Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother: Faith, Fatherhood and Fury

Directed by: Bassam Tariq

Written by: Bassam Tariq

Starring: Mahershala Ali, John Cho, Abubakr Ali, Laith Nakli, Tramell Tillman, Tiffany Boone, Giancarlo Esposito, Adia, Jahleel Kamara

Cinematography by: Katelin Arizmendi

Edited by: Cam McLauchlin

Music by: Son Lux

Run Time: 111 minutes

Rating: R

Release Date: September 25, 2026

Honestly, Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother was one of the biggest reasons I attended this year’s Toronto International Film Festival. We’ve spent years waiting—and grieving—for that Mahershala Ali-led Blade movie to actually happen. But out of that disappointment comes something that might be more interesting: a film that still allows Ali to be an action star while giving him far more to wrestle with emotionally and mentally.

Yes, Ali gets to fight. And when the action comes, it delivers the kind of physicality that makes you wonder what his version of Blade might have looked like. But Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother has more on its mind. It explores faith, forgiveness, male vulnerability and the pressures of being a single Black father in ways we rarely get to see in an action film.

Ali plays Latif, a man devoted to his family who desperately wants forgiveness but can’t seem to escape his past. He’s vulnerable and intense, a hero who leads with his heart, is grounded by his faith and, when necessary, destroys with his hands. It’s that contradiction that makes him interesting. Latif can take down a room full of people, but some of his toughest battles are the ones he can’t solve with his fists. Sometimes, it’s something as simple and real as trying to find milk for his baby while raising his other two children and trying to build the kind of home his late wife would have wanted.

Faith Comes in Different Forms

That struggle with faith extends beyond Latif. Hatty (Abubakr Ali), the son of Mike Mahmoudi, Latif’s fixer and point person for his work as a hitman, has built an adult-entertainment empire and can be weaselly, annoying and funny. His personality plays well against Latif’s more straight-laced nature. Latif continually reminds Hatty that he needs to pray and become more connected to his religion, even as Latif struggles with his own faith. Hatty is definitely the comic relief here, and the movie knows exactly when to use him.

Then there’s John Cho as Kwan, the antagonist and a religious leader with his own group of followers. He’s a former vet who can be just as dangerous as he is cartoonish. Between the cowboy hat and some of his wild outfits, there are times when he looks like he walked out of the entrance ramp of a ’90s WWE show.

But underneath all of that is an interesting contrast between Kwan and Latif. They aren’t completely different men. Both are guided by belief, but they use that belief in very different ways. Latif’s faith is personal and constantly being tested. Kwan has turned his beliefs into something closer to a cult, complete with religious songs, devoted followers and enough military weaponry to start a small war.

For a movie dealing with grief, religion and violence, it could have become unbearably serious. Instead, the pacing and humor give the heavier moments some room to breathe. The movie knows it’s here to entertain, too. It wants you rooting for Latif and enjoying the action while still caring about the man throwing the punches.

A Father Fighting More Than Bad Guys

What I also appreciated is that Latif’s problems don’t disappear once he’s away from the violence. The movie spends time with the everyday obstacles his family faces, including what happens when people need government-funded resources and the system that’s supposed to help them isn’t always easy to navigate.

There’s frustration in watching people who need assistance having to deal with barriers just to get it. The movie also touches on the discrimination some communities can face while trying to access those resources. For Latif, these aren’t abstract political issues. He’s a father trying to take care of his children, and sometimes getting what they need can become its own battle.

Faith, Family and a Beautiful Frame

The cinematography is also a visual pleasure, particularly in the way conversations are framed. One of my favorite shots places Latif and Kwan across from each other in a room surrounded by mirrors. The symmetrical framing puts the two men on opposite sides of the screen while their reflections seem to stretch endlessly around them. Deep reds, streaks of green and a warm glow give the scene an almost dreamlike quality.

What could have been a simple conversation becomes one of the movie’s most interesting images. It’s also a fitting way to frame two men who have become larger-than-life figures within their own communities. They might be sitting across from each other as enemies, but all those reflections make you think about the similarities between them, too.

The editing works especially well with those visuals. During the action, the cuts are quick and energetic without making it difficult to understand what’s happening. 

Some of the film’s most beautiful imagery arrives in the third act, when prayer and family become intertwined. Those scenes aren’t beautiful just for the sake of looking good. They connect directly to what the movie has been saying about faith and what people hold onto when they’ve run out of other answers.

Ali’s Toughest Scenes Don’t Require a Weapon

Some of the movie’s most powerful moments happen between Latif and Adia. Their relationship gets at something the action can’t: the pain of a young woman growing up without her mother and a father who desperately wants the best for his family but doesn’t always know how to give it to them.

Adia is a breakout for me. She makes you feel the pressure of being the eldest child in this family—the expectations, frustration and emotional responsibility that can come with having to grow up faster than you should.

Ali doesn’t overpower those scenes either. That’s important. He lets Latif become vulnerable with her. For all the damage this man can do with his hands, he can’t punch his way through his daughter’s grief. He has to listen to her, deal with his own pain and accept that protecting his children doesn’t always mean fighting somebody. And that’s ultimately where Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother surprised me.

Something Better Than the Blade Movie I Was Waiting For

I went into the film partly because I wanted to see what Mahershala Ali could do in the kind of action role we’ve been waiting years to see him play. I left realizing that reducing this movie to “the closest thing we’re getting to Mahershala Ali’s Blade” would undersell it.

By the end, the movie is reaching for something bigger than action. Even when its finale brushes against the supernatural, it stays connected to belief, faith, forgiveness and the power of prayer. Whether you believe everything that’s happening literally almost becomes less important than understanding why these characters need something to believe in.

Maybe we still get that Blade movie someday. But Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother gives Ali something a superhero movie might not have: the chance to play a man whose strength isn’t measured only by how many people he can take down. His story is about faith, grief, forgiveness and trying to keep a family together when he doesn’t have all the answers.

And that’s far more interesting than simply watching him kill vampires. With its emotional depth, beautiful cinematography, strong performances and exciting action, Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother earns a 4 out of 5 from me. It’s one I would watch again and eventually want sitting in my physical media collection.

Honestly, Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother was one of the biggest reasons I attended this year’s Toronto International Film Festival. We’ve spent years waiting—and grieving—for that Mahershala Ali-led Blade movie to actually happen. But out of that disappointment comes something that might be more interesting: a film that still allows Ali to be an action star while giving him far more to wrestle with emotionally and mentally.

Yes, Ali gets to fight. And when the action comes, it delivers the kind of physicality that makes you wonder what his version of Blade might have looked like. But Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother has more on its mind. It explores faith, forgiveness, male vulnerability and the pressures of being a single Black father in ways we rarely get to see in an action film.

Ali plays Latif, a man devoted to his family who desperately wants forgiveness but can’t seem to escape his past. He’s vulnerable and intense, a hero who leads with his heart, is grounded by his faith and, when necessary, destroys with his hands. It’s that contradiction that makes him interesting. Latif can take down a room full of people, but some of his toughest battles are the ones he can’t solve with his fists. Sometimes, it’s something as simple and real as trying to find milk for his baby while raising his other two children and trying to build the kind of home his late wife would have wanted.

Faith Comes in Different Forms

That struggle with faith extends beyond Latif. Hatty (Abubakr Ali), the son of Mike Mahmoudi, Latif’s fixer and point person for his work as a hitman, has built an adult-entertainment empire and can be weaselly, annoying and funny. His personality plays well against Latif’s more straight-laced nature. Latif continually reminds Hatty that he needs to pray and become more connected to his religion, even as Latif struggles with his own faith. Hatty is definitely the comic relief here, and the movie knows exactly when to use him.

Then there’s John Cho as Kwan, the antagonist and a religious leader with his own group of followers. He’s a former vet who can be just as dangerous as he is cartoonish. Between the cowboy hat and some of his wild outfits, there are times when he looks like he walked out of the entrance ramp of a ’90s WWE show.

But underneath all of that is an interesting contrast between Kwan and Latif. They aren’t completely different men. Both are guided by belief, but they use that belief in very different ways. Latif’s faith is personal and constantly being tested. Kwan has turned his beliefs into something closer to a cult, complete with religious songs, devoted followers and enough military weaponry to start a small war.

For a movie dealing with grief, religion and violence, it could have become unbearably serious. Instead, the pacing and humor give the heavier moments some room to breathe. The movie knows it’s here to entertain, too. It wants you rooting for Latif and enjoying the action while still caring about the man throwing the punches.

A Father Fighting More Than Bad Guys

What I also appreciated is that Latif’s problems don’t disappear once he’s away from the violence. The movie spends time with the everyday obstacles his family faces, including what happens when people need government-funded resources and the system that’s supposed to help them isn’t always easy to navigate.

There’s frustration in watching people who need assistance having to deal with barriers just to get it. The movie also touches on the discrimination some communities can face while trying to access those resources. For Latif, these aren’t abstract political issues. He’s a father trying to take care of his children, and sometimes getting what they need can become its own

battle.

Faith, Family and a Beautiful Frame

The cinematography is also a visual pleasure, particularly in the way conversations are framed. One of my favorite shots places Latif and Kwan across from each other in a room surrounded by mirrors. The symmetrical framing puts the two men on opposite sides of the screen while their reflections seem to stretch endlessly around them. Deep reds, streaks of green and a warm glow give the scene an almost dreamlike quality.

What could have been a simple conversation becomes one of the movie’s most interesting images. It’s also a fitting way to frame two men who have become larger-than-life figures within their own communities. They might be sitting across from each other as enemies, but all those reflections make you think about the similarities between them, too.

The editing works especially well with those visuals. During the action, the cuts are quick and energetic without making it difficult to understand what’s happening. 

Some of the film’s most beautiful imagery arrives in the third act, when prayer and family become intertwined. Those scenes aren’t beautiful just for the sake of looking good. They connect directly to what the movie has been saying about faith and what people hold onto when they’ve run out of other answers.

Ali’s Toughest Scenes Don’t Require a Weapon

Some of the movie’s most powerful moments happen between Latif and Adia. Their relationship gets at something the action can’t: the pain of a young woman growing up without her mother and a father who desperately wants the best for his family but doesn’t always know how to give it to them.

Adia is a breakout for me. She makes you feel the pressure of being the eldest child in this family—the expectations, frustration and emotional responsibility that can come with having to grow up faster than you should.

Ali doesn’t overpower those scenes either. That’s important. He lets Latif become vulnerable with her. For all the damage this man can do with his hands, he can’t punch his way through his daughter’s grief. He has to listen to her, deal with his own pain and accept that protecting his children doesn’t always mean fighting somebody. And that’s ultimately where Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother surprised me.

Something Better Than the Blade Movie I Was Waiting For

I went into the film partly because I wanted to see what Mahershala Ali could do in the kind of action role we’ve been waiting years to see him play. I left realizing that reducing this movie to “the closest thing we’re getting to Mahershala Ali’s Blade” would undersell it.

By the end, the movie is reaching for something bigger than action. Even when its finale brushes against the supernatural, it stays connected to belief, faith and forgiveness. Whether you believe everything that’s happening literally almost becomes less important than understanding why these characters need something to believe in.

Maybe we still get that Blade movie someday. But Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother gives Ali something a superhero movie might not have: the chance to play a man whose strength isn’t measured only by how many people he can take down. His story is about faith, grief, forgiveness and trying to keep a family together when he doesn’t have all the answers.

And that’s far more interesting than simply watching him kill vampires. With its emotional depth, beautiful cinematography, strong performances and exciting action, Your Mother Your Mother Your Mother earns a 4 out of 5 from me. It’s one I would watch again and eventually want sitting in my physical media collection.