Off the Record

A deep and heartfelt drama that dives into the highs and lows of chasing dreams in the music industry. Astor Grey's journey feels raw and real, and the film does a great job capturing the tension between ambition, love, and self-worth.

While some moments feel familiar, the story still resonates thanks to strong performances and a moody, memorable soundtrack. It's refreshing to see a film that balances vulnerability with resilience, showing how messy-but meaningful-personal growth can be. A solid, soulful watch that hits more than it misses, with emotional depth, honest storytelling, and style.

Off the Record follows LA musician Astor Grey as she navigates the highs and lows of love, fame, and artistic identity. On the surface, she seems to have it all-romance, a career breakthrough, and a glamorous life with her rock star boyfriend. But as the film unfolds, it becomes clear that success in the music industry often comes with painful compromises.

While some plot beats are a bit predictable, that's part of what makes it feel real-life doesn't always surprise us, but it still hits hard. The film finds its strength in the performances, with a talented cast that brings emotional depth and authenticity to each moment. There are scenes that genuinely shine, reminding us that even in a familiar story, there's always room for heart and resonance.

I'm genuinely surprised by how positively Off the Record has been received. With an IMDb score hovering near 8 out of 10, I expected something fresh, clever, or at least emotionally engaging. Instead, the film feels stuck in the 1990s-predictable plot, shallow storytelling, and dialogue that struggles to sound authentic.

What makes it frustrating is how long I waited for it to finally pick up or deliver something memorable. It never does. The performances can't save a script that offers no surprises, and the pacing drags so much that even the more dramatic moments fall flat.

If this is what counts as high-quality cinema today, the bar seems alarmingly low. Off the Record is one you can safely skip without fear of missing anything worthwhile.

Rainey Qualley delivers a standout performance as Astor Grey, a rising indie singer whose talent is undeniable, but so is her vulnerability. Between gigs and commercial work, Astor is trying to make something real. Enter Brandyn Verge, a washed-up rockstar with a slick smile and something to prove. Ryan Hansen plays him with an unnerving blend of charm and volatility, he's not a villain in the cartoon sense, which is what makes him dangerous. The relationship that unfolds is seductive, erratic, and edged with dread.

What starts as a familiar story, a younger artist lured by an older mentor, becomes something far thornier. Foe isn't interested in easy labels. She's interested in power: who has it, how it's taken, and what it costs to reclaim. And when Astor finally finds her voice, both musically and metaphorically, it's not in a triumphant anthem, but something raw, defiant, and earned.

The supporting cast adds texture. Olivia Sui brings grounded energy to the best-friend role, while Julia Campbell is quietly commanding as Astor's mother, who's seen the game and knows the rules. Rebecca De Mornay is pitch-perfect as the tough as nails manager and ally , and blink-and-you'll-miss-it cameos from the likes of Billy Gibbons and Peyton Manning add sly levity.

Yes, you can spot echoes of A Star Is Born here, but Foe's film isn't a tragedy. It's a rebellion. Off the Record is about survival, self-definition, and how women are done waiting for permission to take the mic. In a post-MeToo world still wrestling with old power structures, this film doesn't just feel timely-it, feels necessary.

The trailer looked decent and we like Ryan Hansen, but this was unwatchable and very cringey. Couldn't even make it through a half hour. The plot feels like it was written in 1992, when women were given no agency. Just go watch A Star Is Born if you're looking for an overdramatic music industry movie. This ain't it.