By Kyle Flynn

A Poet is a rarity in the modern landscape of cinema. It was one of the few films I saw in 2025 that were unmistakably hilarious but equally painful. The obvious oxymoron of being both ‘hilarious’ and ‘painful’ rings true when a film as original as A Poet comes along. A filmmaking effort so self-assured in what we need right now, I was astonished to discover it was only Simon Mesa Soto’s sophomore feature. The ability to make something with an affable bite and charm, and hinged on the audience’s own ability to realize Oscar’s misgivings, could only leave me awed. 

The film follows a teacher, father, and struggling poet named Oscar, played by Ubeimar Rios in his screen debut, as he navigates a family whose emotions toward him range from loving to apathetic to annoyance, particularly from his daughter, Daniela. Moreover, a talented student named Yurlady enters his life, giving him a sense of purpose. 

Ubeimar Rios is unbelievable in the role. He finds the character’s center and makes it look effortless. He is playing someone who consistently makes decisions that are meant to be viewed as questionable. Still, Rios finds a way to maximize the humanity curated on the page and bring it to life in his performance.

Not only is it one of the first credited for Ubeimar Rios, but the greater ensemble is made up of multiple first-time actors. It would be a disservice not to highlight the performances from Rebeca Andrade, who plays Yurlady, and Alisson Correa, who plays Daniela. Both of these young actors are having the difficult task of acting opposite Ríos’s very stylized, large performance in a relatively grounded narrative. While watching the film, you can’t help but appreciate what Andrade and Correa pull off, and the way they open up the screenplay to allow you to sympathize with how their characters feel.

Additionally, Simon Mesa Soto’s writing feels equally dynamic, working in tandem with the performances. Packed to the brim with jokes and winding monologues that make you cringe and feel for our unfortunate protagonist. As someone who is not usually fond of voiceover in screenwriting, especially for pivotal moments. I was shocked by how moved I was by one of the final moments in this scene, involving the voiceover of a letter. At times, the writing can feel overwrought and repetitive with the intentional lack of tack, even resourcefulness, that Simon Mesa Soto ingrains into his central character. I have to question whether an opportunity would have presented itself in the writing to give the audience a better understanding of how we have seen him evolve to this point, rather than leaving it so isolated to this primary moment as a teacher through the end of the film. 

It would be a missed opportunity not to mention the cinematography of Juan Sarmiento G., who crafts this gorgeous, grainy aesthetic. The cinematography feels purposeful and direct, using a wide range of shots—from wide shots to close-ups—making it one of the film’s primary highlights. 

What I said at the start of this review continues to remain true in my head: A Poet is one of the films of the moment. Hilarious, painful, and somber all in one. Desperately in tune with the current landscape and endlessly relatable to anyone who feels that they haven’t achieved the goals they were meant to.

 4 stars