Drama
The Act
Directed by Paniz Shahmoradi Fard
Warning – This review may contain spoilers.
The Act presents a surreal and thought-provoking narrative in which a clown sits at a table filled with food and drinks. As six stylishly dressed individuals enter, each hands him an envelope containing various requests. For each task the clown completes—whether it be a magic trick or something increasingly degrading—he earns a share of the food and drink. What begins as a performance quickly spirals into a dark commentary on the relationship between artists and their audiences. The requests become more demanding, pushing the clown into a state of mental and physical harm, illustrating the dehumanizing effects of sacrificing one’s artistry for survival.
At its core, The Act explores the psychological and emotional toll that performance takes on an artist when their work is shaped and manipulated by external demands. The clown’s gradual breakdown serves as a metaphor for how an artist can be coerced into diminishing their creative integrity to appease the audience. The film successfully portrays this complex dynamic through a narrative that feels simultaneously absurd and tragically poignant. The clown’s progression from lighthearted entertainer to a figure of suffering evokes empathy and raises important questions about the cost of creative expression in a society that values entertainment over authenticity.
Visually, the film is striking. The lighting enhances the mood of the piece, with the warm glow of the food-filled table contrasting against the colder, harsher light as the film progresses. The cinematography, particularly in the more intimate moments when the clown is grappling with the emotional weight of his performance, effectively immerses the audience in his experience. The editing is dynamic, creating a seamless flow between the increasingly unsettling requests and the clown’s reactions. Sound design, while somewhat hollow in certain areas, fits the overall surreal tone of the film, adding an eerie quality that underscores the disturbing nature of the clown’s predicament. Despite some of the sound feeling intentionally artificial, it works well within the context of the narrative, contributing to the film’s heightened reality.
The film’s metaphor of the clown’s struggle for food as a symbol for survival is powerfully communicated, though some aspects of the narrative could be interpreted as abstract, leaving viewers to piece together the full depth of its themes. Nevertheless, the clarity of the film’s message—the degradation of artistic integrity for the sake of societal approval—comes across effectively. The audience is left to question whether the clown’s efforts were worth the pain he endured, as the film closes without a satisfying resolution for the protagonist.
The Act is an ambitious and unsettling exploration of the artist-audience relationship. While its metaphor may be slightly abstract for some, its universal themes of sacrifice, survival, and the cost of art resonate deeply. The film’s visual strength and emotional weight make it a powerful debut for Paniz Shahmoradi Fard as a director. Audiences who enjoy thought-provoking, metaphorical narratives will find much to appreciate in this darkly compelling short film.
Drama
The Witch of Endor
Directed by Derek Hutchins
Warning – This review may contain spoilers.
The Witch of Endor, directed by Derek Hutchins, adapts the biblical story of King Saul (Dave Martinez) as he seeks out the Witch of Endor (Ehlana Bo) in a desperate attempt to summon the spirit of the Prophet Samuel (Devin Tanner). Saul is shunned by God and in his final act of desperation he turns to the supernatural for guidance on how to save his kingdom. This short film does a great job of capturing the dark, mystical atmosphere surrounding the story as it navigates themes of power, fear, and spiritual conflict.
Martinez’s portrayal of King Saul is solid capturing a man who is on the verge of losing everything and frantically grasping at anything that might save him. Ehlana Bo brings a haunting presence to the film although her introduction from a distance takes away some of the immediate tension. While the story is grounded in biblical context the performances particularly during the scenes of Saul’s desperation and his violent confrontation with the Witch, convey the emotional weight of the story even for those unfamiliar with the original biblical narrative.
That said the film does feel like a piece of a larger story. The characters have potential for deeper exploration but their development feels somewhat limited by the runtime. There are missed opportunities to delve into Saul’s deteriorating mental state or to build more tension in the scenes between the Witch and Saul. For example, close-ups during their confrontation would have added intensity and given more depth to their interactions. Additionally, the story relies heavily on exposition delivered through opening text, which lessens the impact of the characters’ dialogue and the weight of their choices.
Visually the film is striking, making great use of lighting especially considering the nighttime setting and reliance on torch and firelight. The compositions are well thought out and the choice to have much of the action play out in low light contributes to the eerie mood. However there are some shots that feel slightly out of focus which can be a bit distracting in moments of high tension. Despite this the sound design and editing do a good job of immersing the audience in this mystical world. The melancholic score and the crackling sounds of the fire help to create a sense of foreboding as Saul’s fate becomes increasingly grim.
Overall, The Witch of Endor is a visually strong adaptation of a biblical tale though its short runtime limits the depth and emotional connection the story could achieve. The performances, especially by Martinez as Saul, are engaging and the film’s style is effective in setting the stage for a mystical and ominous narrative.
The Witch of Endor is a solid short film that showcases an intriguing moment from the Bible but it misses some opportunities to fully flesh out its characters and build a more intense emotional connection. The cinematography, sound design, and performances do much to bring the story to life. Fans of biblical adaptations or mystical narratives will likely appreciate the atmosphere and tension of the film.
Drama
Wildcat
Directed by Laurie Powers Going
Warning – This review may contain spoilers.
Wildcat tells the story of Clara (Brenda Hattingh Peatross) a determined mother searching for answers after her husband, Sam (Johnny Chops), and daughter, Dottie (Elle Graper), mysteriously disappear. Set in early 1900s Texas during the oil boom, the film weaves themes of desperation, isolation, and the supernatural as Clara stalks the crew Sam worked with, believing them responsible for her family’s disappearance. The narrative takes a darker turn when Dottie suddenly reappears, but with something unsettling about her. Throughout a long, tension-filled night, Clara and Otis, the oil well owner (Adam Kitchen) come face to face, while a malevolent force toys with them.
The film effectively builds suspense and I found Clara’s desperation to be compelling as Peatross delivers a strong performance that carries the weight of her character’s emotional turmoil. Her portrayal of a mother driven by grief and anger anchors the film’s tension. However, the story leaves some critical gaps. There’s no clear explanation about how long Sam and Dottie have been missing or what circumstances led to their disappearance, which makes it harder to connect deeply with Clara’s quest. Dottie’s ghostly return, while eerie, lacks the necessary backstory to make her presence feel fully justified within the narrative, which diminishes the emotional impact of the film’s conclusion.
The sound design creates a tense atmosphere especially with the ominous noises that heighten the sense of dread. However, the song choice at the very end doesn’t fit with the rest of the film’s tone. The cinematography misses the opportunity to fully showcase the vast, desolate plains of Texas, which could have deepened the themes of isolation and loneliness. While the editing was uneven in sustaining the horror aspects, there are standout moments, particularly the scene where Otis throws a knife at Dottie’s ghost, a sequence that is both chilling and well-executed.
The performances were solid with Brenda Hattingh Peatross bringing a strong sense of intensity to Clara, and Adam Kitchen’s portrayal of Otis offering a grounded counterbalance to her increasingly frantic behavior. Johnny Chops brings a subtle but important layer to Sam’s backstory through flashbacks, while Elle Graper as Dottie brings an eerie, unsettling presence to her ghostly role.
Wildcat struggles to fully connect due to its lack of clear backstory and character development. The plot feels disjointed at times, and the motivations behind certain supernatural elements remain unclear. The final scene, while visually striking, doesn’t carry the emotional weight it could have if the film had done more to build the relationship between Clara, Sam, and Dottie.
Wildcat explores themes of desperation, grief, and isolation within the framework of a thriller set in the Texas oil boom. While Laurie Powers Going delivers a suspenseful short, and the cast, particularly Brenda Hattingh Peatross and Adam Kitchen, bring strong performances, the film leaves too many questions unanswered. I feel audiences seeking a slow-burn thriller may appreciate the tension. I just wanted more backstory and deeper character connections. Still, its worth a watch!
Drama
Measure of Creation
Directed by Ashton Sterling Bingham
Warning – This review may contain spoilers.
Measure of Creation is a heartfelt short film that allows us to see the world through Lydia’s innocent eyes, where life’s simple moments—like spending time with family or riding her bike—become extraordinary. I couldn’t help but feel the warmth and joy that Lydia experiences as she shares the things that make her happy. It’s an easy film to follow and I found it to be a comforting and heartwarming reminding me of the beauty in everyday life.
The cinematography really stood out to me. The close-ups and the different angles, like the shot from under Lydia’s bike handle, made me feel like I was right there with her, experiencing her excitement firsthand. The lighting was bright and uplifting, adding to the warmth of the film. The editing flowed smoothly, capturing the fun moments Lydia shared with her family, and the sound was clear, making sure Lydia’s voice and emotions were always at the forefront. The score was subtle yet powerful, especially during the moments when Lydia reflects on her late grandfather.
I connected with this film on a personal level, particularly as someone who once experienced childhood in much the same way—finding joy in the routine of everyday life. The way the film captures the love between Lydia and her family was deeply relatable, especially during the tender moments that reflect on the importance of family connections.
This film shines with its strong cinematography and editing. The lighting complements the uplifting and joyous tone, while the sound design ensures Lydia’s story is clearly told. The score adds an extra emotional layer without overwhelming the scenes, keeping the focus on the heartfelt moments.
Measure of Creation is a beautiful reflection on the simple joys of life seen through the eyes of a child. With its stunning visuals, heartwarming narrative, and emotional depth, the film left me feeling both nostalgic and uplifted. I think audiences will easily connect with its charm and authenticity, making it a film that resonates long after the credits roll.
