Horror
Burn Out
Directed by Russell Goldman
Burn Out is a bold and surreal short film that dives deep into the absurdity of work culture and the extreme lengths people go to succeed. Directed by Russell Goldman and produced by Jamie Lee Curtis, this high-octane horror short explores the relentless drive for success through the lens of a desperate assistant who will stop at nothing to get a presentation in front of his boss—literally setting himself on fire in the process. The film is anchored by strong performances from Everett Osborne and Tommie Earl Jenkins, whose intensity brings the story’s dark humor and grotesque reality to life.
The film is technically impressive, with slick editing and inventive cinematography that amplify the chaos of the protagonist’s downward spiral. The camera work captures the claustrophobic nature of office life, while the sharp lighting enhances the horror elements. The use of prosthetics and practical effects, especially in the final act, adds a visceral edge that leaves a lasting impression. However, some sound elements, particularly during the more chaotic sequences, could have been clearer, as the rapid pacing sometimes muddles dialogue. Still, the overall production quality is remarkably high, considering the short film’s runtime and setting in the abandoned Quibi offices.
Narratively, Burn Out pushes the boundaries of office satire, blending body horror with biting commentary on burnout culture. The assistant’s increasingly bizarre and self-destructive actions illustrate the destructive cycle of overwork, while the corporate environment pushes him further into desperation. The film toes the line between dark comedy and horror, making the viewer laugh uneasily while simultaneously cringing at the sheer madness unfolding on screen. The film’s climax, where the protagonist quite literally burns out, is both unsettling and thought-provoking, questioning how far one might go for recognition or approval in a toxic workplace.
While the film may leave some viewers scratching their heads at its over-the-top absurdity, it offers a unique perspective on a familiar struggle. It’s a short that horror fans and corporate satire enthusiasts alike will appreciate for its originality, humor, and shocking conclusion. Burn Out will stick with audiences long after the screen goes dark.
Fantasy
The Pearl Comb – The Watchlist
Recently, a short film caught my attention after being selected at several Oscar-qualifying festivals around the country. That film is The Pearl Comb.
In 1893, an endearing Cornish fisherman’s wife captures the attention of the medical profession as the first person to cure someone of tuberculosis. A doctor—determined to prove that a woman’s place is in the home and not in medicine—is sent to investigate her miraculous claim, only to discover the source of her unearthly power.
The film is directed by Ali Cook, who’s no stranger to making compelling shorts. His previous work, The Cunning Man, screened at 88 international festivals and won 33 awards.
Several aspects of The Pearl Comb stood out to me, the first being its production design. I’m a stickler for immersive storytelling, and this film pulled me right into 1893 Cornwall. Everything—from the sound design to the visual details—kept me rooted in the world, never distracted by anything outside the moment.
Speaking of sound design, it was spot-on. It didn’t feel overly polished just for the sake of clarity—it felt natural, lived-in, and perfectly matched the tone of the story.
Ali Cook not only directed but also took on the role of the doctor, delivering a layered performance while crafting a well-thought-out, multi-dimensional story.
Beattie Edney was outstanding in her role. Every moment she was on screen felt authentic and fully in service of the story. She made it look effortless, but having seen many films this season at the Utah International Film Festival, I can say her performance could be a masterclass for many actors.
Clara Paget, the Mermaid, has a natural ability to command the viewer’s attention. Her performance was subtle yet intense, with an impressive range—from meek and humble to ferocious and otherworldly. Her ability to communicate so much with just her eyes was remarkable.
The film also owes much of its success to cinematographer Dave Miller. Dave shaped the lighting and color as if they were another character in the story. Many horror-leaning films hide in shadow, but here, every detail of the set was visible while still maintaining a consistent, moody tone. A standout moment for me was the light in the tank toward the end—an inspired choice that gave the climax a vital splash of color.
This production clearly had an entire team operating at a high level across every department—something you’d expect from a modest-budget feature rather than a short. This wasn’t five friends with a camera; this was a small army, and they all delivered.
Pro tip: don’t leave the theater too soon—you’ll miss a post-credit scene.
Filmmakers often ask me what they can do to improve their short to increase festival success. In this case, I have no notes. The Pearl Comb is fantastic, and I’ll personally be championing it for festivals I’m involved with. It’s that good.
Horror
Hidden
Directed by Matthew P. Camacho
WARNING! This review contains spoilers.
“Hidden” is a short film that captures the terror of isolation, focusing on the idea that fear often strikes hardest when we’re alone. The plot centers around a woman named Jewel, trapped in a closet, seemingly hiding from an unseen presence. The story aims to explore how fear can become overwhelming when there’s no escape and how the mind can play tricks in such situations.
If I were to program this film, I’d place it in a screening block emphasizing its focus on psychological horror and the fear of the unknown. The film opens with impressive visuals—lighting is dynamic, creating a haunting atmosphere that sets the stage for a tense experience. The sound design starts strong, enhancing the unsettling mood with ominous echoes and reverberations that echo Jewel’s growing fear. Despite these strong technical elements, the film struggles to maintain its initial momentum, as the cinematography becomes repetitive, relying on medium-close shots with color shifts that add little to the narrative. Editing also feels unmotivated, with the pacing failing to build the kind of suspense expected from a horror short.
As for the story, Hidden presents a straightforward scenario of fear manifesting in isolation, but it’s hard to grasp the broader narrative or deeper meaning behind Jewel’s plight. While the film does capture the essence of terror in a confined space, it falls short of delivering a satisfying or clear conclusion. I found myself wondering about the nature of the threat, what Jewel was truly hiding from, and whether there was more to her backstory. Audiences looking for a more layered psychological experience may feel underwhelmed by the lack of story progression.
Personally, the film resonated with me on the basic level of fear—no one enjoys feeling trapped or threatened, especially in darkness. It does a good job of encapsulating that raw, uncomfortable emotion. However, without a clearer plot or deeper character development, it’s hard to maintain that connection throughout. Hidden succeeds in capturing the initial fright but struggles to sustain its impact beyond that moment.
Fantasy
Artifex
Directed by Alan Lucchetti
WARNING! This review contains spoilers.
“Artifex” tells the story of a modern-day Renaissance man who embarks on a quest to uncover the truth about his mysterious condition, all while keeping it hidden from those closest to him. As the protagonist dives into this quest, he finds himself at the crossroads of history, myth, and the supernatural. The film sets an intriguing tone, combining elements of drama and thriller with a sense of ever-present darkness.
If I were to program Artifex at a festival, I’d likely place it in a screening block called “Shadowed Realms” or “Dark Echoes,” highlighting its themes of lurking danger and hidden truths. The sound design plays a crucial role in maintaining suspense, keeping viewers engaged with a sense of impending doom. Lucchetti’s eye for detail is evident, with strong visuals that enhance the story’s dark tone. Close-ups effectively draw attention to key dialogue moments, like the intense scene with the old man in the editing room. The lighting, especially in the opening car wash scene and the sound studio, plays with shadows in a captivating way, adding depth to the atmosphere. However, the use of artistic visuals during dialogue feels more distracting than enhancing, breaking the immersion.
In terms of story, Artifex follows two friends whose bond is tested when one steals a mystical necklace that amplifies the wearer’s voice and grants an almost invincible feeling. The two eventually reconcile, but the film’s narrative lacks clarity. Key elements, such as the significance of the necklace or the protagonist’s motivations, remain unclear. I found myself puzzled by what the main character hoped to achieve by breaking into the house, as well as the purpose of the burning man’s presence. The reconciliation between the friends feels oddly casual given the stakes, leaving me unsure of the protagonist’s emotional journey.
On a personal level, Artifex didn’t resonate deeply with me, mainly due to its confusing plot and lack of narrative momentum. While the film offers some stunning visuals and a haunting atmosphere, the story’s repetitions and minimal conflict kept it from fully engaging me. Despite these issues, the film might appeal to viewers who enjoy visually driven, mood-centric stories. Overall, Artifex presents an ambitious blend of thriller and supernatural drama, but it struggles to deliver a coherent story that matches its atmospheric style.
