Latest Short Film Reviews

It’s an astonishing turn of events that Largo, a story funded by the refugee council about a Syrian child’s mission to set sail to find his parents, would be released in the weeks following the stunning collapse of the monstrous Assad regime that was cause of so many risking their lives to flee. The hostility many have faced in safe nations is a source of shame – and Max Burgoyne-Moore and Salvatore Scarpa’s short is required watching for those in need of an empathy transplant.

Musa (Zack Elsokari) lives on the coast with sponsor guardian Grace (Tamsin Greig). Having fled the civil war in his native Syria, he awaits the arrival of his parents who have promised to join him – despite the dangerous naval journey they must take. Facing discrimination from locals, Grace does what she can to comfort Musa. But a betrayal triggers the young boy into taking a fateful decision, and using an old boat he has rigged up, he sets sail to find his family.

Largo is a film that leaves a lasting, moving impression. Beautiful and heartbreaking, it asks real questions of its audience – asking how we would react in unfathomable circumstances. The British coastal town that acts as its setting is a purgatory for Musa – a holding cell for him to await a family that viewers sense will never come. It’s a hard enough circumstance – but as it slowly emerges that trust is hard to come by, Musa feels left with no choice but to take his life back into his hands. It turns a mirror on us as a community and a society, and asks whether we are willing to allow the real Musas across the world to come to the same conclusions.

Youngster Zack Elsokari is remarkable in the lead role. A portrayal of childhood trauma has rarely felt so authentic – particularly in his anger in place of expressiveness. Musa displays great innovation, investigation and intelligence, but still struggles to truly understand the world or come to terms with the most likely outcome of his search. His innocence has persevered despite everything that has happened to him, a secret message of hope buried deep in a desperately sad narrative. Tamsin Greig is on typically strong form as Grace, Musa’s guardian who struggles to find the right spot between disciplinarian and caregiver.

The film’s moving finale is set in motion by the actions of children – a group of youngsters whose curiosity around Musa’s life has not yet been set to hatred by their surroundings. It is they who raise the alarm, that triggers the best kind of community response. A town that figuratively pushes Musa away now rallies to pull him back – with the message that isolation and discrimination have tragic ends.

Few films capture the complexity of the child refugee experience better than Largo. At a moment in history when the springs of hope are emerging in Syria, we as individuals are still ultimately powerless to shape the events that lead to crisis. Largo inspires one to change what they can control – their behaviour and empathy towards those in our own communities. It is a riveting and moving short, that will never not be timely.

A short horror film written and directed by Don Cunningham and starring himself alongside Jay Pennington, Elisabeth Anne Steigelman and Brad White.

The year is 1863 and Dr. Christopher Cushing (Cunningham) has travelled from England to Germany in order to rescue his wife Isobel (Steigelman), who has been abducted by Baron Janos Finch (Pennington), a vampire. Chistopher must find them, do battle with the monster and save his beloved spouse.

Filmed over a period of six years in Menard, Texas, this short is clearly meant to pay tribute to the horror films of the silent era. Filming was executed in black-and-white with the image looking grainy. There is no speech, no diegetic sound at all actually and the dialogue is presented through sentences on title cards just like the old days. What is heard is the gothic music Andreu Jacob that plays throughout and creates a sinister and dramatic atmosphere. Looking at the mise-en-scene, the action takes place in the countryside and there are locations that are often associated with vampire stories such as a cemetery, a castle and it should be mentioned that there is also a coffin. As for the narrative, it pretty much alternates between Christopher trying to locate his wife and Finch spending time with Isobel, teaching her how to be a vampire. Eventually, things lead to desperate life-and-death situations. It is also worth mentioning that another famous horror film creature makes its appearance.

The following is not intended to bring the film down, however, fans of the vampire genre might be disappointed by a couple of things. Firstly, there are no fangs to be seen (Finch never reveals his) and secondly, Finch appears to be walking around in broad daylight and vampires are supposed to be creatures of the night, yes, the image is black-and-white, however, the sky looks like it is daytime. Again, these two observations are not ment to damage this short but they go against the conventions that are associated with vampire films.

Regarding the performances, arguably Pennington is the one who stands out, portraying a vampire. Dressed in black, with long hair and a beard, he is constantly grinning, with an evil look on his face, making it clear that he is bad. Steigelman plays his victim. Wearing a white dress, looking like a bride, she appears to be under the influence of some kind of spell as she walks alongside Finch, smiling. And then there is Cunningham, who impersonates Dr. Cushing (an obvious homage to actor Peter Wilton Cushing), a brave man, determined to get his wife back.

Going to the themes now, this is a story about desperation, rescue, revenge, cruelty and tragedy. A story about Good vs Evil.

This is probably not meant to be a modern horror film, but rather a tribute to Gothic Horror Silent Films. Fans of the horror genre will most likely appreciate this twenty-minute long dark story that brings the viewer back in time, showing them what horror films used to be like.

A woman is shut down by her friends when she posits the idea that she could absolutely be a dom, so she sets out to prove them wrong.

Men really can be dumb, witless freaks, can’t they? It seems that angry, bucktoothed, sex-pest, Andrew Tate may have been right about them – and let’s be clear, if he is right about this it’s the one and only thing he’s ever been remotely in the ballpark of being right about – that men are far too interested in being led about by the idea of making their pee-pee tingle. (His words, not mine.) The mere existence of the fact that Findom is a real thing, that’s financial domination to the uninitiated, is testament to this, along with OnlyFans model Sophie Rain, who seemingly racked up $43 million in earnings in the past year, with her top supporter apparently funding $4.7 million of that himself. These simps are everywhere and are becoming ever more prevalent in a post-lockdown society, where it’s easier to stay alone in your bedroom and pretend that you’re in a relationship with someone who’s only ripping you for every last cent, rather than actually go outside and have real life interactions with people. So, in the spirit of the modern generation, rather than actually going out and having sex, they’re deciding to make films about it instead.

Writer, director and star, Madison Hatfield has decided to shine a light on the subject of domination in sex-play, even though she is a self-confessed novice herself. Her character, June is a lot like her – a people pleaser who always thinks of others first before setting about getting what she wants. With I Could Dom, Hatfield has decided to explore the side of herself which could be let out if the right situation arose, and so we watch as June bumbles about in some tight leather trying to take control and take what she wants when she gets a date with Jeff (Evans).

This encounter is set-up by a Sex and the City style ‘ladies that lunch’ meeting between June and her two friends, Marigold (Alline) and Deb (Thomas). The other two are well versed in their respective sexual roles, with Deb extorting some poor sap who can’t stop touching himself, and Marigold sharing how she likes to be choked and slapped in the bedroom. Poor June though, is lost in amongst the conversation and when she tentatively suggests that she could dom, literally the whole room looks at her to tell her she’s wrong. Nevertheless, June gets onto the SneakyLynx app to set herself up as a dominatrix so that she can get out there and explore her new found confidence.

As with most dating apps, even the non-overtly sexual ones, Jeff is a needle in a haystack as the only sane, sensible guy out there who has a decent, unthreatening tone and a relatable profile. However, Jeff definitely wants to sub and when faced with the buxom, curvaceous, leather-clad figure of June, he begins to think that all of his Christmases have come at once. Unfortunately for Jeff, June is in over her head and she can’t stop being polite, trying to make sure he is comfortable, and using the word ‘sorry’ way too much. Jeff does his best to put June at ease and is remarkably understanding in the face of such a poor dominatrix, but when he feels that June might not be getting anything out of this, he pulls out the safe-word and calls a halt to proceedings before any jiggery-pokery can begin. This causes June to have a bit of an existential crisis and she begins comparing herself to a soapdish – which does actually make sense within the narrative.

Throughout I Could Dom there’s a cheeky, raunchy, titillating humour which aims to lead the vanillas amongst us delicately through the world of sex-play. The colour and lighting coming through Cristian Bernal’s cinematography also keeps things nice and soft as the sexy times heat up and almost immediately cool down, leaving the viewer feeling safe and content at all times as the very personal issues of finding ourselves through ourselves and each other get explored. The main message of loving yourself comes through nice and clear, especially in the closing moments, and the casual reminder that we’re all just a little bit freaky inside, with the need for us to be okay with that, also hits a nice comfortable note.

Hatfield’s script and narrative have a nice measure of spicy fun to them and her performance as June stands out as a beautiful piece of comedy. There are nice allusions to art and mythology peppered throughout the fifteen-minute runtime, helping us to understand that people have been building fantasies around sex for a very long time, and there is room in the scenario for something bigger to be developed around this idea.

Unfortunately though, the fact that I Could Dom lacks bite in its telling, is what lets it down. With Jeff being the first and only guy that June meets in this bearpit of sexual gratification, and that everything works out for the best immediately, just isn’t indicative of the real life scene. Nowhere do the letters S&M or BDSM get mentioned, showing just how tame the humour and the scenario really are in handling the downright dirty sex acts usually involved in the ritual humiliation of others for sexual gain, and overall I Could Dom feels like it’s pulling on a costume and pretending to be something it’s not. Definitely tastes more like vanilla than hot, sweaty PVC and ground metal.

*A warning to readers that the following review contains discussion of serious subject-matter.

The 21 is a new animated short which depicts some viscerally disturbing real-world events. It’s an artistic retelling (and recontextualization) of the execution of 21 men committed by ISIS in a 2015 video. It goes without saying that it’s the most horrific event for a piece of art or media to be based around. On the film’s website, they intelligently talk about how they wished to “highlight[...] the courage and unshakeable faith of the martyred men, proving that gentle faith is stronger than religious fear-mongering.” So, what we get is a piece made to pay tribute to the brave men who were murdered out of hate as a result of their faith. The topics in discussion, whilst unbearably upsetting, are displayed with enough of a cinematic sense of drama, and guidance through the use of narration, that we’re able to stomach the viewing experience. And yet, most importantly, the film still doesn’t shy away from showing genuine human evil in all its ugliness. It’s very powerful work.

Starting with the unique look, the film’s animation style is simply spectacular. This piece has been described by its makers as being comprised of “Neo-Coptic Iconography” as a way of paying respect to the Coptic faith, which is a fascinating school of aesthetics to adhere to – particularly in relation to animation. This would suggest that the artists – of which there were many (almost a hundred) involved in this production across multiple countries – wished to adopt a vibrant, expressionistic approach to presenting real-life events; guided, stylistically and dramatically, by the spiritual. To tell this deeply serious narrative, a two-dimensional form of animation is implemented, characterised by block colours, intense imagery, and often abstract storytelling. Audiences will find themselves in awe of the technical prowess on display. Through its textures and crafting of light, one cannot ignore the level of passion and detail being showcased on-screen.

In addition to the stunning visuals, other filmic techniques are also used to further immerse viewers in the absolute terror of what’s being depicted in the film. Specifically, sound, colour, and editing were by no means overlooked during the piece’s construction. The manner in which the movie cuts imagery together – considering clearly each shot’s impact, shape, composition and feeling – to then complement or juxtapose one another, is precisely what editing is all about. Many working in the animation industry have stated how one has to effectively edit the picture simultaneously to “shooting” the picture, meaning that no excess of animated imagery would be produced due to rigorous storyboarding. You could view this as a limitation, but in the case of The 21, it only seems to have enhanced its creative capabilities.

To surmise, this is incredibly brave and phenomenally inventive filmmaking. The extensive team of animators, filmmakers and researchers who worked on this piece should be proud of their work. It is to get recognition both as a collaborative piece of visual art and as a social document of sorts. As informative as it is tragic, The 21 is a phenomenal piece of design, and an undeniably admirable tribute.

In the movies, it is very rare that anything good happens in a motel room. Barring the conception of John Connor in ‘The Terminator’, you’ve got criminals - ‘From Dusk Till Dawn’, weirdness - William Friedkin’s ‘Bug’, and of course, most famously psychopaths - The Bates Motel in ‘Psycho’. Therefore, you’d be forgiven for walking into ‘Motel Room’ with trepidation, fearing an onslaught of horror or debauchery, but what you actually get is something extremely earnest and heartwarming.

The film follows the friendship that develops between a young Armenian teenage boy, Sevag (played by Sebastian Rosero) and the prostitute, Megan (played by Tammy Kaitz) that the boy’s father hires to take his virginity. His father, Massis (played by David Gianopoulos) is a hyper-masculine figure, one whom has plenty of experience with Megan - even requesting the Massis special for his son as he kisses her and hands him over. He doesn’t understand his son, nor does his son understand him. To his father, a boy losing virginity at the age of fifteen is normal, however, for Sevag it is the last thing he wants to indulge in, not least because of his repressed homosexuality.

It’s established smartly in the film’s opening that the film takes place in the midst of the AIDs crisis, on the night of Freddie Mercury’s death no less. For a while these fears are left to simmer in the background, but they never go away, and has its undertones in every line, for which credit must be given to writer Sahag Gureghian. When it does come back to the fore it potent and sensitively handled, serving only to amplify Sevag’s fears of both sex and coming out to his father - who thinks AIDs only affects gay people, whom he says have to die.

All this is revealed tenderly to Megan, herself a fully fleshed out character. There’s regret in what she does, but you sense that in talking to Sevag - rather than forcing the poor boy into something he doesn’t want to do - there’s some redemption or relief that she has taken that path in life. She helps him, of course, that is what the film is ostensibly about, but under the surface, he helps her too.

Such tenderness is reflected in the directing by Bradford Lipson, whose use of soft lighting only adds to the warmth and genuine care with which Megan handles Sevag. Each shot is well directed and at no point does the pace lag, it is an altogether well made film from a filmmaker with a bright future. Furthermore, Lipson brings the most out of Sebastian Rosero and Tammy Kaitz, who each give dynamic, vulnerable performances, and bounce off each other well.

‘Motel Room’ is a beautifully, tragic film in many ways. It is one that remains important even though we’ve moved on from the times that it depicts, and that in itself is tragic, but it is beautiful because it contains such warmth and ultimately hope for a better, more understanding world.

“All things bright and beautiful as they say” runs contrary to both The Emerald Wasp’s sickly visual language and its sinister message, for this short film is anything but. The liturgy in the idiomatic phrase serves only as a sardonic overture to a film that repudiates such pastoral optimism in favour of a more grim natural order.

Peter Renzullo crafts a seven-minute narrative steeped in unease, where nature's most grotesque manipulations draw reflections to the darker aspects of human relationships. For a seven-minute chatty little chamber piece, one that refreshingly disregards expository information that would find the script operating outside the present conversation, The Emerald Wasp could be considered airy if not for the crushing weight its central analogy imposes.

The film opens in the same confines it finds its conclusion. A single room, one table, two people on either end. Khan (Jay Jay Jegathesan), a discernible demoniac who shares the tale of the emerald wasp and Isabella (Mirae Jang), who principally listens with an odd subservience. The Emerald Wasp marks the growing tension between the two, leveraging the chilling biology of its titular insect — a creature that subdues its prey with methodical cruelty — as both a literal and symbolic framework, reducing the abstraction inherent in themes of control, parasitism, and the fragility of autonomy down to singular universal instincts stipulated by the laws of nature. Essentially it’s eat or be eaten, you’re either in control or you’re not.

The short film’s visual language, marked by a veneer of jaundiced greens and decaying hues, forgoes any striking colour contrasting or traditional beauty, replacing it with a visual malaise that mirrors the wasp’s morbid elegance. Without the tax that depth of surroundings or colour demand, the film’s flat overlay fatigues the eyes, lulling you into a kind of semi-consciousness, solely hooked on the rhythmic cadence found in the monologue of a madman.

Renzullo isn’t worried about the calibre of acting on screen and it shows — he shoots with a suffocating intimacy bringing us face-to-face with Khan. Interestingly, it’s not until the film’s final moments that Renzullo pans the camera around for us to see Isabella, revealing what we could have guessed mere seconds in, that she’s sitting across the table from the mad philosopher against her will, tied to the chair. At this point we don’t know what’s worse: having to endure the torture she’ll inevitably succumb to or listen to her oppressor drone on about his deranged beliefs any longer.

As the incessant sounds of clock ticks propel The Emerald Wasp to its logical conclusion, we realise it is less a conventional short film and more a condensed thesis on the ubiquitous grammar felt in every intersection of life that dictates control. This is not a film that aims to shock; rather, it seeks to unsettle, to burrow under the skin and linger like the phantom sting of its namesake.

A short comedy drama from Northern Ireland written and directed by Carleton Rodgers and starring Jake Doyle, Helena Bereen and Bernadette Brown.

Teenager Danny (Doyle) lives in Northern Ireland and is a massive fan of American singer and actor Frank Sinatra, having decorated his bedroom with photographs and newpaper articles about the celebrity and listening to and singing his hits. However, he keeps his admiration a secret from others, especially his friends. Then, the boiler in his home needs to be replaced and his family cannot afford a new one. When his grandmother (Bereen) informs him that his school is organising a talent show that offers prize money to the winner, a reluctant Danny must decide whether he can overcome his personal issues and perform and win so that they can buy a new boiler.

A feel-good story with a likeable protagonist and supporting characters. Since the plot involves Sinatra, it should come as no surprise that the soundtrack includes some of the singer's hits such as It All Depends on You, It Had to Be You and Someone to Watch Over Me, making the audible experience quite pleasant and even more pleasant thanks to the contributions from composer James Everett and The Belfast Jazz Swing Orchestra. As good as the audio is, the screenplay is also to be commended as it is intriguing and inspiring, focusing on a youth who has a big passion, yet is does not seem to have the courage to share it with the world because he thinks low of himself. The overall atmopshere is uplifting, with humour, heart-warming moments and plenty of singing.

Although the film has a good script, perhaps the characters of Danny' mother (Brown) and Hannah (Bailie), Danny's love interest, could had been explored in more depth with the intention of adding more quality to these two characters.

Doyle delivers a sympathetic performance as Danny, a nice, well-meaning guy who adores Sinatra and sadly lacks the self-esteem to reveal it to others as he is worried about what other people will think of him. Bereen stands out as Danny's grandmother, an optimistic and cheerful elderly woman who also likes Sinatra. She believes in her grandson and encourages him to share his passion with the world. Unfortunately, his mother thinks otherwise. The group of boys that serve as Danny's friends are different than him, as they are loud and a bit unruly and are led by Ciaran (Devlin), who is wild but a good guy.

Through Danny's character the film explores low self-esteem, having an idol and a passion. His grandmother represents the significance of support and the idea that one should not be afraid to be who they really are and that by doing so, good things happen. Furthermore, the story explores financial difficulties, that money does not matter and that great joy is to be found when a person reveals their passion. And of course, the happiness that can be found in singing is present and the film pays homage to Frank Sinatra.

What is there to gain by viewing this short? Experiencing an uplifting and moving story about sharing one's passion with others. Fans of Sinatra will most likely enjoy it and so will people who appreciate a story about being oneself and pursuing what makes them happy.

A young girl in South Africa is taken on a journey by her ranger friend to see some real, live rhinos, but when poachers turn up to cut the rhino’s horn the girl’s life takes a dramatic turn.

From Six Feet Films and Kindred Films, The Last Ranger is the second production in a proposed series of twenty-four from the When The World Stopped series. The idea, from co-founders and producers Darwin Shaw and Will Hawkes, is to make these films in collaboration with local artists around the world in order to tell the stories most relevant to the issues these communities were facing during the global pandemic. In this, the South African entry into the anthology, we follow Litha (Mroqoza) as she spends a day like no other, unknowingly being inducted into the way of the wildlife ranger, which will have far-reaching consequences for her and her future.

Litha lives with her father and her grandmother. They are poor and have become desperately more so since the pandemic hit, stopping as it did, all tourism and any money coming into the community. Litha’s father, Thabo (Ndebele) must leave for a while to go and find some work, though he does not say where he is going. In the meantime, Litha must get herself out of her grandmother’s hair, knowing herself to be, and having being told so many times – just ‘too wild’ to be underfoot.

So, Litha picks up the wooden animal figurines which her father has carved and resolves to take them to one of the lodges to sell for cash. On the way she meets Khuselwa (Qongqo), the last local ranger who has been protecting and recording the numbers of rhino in the area. Khuselwa tells Litha that the lodges are closed because of the pandemic and will not open for many months, then, seeing the despair in the child’s eyes, offers to take her to see some real rhinos who also live wild and free, just as she does.

The relationship between Khuselwa and Litha is very open and honest and builds quickly as they traverse the land in their jeep. Litha has never used a video camera before and when she sees herself in the viewfinder, as Khuselwa records, a tender moment of childhood innocence is shared. Litha marvels at the sight of the wildlife surrounding her, learning the English name for ‘giraffe’ and being introduced to the rare white rhino. One female rhino in particular, Thandi, is known to Khuselwa and she listens to the voices of the two women in the jeep as they continue their conversation around her. It is only when Thandi starts ‘dancing’ in a strange way that the reality of the situation is revealed and Khuselwa must do everything she can to keep both Thandi and Litha safe.

Throughout The Last Ranger we are treated to some incredible shots of the South African landscape from director Cindy Lee and cinematographer James Adey. There are plenty of tracking shots across the ground, along with aerial shots from above, which really pull the audience into the South African veldt and set the scene beautifully. There is plenty of colour and light coming into the picture from the sun and the vegetation, and once the real, live animals start coming into the frame it really does feel like you’re on safari. The music, too, from composer John Powell, uses local sounds and instruments along with the empowering voices of the Thanda Choir to round out the experience of being enveloped by the wild South African landscape.

It is this marriage of the power of the visuals and the strength of the narrative which stands The Last Ranger out as a tour de force in independent filmmaking. As we are brought into Litha, Khuselwa and Thandi’s story we get to share their hopes and fears in up-close and personal detail. The quick turns offer smiles and tears in equal measure and despite the short time we have to get to know them, the characters spare no emotion in helping us to identify with their plight. Each actor does a great job in their own right but it is Liyabona Mroqoza as Litha who really holds the heart of this film, delivering a stunningly visceral performance that is well beyond her years to tell us just what this story means.

The Last Ranger is an important and insightful film which tells its story with immediacy and integrity. It is a visual spectacle as well as a well-crafted narrative joy, where the audience can experience their heart beating solidly in their chest whilst also having the bitter taste of blood in their mouth. The strong message behind The Last Ranger resonates far beyond the plains of South Africa, and as such it is one of the most useful lockdown films to have been made by anyone thus far.

Peace Process is the fascinating new political drama about the conflict in Aceh, Indonesia from 1991 to 2004. We follow a war journalist as he fights against the bureaucratic forces which aim to silence the truth, and to expose the horrific realities of the oppression against the Aceh people. It’s a strong short, and one which should be seen. In terms of its overall narrative structure, you’ll notice that the film experiments with chronology: we’ll go from one scene depicting legal proceedings, followed by a scene of our protagonist in the thick of the conflict, and then back again to the present. This is an intelligent way of explaining the protagonist’s intentions, and this isn’t the only way the film uses perspective and form to tell an engaging story.

One of the most effective characteristics of the movie’s visual style is how long focal lengths will be implemented to compress space. This works particularly well within the conference/court setting – wherein the significant space between people sitting across from one another at tables is emphasised through the filmic language. The lens makes it so two subjects in an over-the-shoulder shot occupy a balanced place in the frame, removing the space between them through compression. And yet, this also infuses the images with a claustrophobic realism; a documentary aesthetic combined with something cinematic and vivid. This is intelligent direction, and a sign of a higher-level product. On another technical point, it should be noted how spatial geography – in terms of blocking and eye-lines – is executed pretty seamlessly, which is not so easy when it comes to sequences consisting of tens of people occupying the same space.

In contrast, the main issue with the film’s look is, unfortunately, the lighting and colour. Although, that’s not to suggest that there aren’t strong examples of both practices in the picture -- there is. A clear display of competence and ability is present throughout; however, viewers may find that certain shots look slightly flat. For the dramatic sensibility the filmmakers have chosen, one would like to see a lighting style which incorporates more darkness into the mix, and perhaps a more dynamic and interesting colour palette. It might be that there is, in fact, strong lighting in its making; but sadly, most evidence of this is lost to the washed-out digital medium. The sterile white light makes sense in the abstract for procedural scenes, but the picture misses a trick by not matching the aesthetic with the often heightened tone – this is, after all, work filled with emotional monologues and expository dialogue, which it uses to its advantage.

On the other hand, audiences may not pay so much attention to these technical nit-picks when its overwhelming strength is in its prescient story and social intent. We not only admire the progressive attitudes the film displays, but find ourselves being actively confronted with the terror of injustice. This, in turn, may also encourage the spectator to consider the state of their modern world (horrors of the oppression of Palestinian people certainly occupied my mind while viewing). All this to demonstrate that, despite stylistic missteps, this is a mostly strong and thought-provoking piece. Affecting for its complex portrayal of geo-politics; admirable for its aim to bring real-world atrocities to light and depict an individual inspired to fight for the truth.

A short psychological thriller written and directed by Fareed Kairon and starring Jon Allen Russo and Garance Chansigaud-Fargepallet.

The plot centres on Daniel (Russo) an actor who is auditioning for a part. For his audition, he is performing a dramatic scene with Jane (Fargepallet), a young actress who is also hoping get a role. Daniel deeply fancies Jane, however he does not know how to approach her. As time goes by, his mental state proceeds to deteriorate as he becomes obsessed with Jane and unhealthily influenced by the character that he plays.

The intriguing plot and Russo's dramatic performance are key stengths in this film that places the viewer into the mind of a mentally troubled man. Filmed in black-and-white, this short's atmosphere feels dark and uneasy as the story follows Daniel as he nervously and desperately pursues Jane, attemtping to make a connection. What is supposed to be a simple series of auditions turns sinister due to Daniel's awkward and disturbing behaviour and the eerie atmosphere is further enhanced by Coor Brow-Obles and Dominic Cade's unsettling music.

The screenplay effectively creates a story about a man's troubed state of mind and his desires, however, perhaps it would had been beneficial if the character of Jane was explored more thoroughly, just to give a better understanding regarding why Daniel likes her so much.

As mentioned, Russo's performance is one of the strongest elements and it is vital in order for the film to have an effect. Russo portrays a lonely man who is a talented actor and by being attracted to Jane and not being with her, he has found himself in a situation that is tearing him apart. The audition that the two of them take part in involves a scene where Russo plays a character who is ruthless, quite the opposite to Daniel, an insecure guy who seems to lack communication skills and self-esteem. The sinister character part appears to be having serious effects on Daniel, affecting his personality and making him question who he is. Of course, commendations also go to Fargepallet for her portrayal of a cheerful and talented actress.

Through Daniel, the film explores a variety of psychological subjects. Dissociative identity disorder seems to be one, as Daniel's mind appears to be intruded by the character that he plays. Additionally, themes involving insecurity, obsession self-esteem and self-expression are present. From another point of view, the film also provides an insight into the world of acting and seems to suggest that acting can influence people in negative ways.

This short looks into the psychological deterioration of an actor who is suffering from being unable to be happy and from being influenced by an acting role. It is a dark commentary about mental health.