Chandler Clarke’s Bzrk is a 17-minute sci-fi horror which asks, What can we do with our anger and our fear, which is always ostensibly in excess, always ostensibly incompatible with the ideal life of the ideal citizen?
Its protagonist, a man whose scars are manifestations of his life ruled by his demons, but who must also contend with their superhuman manifestation. Like a darker spin on Disney’s Rapunzel , Anders (Ben Gavin) essentially glows with the embers of rage, his fists threatening to let loose their tongues of flames—he is the blazing counterpart of Queen Elsa, both sharing the frantic fear of themselves.

The world of Bzrk is, of course, much darker, visually and tonally. Arriving for his appointment with his therapist (Regina Schneider) in a building that reminds you of the world of 2023’s Beau is Afraid as much as 2019’s Joker , the barrage of negative stimuli force Anders into a literal corner of the cramped elevator. Standing there in the turbulent, sickly lit car with the hood of his dripping rain jacket up, Anders has nowhere to run from his external or internal torments. All he can do is give himself hopelessly ineffectively affirmations while things practically vibrate with their eagerness to fall apart. And that’s just the beginning.
The major dramatic scene of the film involves more personal interaction than uncomfortable strangers (Sean-Michael Wilkinson, Toni Lachelle Pollitt, and Brian David Tracy) taking the same rundown elevator: his appointment with Dr Wagner. The name brings Expressionism to mind, which sets the stage right for Wagner and Anders’ back and forth, leading to Anders reluctantly submitting himself to someone else’s manoeuvrings. Dr Wagner is the centrepiece of her office, her magnetism and power reflected in her clothes and makeup, the red of her lipstick especially standing out like a gleaming blade against a backdrop of blue-green and golden tones.

From here on, the tone shifts specifically into an intense and accelerated mindscape of horror, the kind of flavour that AI loves to mimic. The pace becomes relentless, the colour sharp, the visuals psychological. Anders’ torment is brought to life, writhing and convulsing under Dr Wagner’s guidance. There is a recognisable influence of Get Out ’s Missy Armitage in her characterisation, down to the teacup and spoon, here replaced with a Tibetan brass singing bowl—which also brings Doctor Strange to mind, especially in conjunction with Dr Wagner’s costume and Anders’ abilities (which to him are still hindrances).
Bzrk seems to set up for a sequel or a feature film with its ending, but even as a standalone, the final seconds form the sort of hook that invites you to imagine where the story goes from here (and the film begs you to make it a superhero arc). But superhero or misunderstood villain, the underlying idea that Bzrk wants you to drive yourself up a wall for (instead of self-loathing) is how and when anger, that dangerous, capricious thing, can be a gift.
Watch Bzrk Horror Short Film Teaser Trailer
Bzrk: A Sci-horror That Asks If Anger Can Be a Gift
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