Cherien Dabis is a name you should probably know better than you do. She’s the force behind Amreeka, a film that absolutely floored critics back in 2009. But if you start digging into her filmography, you’ll eventually hit a wall with a project titled May in the Summer. It’s a movie that feels like it should be a staple of modern indie streaming libraries, yet it exists in this weird, liminal space of "oh, I think I heard of that" and "where do I actually watch this?"
It premiered at Sundance. Not just anywhere at Sundance—it opened the U.S. Dramatic Competition in 2013. That’s a massive deal.
The film follows May Brennan, played by Dabis herself, a successful Palestinian-American author who heads back to Amman, Jordan, to get married. She’s got the "perfect" life on paper. She’s sophisticated, her fiancé is a scholar, and she’s written a best-selling book on Arab proverbs. But once she hits the ground in Jordan, the friction between her New York sensibilities and her mother’s born-again Christian fervor starts sparking fires.
Honestly, the movie is a bit of a tonal tightrope walk.
The Complicated Identity of May in the Summer
Most people expect "wedding movies" to follow a specific, tired rhythm. You know the one. There’s a dress mishap, a quirky bridesmaid, and a last-minute dash to the altar. May in the Summer isn't interested in being My Big Fat Greek Wedding. It’s actually quite prickly. May isn't always likable. She’s detached. She’s struggling with the fact that her father, played by the legendary Bill Paxton in one of his more understated roles, has a new, much younger wife.
Paxton’s involvement is actually one of the most interesting footnotes. He brings this weird, grounding energy to a cast that includes Hiam Abbass—who most modern audiences now worship as Marcia Roy from Succession. Seeing Abbass play a fiercely religious, judgmental mother in Jordan is a masterclass in how much range she’s always had.
The film tries to juggle a lot. It’s a family drama. It’s a cultural critique. It’s a character study of a woman having a slow-motion identity crisis while everyone else is arguing over floral arrangements.
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Some critics at the time, like those at The Hollywood Reporter, felt the film was a bit too "glossy" compared to Dabis’s gritty debut. They weren't entirely wrong. The cinematography is gorgeous—Amman looks stunning, all beige stone and golden hour light—but that beauty sometimes softens the blow of the actual emotional conflict. It’s a film about the "1% of the Middle East," which is a perspective we rarely get in Western media. We’re used to seeing the region through the lens of war or poverty; we aren't used to seeing it through the lens of high-end apartments and existential dread.
Why the 2013 Sundance Hype Didn't Equal a Box Office Smash
Timing is everything in the indie world. In 2013, the market was shifting. Digital distribution was starting to cannibalize the mid-budget theatrical release. May in the Summer sat on a shelf for a while after its festival run, eventually getting a limited release in 2014 via Cohen Media Group.
It only made about $35,000 at the domestic box office.
That’s a tragedy for a film with this much craft behind it. But that’s the reality of the "Sundance Opening Night" curse sometimes. You get the prestige, you get the red carpet, but unless a distributor puts millions behind the marketing, you disappear into the VOD ether.
The dialogue is sharp, though. Dabis has an ear for how sisters talk to each other. The scenes between May and her two sisters (played by Alia Shawkat and Nadine Malouf) feel lived-in. They bicker about nothing. They smoke on balconies. They call each other out on their hypocrisies. Shawkat, in particular, brings that dry, cynical wit that made her a star in Arrested Development and Search Party. If you're watching it today, the cast feels like a "who’s who" of talent that would go on to do much bigger things.
The Cultural Weight of Cherien Dabis
You can’t talk about May in the Summer without talking about the burden of representation. Dabis was one of the few Palestinian-American voices getting any traction in Hollywood during the early 2010s. When you’re "the only one," there’s this immense pressure to make your film represent everyone.
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Dabis leaned into the specificities of her own life. She’s from Ohio, her family is from Jordan/Palestine, and she’s navigated those two worlds her entire career. In the film, May’s struggle isn't just about her wedding; it's about the fact that she doesn't feel "Arab enough" for her mother and "American enough" for her own peace of mind.
It’s a quiet movie.
There are no big explosions of emotion. Just a lot of simmering resentment and a final act that refuses to give the audience the easy, happy ending they probably wanted. May’s decision-making at the end of the film is controversial among fans. Some find it empowering; others find it incredibly frustrating.
Actually, that frustration is probably why the movie has a bit of a cult following now. It’s honest about the fact that sometimes, going "home" doesn't fix you. Sometimes it just reminds you why you left in the first place.
The Technical Side: Amman as a Character
Most American films shot in the Middle East use it as a backdrop for action. Think The Hurt Locker or Body of Lies. May in the Summer treats Amman like a character.
The sound design is notable. You hear the calls to prayer overlapping with Western pop music. You see the traffic jams and the rooftop parties. It de-exoticizes a place that is constantly orientalized by Hollywood. Brian Kates, the editor, who also worked on Killing Caroline and The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, keeps the pace brisk, even when the plot feels like it's circling the drain of May's indecision.
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The film’s score is also a blend. It uses traditional Arabic instrumentation but weaves it into a very contemporary, indie-folk vibe. It mirrors May herself: a mix of traditions that don't always harmonize.
Where Can You Actually Find This Movie?
This is the annoying part. Because it was a smaller release from a niche distributor, May in the Summer isn't always on the "big" platforms like Netflix or Max.
- Kanopy: If you have a library card, this is your best bet. Kanopy often hosts the Cohen Media Group catalog.
- Apple TV/iTunes: It usually pops up for rent here for a few dollars.
- Physical Media: There is a DVD release, but good luck finding a Blu-ray. It’s become a bit of a collector's item for fans of Alia Shawkat or Hiam Abbass.
It’s worth the hunt, though. Even if only to see Bill Paxton playing a guy who just wants to eat his dinner while his daughters have a meltdown. It was one of his last "quiet" roles before he passed away, and there’s a sweetness to his performance that hits differently now.
The film serves as a bridge. It bridges the gap between the heavy political cinema of the 2000s and the more personal, "vibe-based" indie cinema of the 2020s. It paved the way for shows like Ramy or Mo, which explore the same themes of the Arab-American experience but with a more overtly comedic lens.
Actionable Steps for the Curious Viewer
If you’re planning to dive into May in the Summer, don’t go in expecting a rom-com. You’ll be disappointed. Instead, treat it as a companion piece to other "identity in crisis" films.
- Watch Amreeka first. It’s Dabis’s first film. It sets the stage for her obsession with the immigrant experience. It’s a much tighter, more emotional film that will help you appreciate the stylistic choices she makes in May.
- Look for the subtext in the proverbs. The film is structured around the Arab proverbs May is researching for her book. They aren't just window dressing; they usually comment on the scene that just happened. It’s a clever bit of meta-storytelling that most people miss on the first watch.
- Pay attention to the mother-daughter dynamic. If you’ve ever felt like you’re "performing" a version of yourself for your parents, this movie will trigger you in the best way possible. Hiam Abbass is terrifyingly good at the "disappointed stare."
Ultimately, May in the Summer is a snapshot of a specific moment in independent film. It’s a movie about the silence between the words we say. It’s about the heat of a Jordan summer and the coldness of a relationship that has run its course. It might be hard to track down, but for anyone interested in how we construct our identities in a globalized world, it’s an essential watch.
To get the most out of your viewing, try to find a version with high-quality subtitles. Much of the film’s nuance is buried in the code-switching between English and Arabic. When the characters switch languages, they are switching personalities. It’s a subtle detail, but it’s where the real heart of the movie lives. Check your local digital library or specialized indie streamers like MUBI, which occasionally cycles through Sundance favorites. If you're a fan of Hiam Abbass, this is non-negotiable viewing—it's arguably one of her most grounded and intimidating performances outside of the prestige TV circuit.