(L-R) Alec Goldberg, Julien Turner, Justen Turner, and Nicole Holofcener attend the Episodic Fiction Pilot Showcase during the 2026 Sundance Film Festival at The Ray Theatre on January 27, 2026 in Park City, Utah. (Photo by Arturo Holmes/Getty Images)
By Adam Silverstein
At The Ray Theatre, the 2026 Sundance Film Festival’s Episodic Fiction Pilot Showcase plays less like a polite sampler and more like a flex. Three very different shows — FreeLance, Soft Boil, and Worried — roll back-to-back, consistently scoring laughs and keeping the room engaged, and by the time the credits finish, it’s hard not to conclude that television comedy is doing just fine.
FreeLance
The theater warms up fast with FreeLance, a loose, sharp comedy from Ohio filmmaking brothers Julien Turner and Justen Turner. The pilot follows five Black guys trying to build creative careers in an internet economy that feels both limitless and deeply cursed. They bicker like family, roast each other mercilessly, and chase gigs that promise exposure more than money. It’s instantly relatable, even if you’ve never touched a ring light.
With Spence Moore II playing the lead, the episode centers on a paid wedding shoot that spirals when someone forgets the drone. Things get worse. Panic sets in. The comedy leans lightly slapstick without losing its footing — a disastrous Uber ride with a hapless driver lands especially hard (“Can you give me five stars?” “I’ll give you six.”). This is a show about hustle culture from people clearly living inside it, and the laughs are constant.
During the Q&A, Justen Turner says the project was inspired by the incredibly online world we’re all currently living in. “With the internet, reality has become so weird,” he says. Lou Young III — the former NFL player turned comedian and actor — shrugs when asked why he signed on to star. “When they sent me the script, I didn’t even read it,” he admits. “I said let’s do it.” The audience roars. The unspoken takeaway lands just as clearly: Who would want to be a content creator right now?
Soft Boil
If FreeLance is about creative burnout, Soft Boil is about chaos as a coping mechanism. Created by Alec Goldberg and comedian Camille Wormser, the pilot stars Wormser as Lulu, a struggling actress who lands a nanny job by weaponizing her acting résumé. The parents are desperate. She’s deeply unqualified. Everyone proceeds anyway.
Set in Los Angeles and pulsing with zany, unfiltered energy, the show escalates quickly. Lulu spirals after a breakup, attempts revenge sex that goes wildly sideways, downs a Plan B, and then — just when you think you know what kind of show this is — detonates a genuine plot twist. Wormser is fearless, physical, and absurdly funny, the kind of performer who makes everyone around her sharper just trying to keep up.
Goldberg admits during the Q&A that the original goal was simple: “We just wanted to see more of Camille.” Patrick Tabari, in the cast as Lulu’s boyfriend, jokes that acting opposite her is impossible. “I thought I was a professional,” he says. “She ruins 90% of the takes. She’s so funny.” The affection in the Ray is obvious — this is a show built around trusting its lead to go too far, then further.
Worried
The final pilot, Worried, brings things back to emotional ground without losing the jokes. Directed by Nicole Holofcener, it’s a zillennial sister comedy starring Gideon Adlon and Rachel Kaly as Jules and Poppy — two women raised by the internet, TikTok, and mutual anxiety. Jules is astrology-obsessed. Poppy watches 9/11 footage for fun. They’re learning how to be adults in public, in real time.
Holofcener — making history as the first ever filmmaker at the Festival to debut a short (Angry in 1991), a feature (Friends with Money in 2006), and now an episodic project here — keeps the tone warm and observational. The show is about sisterhood as survival, sex in a post-Pornhub world, and how intimacy gets warped when everything is content. Adlon channels a similar comedic rhythm to her mother, Pamela — sharp, self-effacing, and hilarious.
During the Q&A, Holofcener says: “Working with these actors killed me. The writing was wonderful.” Co-writer Alexandra Tanner, who also wrote the source novels, adds: “I wrote a book about living with my sister in a tiny apartment. And now we’re here at Sundance.” The moment feels earned.
