Retribution

Directed by Brock Eastwood

Warning – This review contains spoilers

My popcorn was all buttered up and I was set to check out Brock Eastwood’s Retribution when I found myself drawn into its intriguing dystopian premise. Set in a future world where therapeutic treatments are disguised as punishments for society’s criminals, the film tackles some big questions about morality, memory, and the consequences of an authoritarian system. The story centers around Nicholas (played by Dane Keckley), a young man seeking redemption or perhaps simply closure after a traumatic experience. He undergoes a novel “treatment” at a futuristic clinic, hoping to address the guilt and pain from losing someone he loved, only to discover that the process has darker implications.

One of the strengths of Retribution lies in the way it gradually reveals its world. At first, I wasn’t quite sure where the story was headed, but small details hinted at the dystopian nature of the society. The AI-enforced curfews, the rigid controls, and the dehumanizing clinical treatment all come together to paint a picture of a future that feels both frighteningly real and disorienting. The concept reminded me of films like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and 1984, especially in how it explores memory manipulation as a form of control. The comparison to Logan’s Run is also apt, given the film’s themes of life, death, and rebellion against a system that punishes those who step out of line.

Technically, the film had a few highs and lows. The cinematography, particularly in the outdoor scenes, was beautifully shot. There’s a sunset transition that felt genuinely poetic, adding a layer of emotional depth to the moment between Nicholas and Merin (Avery Pizzuto). However, the lighting in some interior scenes felt overexposed, making certain moments feel too harsh for the emotional weight they were trying to carry. Sound design was mostly solid, though I did notice some unclear dialogue in the opening scene, which could have benefited from a cleaner mix. Despite these minor issues, I thought the editing in key moments, especially the reveal of Nicholas’ memories, worked really well. The timing of these cuts built tension effectively, particularly as the film reached its emotional climax.

What fascinated me most about Retribution was its exploration of grief and memory. Nicholas is clearly haunted by the death of Merin, and the clinic offers him a chance to relive, if not alter, those painful memories. There’s something inherently tragic about a world where even our most intimate memories can be subject to manipulation. The twist near the end caught me off guard, although in hindsight, it felt inevitable. That unanswered mystery left me unsettled in a good way. It’s the kind of ambiguity that prompts further reflection.

I did feel the film could have been clearer in its world-building. Some of the dystopian elements, like why Merin died while Nicholas survived or the exact nature of the clinic’s purpose, weren’t fully fleshed out. These gaps in the narrative left me feeling slightly adrift, especially toward the end when the lines between reality and memory blur completely. The ending, while effective in its jarring nature, raised more questions than it answered. Why did Merin ultimately turn on Nicholas? Was it part of the “treatment” or something deeper within their relationship that we missed? These ambiguities could be intentional, but I found myself wishing for just a bit more clarity.

That said, I think audiences will appreciate Retribution for its ambitious storytelling and the questions it raises about memory, justice, and personal responsibility. The performances, particularly from Keckley and Pizzuto, were strong, with both actors delivering emotional depth in scenes that required subtlety. I also found the production design impressive, especially the use of minimalist, sterile environments in the clinic scenes, which heightened the cold, clinical feel of the dystopian world.

Retribution is a thought-provoking short film that, despite some narrative hiccups, offers a compelling look at how we process grief and guilt in a society that seeks to control even our memories. Fans of dystopian sci-fi and psychological thrillers will likely find much to enjoy here, especially in its exploration of love, loss, and the dangers of a system that prioritizes punishment over healing. It left me with a lot to think about—and in my book, that’s always a sign of a film that succeeds in leaving a lasting impact.