wicked. The dream of being not Bonnie and Clyde but Alex and Kianna is clear and glittering as they pull off an impromptu robbery at a random convenience store. Of course, Matt bristles at being left out. 

From there, the heat and tension builds, promising an eruption that we know will end in blood. But whose? That question pulls the final act into a place of dizzying anxiety and anticipation. It’s a threesome turned love triangle turned deadly dance, and who will be left standing might seem obvious. But A Safe Distance has solid surprises in store. 

Cheers to West and Mercer, for this is a spectacular example of smart, sexy, and satisfying indie cinema. Their locations are modest. Their production design is mostly a forest. They have only a handful of characters, and no big names to boost the production’s profile. So they lean into sharp storytelling, intoxicating chemistry, and a lean runtime of 85 minutes. A Safe Distance is terrifically paced, unapologetically alluring, and psychologically exciting, making this thriller a salty, twisted treat. The allusions to Highsmith could have hurt the film if it weren’t such a solid homage to her storytelling style. Instead, it’s easy to see Alex and Kianna among the ranks of Tom Ripley or Carol Aird, figures driven by their desires, for better or worse. And by damn, don’t we love them for it? 

A Safe Distance was reviewed out of the 2026 SXSW Film Festival.

If the story of the Cornbread Mafia weren’t true, you might think it’s something the Coen Bros. had dreamed up. The stranger-than-fiction tale of a motley band of “dirt-poor dirt farmers” from Kentucky growing into “the largest homegrown marijuana operation in the U.S.” fits in nicely with the likes of Raising Arizona and O Brother, Where Art Thou? in terms of outlaw energy and Southern-fried comedy.

From the jump, documentarians Evan Mascagni and Drew Morris introduce the eponymous criminal organization with a disarming sense of humor. Cornbread Mafia begins on lush green farmland, where brothers Joe Keith Bickett and Jimmy Bickett pull up in a pick-up truck with a bed piled high with marijuana. Joe introduces himself and his brother from a script, but fumbles his delivery. So, they’ll do another take… in which someone’s cell phone will blare, interrupting Joe’s flow. 

It’s an amusing beginning that gives the audience permission to laugh along with the Bickett brothers as their audacious story is unfurled. But more than that, by drawing attention to the artifice that exists within documentary filmmaking, Mascagni and Morris offer a subtle disclaimer that every story is shaped by its teller. What you see here might not be the whole truth — but it’s the truth according to the Cornbread Mafia. And that truth is outrageously entertaining, while offering some solid food for thought. 

Cornbread Mafia is a gangster story with a comic air. 

In talking-head interviews, the documentarians sit down with the Bicketts, a wide array of their notorious associates, and even the occasional lawman to reconstruct the history of the Cornbread Mafia. Their stories are hilarious and bonkers, involving car chases, half-cocked heists, tiger cubs, and an elegant ally named Susie, who’s introduced with the snarled non sequitur, “I think rats should die.” 

See, the Cornbread Mafia isn’t just a name. They pulled inspiration for how they operated from the Italian mob’s concept of omertà — meaning a code of honor and silence that favored community over going to the cops. This mafia began in the 1970s as a band of farmers who’d been buying pathetic dime bags of pot from Mexico, until they did the math. A baggie of marijuana was going for $30, while a pound of tobacco was $1.50. So, picking the seeds from their purchased dime bags seemed an almost inevitable move to grow a fortune fairly easily.

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The next bit was figuring out how to develop a breed of weed that could give them the most bang for their growing buck. Enter Johnny Boone, whose sharp mind not only grew their operation across the country, hiding their crops in fields of corn, but also led to the creation of the marijuana strain Kentucky Bluegrass. 

Like any gangster story worth its grit, Cornbread Mafia charts the heady highs and rough lows of their journey, from fugitives to folk heroes. Then, it goes further, into contemporary politics, judicial hypocrisies, and life-changing activism. Yet the filmmakers never let the big topics dwarf the rollicking fun of being in (or near) the Cornbread Mafia. 

Cornbread Mafia uses animation and Boyd Holbrook for educational value and whimsy. 

Rather than hire actors for reenactments, Mascagni and Morris employ animation to illustrate these larger-than-life tales, as well as complicated explanations about the American justice system and the war on drugs. 

The animations for both have a vaguely ’70s Schoolhouse Rock feel. Brightly colored pie charts illustrate a cheeky point about buyer demographics, while cartoon versions of the Bicketts and Boone skedaddle from the cops in a colorful pick-up truck. Then, to finesse  transitions between interviews or give context to graphs, the whiskey-smooth voice of Boyd Holbrook serves as narrator.  

Now, some might sneer at how this animated approach undercuts the criminality of the mafia’s actions. As bobble-headed potheads, they seem more like the Scooby gang than Scarface. But that’s precisely the point. Cornbread Mafia regards its subjects as outlaws, but it doesn’t condemn them for their crimes. Instead, the doc gives space to these growers to express how they built an industry despite the poverty that threatened to choke their whole town. Like the bootleggers or moonshiners that were their ancestors (in some cases literally), they used their wits, their resources, and their friends to grow a fortune that could care for them all. And it did until the Feds rolled in with a reckoning in the form of mandatory minimums. 

From there, Cornbread Mafia explores the sentencing laws that regard non-violent drug offenses on the same level of punishment as double murder. (Sadly, this is not a hypothetical, but a tragic true story that ties into the Cornbread Mafia’s saga.) However, because this movie reflects its subjects’ lust for life and devil-may-care energy, Cornbread Mafia doesn’t tread carefully into a formal march through history, politics, and opposing views. This is a raucous dance of a documentary. 

The cartoons, suave voice-over, and lively interviews challenge the narrative that drug dealers are bad guys, presenting these good ol’ boys as rebels with a wild streak. Like the folk hero outlaws who came before them, they are beguiling rule-breakers who inspire awe, envy, and outrage. And Cornbread Mafia does right by them by welcoming its audience into the thrall of that outlaw American legacy. 

Simply put, Cornbread Mafia is a sensational true crime doc that gives fresh verve to the standard talking heads, rigorous reenactments, and voiceovers by leaning into the crooked-smiled charms of its subjects. They’re not made to explain themselves, but invited to share their stories. And they do so with joyfulness and frankness that is intoxicating. Cornbread Mafia is not just eye-opening and provocative; it’s also a hell of a lot of fun.

Cornbread Mafia was reviewed out of SXSW.

As we get closer to the New Moon phase of the lunar cycle, the Moon becomes more of a crescent shape. Its visible surface decreases each night as the Sun lights up less of the side facing Earth, making the Moon appear slimmer until it briefly disappears during the New Moon.

What is today’s Moon phase?

As of Friday, March 13, the Moon phase is Waning Crescent. According to NASA’s Daily Moon Guide, 32% of the Moon will be lit up tonight.

There’s less visibility tonight, but still enough to spot some features. With just your naked eye, you can see the Aristarchus Plateau and the Kepler Crater. With binoculars, you’ll also see the Grimaldi Basin, the Gassendi Crater and the Mare Humorum.

When is the next Full Moon?

In North America, the next Full Moon is predicted to take place on April 1.

What are Moon phases?

According to NASA, the Moon takes roughly 29.5 days to orbit Earth, passing through eight distinct phases along the way. Although we always see the same side of the Moon, the amount illuminated by the Sun shifts as it moves, which is why it can appear full, half-lit, or just a thin sliver at different times in the cycle. These shifting appearances are known as the lunar phases, and there are eight altogether:

New Moon – The Moon is between Earth and the sun, so the side we see is dark (in other words, it’s invisible to the eye).

Waxing Crescent – A small sliver of light appears on the right side (Northern Hemisphere).

First Quarter – Half of the Moon is lit on the right side. It looks like a half-Moon.

Waxing Gibbous – More than half is lit up, but it’s not quite full yet.

Full Moon – The whole face of the Moon is illuminated and fully visible.

Waning Gibbous – The Moon starts losing light on the right side. (Northern Hemisphere)

Third Quarter (or Last Quarter) – Another half-Moon, but now the left side is lit.

Waning Crescent – A thin sliver of light remains on the left side before going dark again.