I was captivated by every rotting, eerie, and deeply claustrophobic moment of this film. The sense of impending calamity is rendered with such intimacy within the confines of a small space and brief timeframe that it almost feels suffocating. From the very beginning, there’s an undeniable weight of heartache and sorrow, pain and isolation. Only after stepping away did I fully grasp the depth of the title and its premise: at its core, it’s a meditation on accepting the anguish of grief and, quite literally, burning down the walls that hold us captive. To convey such overt themes while exploring them with such subtlety is no easy feat. I’m genuinely excited to see where Nina Gantz takes us next.

In the Shadow of Cypress is a haunting exploration of a captain grappling with PTSD, trying to navigate the rough waters of fatherhood while living with his young daughter. His life is a daily struggle, weighed down by past trauma, yet he desperately desires to be a caring, present father. But then, something unexpected happens—an event that could either deepen his suffering or prove to be a blessing in disguise.

The film weaves together imagery and context in a breathtaking, often challenging manner. Every minute of its brisk twenty-minute runtime is used to convey its core message with precision. The metaphors—the whale, the decaying hull of a nearly sinking ship, and the striking image of a man turning blue in the face as he confronts his trauma—blend together to form a poignant, emotionally mature thesis.

In the Shadow of Cypress teeters on the edge of pretension, but remarkably, it never falls into it. There isn't a single emotional beat or visual metaphor (and there are many) that doesn't land with an undeniable punch, digging deep into the heart and leaving an indelible impact.

This film delves into the complexities of male loneliness and the isolation we experience, even in a way that transcends gender. I found it to be a lovely, sensitive meditation on this theme, told through the lens of a hair transplant—an unexpected yet heartfelt setting. The struggle of confronting yourself in the mirror of a hotel room, alone both figuratively and literally, resonated deeply with me. It’s a painfully true depiction of fear and sadness that lingers long after the scene ends.

The character designs, which hover just on the edge of cartoonish, infuse the film with humor and a much-needed breath of life. This balance helps offset the more morose qualities of the story, creating a nuanced tone. The energy—or lack thereof—of the central characters seamlessly ties into the spectrum of loneliness that Beautiful Men meticulously explores, striking a wonderful equilibrium.

The film’s flat, glum ending, which questions the very decisions that shaped the plot, brings a sharp, sarcastic edge to the conclusion. It lands perfectly, leaving the audience with a satisfying yet reflective sense of closure. I truly enjoyed this film and deeply appreciate its thought-provoking message.

Absolutely exudes the trauma of childhood isolation in a beautiful heartfelt way. “Clever” doesn’t describe it well and “personal” feels diminishing. The angle at which it views the world is as bold as a child’s imagination. It’s sad for a moment, then bombastic, and finally sweet. In its short expression walks with you as you learn with this child just how we all must tenderly grow, and become ourselves. That will stick with me for a while.

The film absolutely captures the trauma of childhood isolation, but it does so in a way that’s unexpectedly beautiful and heartfelt. “Clever” doesn’t even begin to cover it, and calling it “personal” would be an understatement. The way it sees the world is as bold as a child’s imagination—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetic. One moment, it’s sad; the next, it’s downright bombastic; and then, it finds a quiet sweetness. In its brief runtime, it takes you on a journey, walking beside this child as they learn the hard truth—that growing up is a tender, painful, and necessary process. And that’s something that’ll stick with me for a long time.

Why is everyone kissing at this summer camp? 

I guess it goes to show that if you stare at two adults for long enough they will inevitably kiss. 

I found this cute, but little more than that. The animation, unfortunately, pulled me right out of the experience—it felt more like a Nickelodeon cartoon designed for toddlers than a short I could take seriously. I kept waiting for the lead character to suddenly turn to the camera and start asking me educational questions in French. 

“tu sais ce que signifie embrasser?” 

*pause* 

“peux-tu épeler baiser?”

non merci!  je vais emmener mes affaires ailleurs. 

 It was hard to shake the feeling that I was being prepped for a lesson on social etiquette rather than any deeper narrative.