If Yasujiro Ozu could set a film in the Black South, it might look a lot like Late Summer, Ernie Park’s glowing adaptation of films like Ozu’s Late Autumn. Park not only riffs on Ozu’s tales of family love and social belonging, he crafts a kindred poetic language, one born little by little, over time… in Nashville. Park’s Tennessee is unlike any on screen before. Without a cowboy hat or gospel singer in sight, Late Summer moves—make that strolls—through a black community filled with riches, the sort of extraordinary gift of living where the corner store clerk is lookin’ out, where running into people is filled with pleasure. Against these idyllic moments, Nadia struggles with a choice between leaving for university or opening a tea shop with her mother, recently recovered from a serious illness.

Ernie Park expands Asian American filmmaking with this masterful and heartfelt film, relaxing us into the bittersweet feeling of a fading day. Late Summer’s visuals shimmer, the performances breathe, and the emotion comes not from conflict but from grace—from knowing peace and deciding whether to leave one kind of joy for the unknown.