Bright

I can't remember the last time I've seen such a truly poetic film – virtually every frame and every line of dialogue comes off as unbelievably precise composition. The acting across the board feels very "lived in," nuanced in a natural way. Nenninger (Troy) is a quiet force: he keeps his fears and loss bottled-up in a taut physicality, and only through his eyes can we get a sense of the emotional turbulence within. Robert Wisdom (Irwin) wonderfully inhabits the complex father (/mother) figure to Troy's lost child, urging his surrogate son to muster the courage to journey into the harsh light—and sometimes darkness—of the real world.

There's a lot of trust here on the part of writer/director Benjamin Busch—a trust in the viewers to engage themselves with the film and work to fill out the narrative, or rather, what's going on beneath the given narrative. Bright is a bit of an iceberg: we're given a straightforward drama on the surface, with a whole lot of seriously weighty matter floating underneath. It'll stick with you long after the final shot, leaving you thinking about your own fears, your own piece of childhood that you may keep alive without even knowing it, about the pools of light and darkness in our lives and how we navigate between them. Bright is an intensely contemplative film and its pace reflects this, but if you allow yourself the time and effort to deeply breath it in, you'll be richly rewarded.

Busch has crafted a profoundly resonant short, and on a shoestring no less. I can only imagine how dangerous he'd be with some money for a feature. Definitely catch this on the festival circuit if you can.