The polar bear has become a universal symbol of (bi)-polar disorder. I think it’s more than just the name–as animator Marjan Entezar explains in this interview with Beatrice Wong, polar bears are so cute and endearing that they’re a great avenue to explore a mental illness that seems dark and scary to many people.
Marjan Entezar is open about living with bipolar disorder and her own purpose behind the animated short was increasing awareness and reducing stigma, which perfectly aligns with the mission of this festival. The film is short and clearly metaphorical in its pull between stark lightness and darkness. However, there is an intentional choice on the part of the filmmaker that should not go unmentioned–at one point there is a bottle of lithium pictured. The role of medication in bipolar disorder in particular is sometimes hotly contested, with many maintaining that people with the diagnosis must stay on medication forever or risk the devastating highs and lows of mania and depression. Marjan comments upon her experience with medication here as well, which is something that literally and figuratively brings this short short down to earth.
Huge thanks to our jury member Beatrice Wong for another fantastic interview, and to Marjan Entezar for being brave enough to share her experience with her diagnosis of bipolar disorder and this film! Also, the atmospheric music in this interview was provided courtesy of Yuhang.
Another student project that exhibits wisdom beyond its years is Saudade, created as a student project by the 21-year-old Kian Kelly. Kian managed to capture the spiral of a toxic relationship in a realistic and self-aware way I have rarely seen in other films about trauma and addiction, and he also calls back to Romeo and Juliet in adding an almost timeless feel to the story. Our intrepid jury member and talented filmmaker in his own right Nick Chirco gets the goods with Kian Kelly in a candid interview.
NC: Max is self centered, stubborn. I really didn’t like this character, and I want to assure you that reaction is a good thing. He’s possessive, posing on other people’s business even accepting graceful private issues like self-mutilation. Was this character meant to be so flawed, as to be such as what is referred to as a “byronic” hero?
KK: I’m glad you had a big reaction to the character! I absolutely wanted the audience to see him as some kind of byronic hero. The idea being; that he’s had such a traumatic past, that he has no choice but to act this way. Not acting this way has only made him lose things. My intention for this character was that the audience would hate the way he acts, but at the same time, also empathise with his intention of making a new family. Therefore, making the audience partly root for things to turn out okay whilst also hating him.
NC: There is a scene that involves reproductive rights. I almost think this is the tipping point where Max almost becomes as much of a problem as the father. Do you think she is trapped?
KK: I absolutely think she is trapped. She’s trapped by her lack of confidence and unwillingness to say no. To me, Natalie has so much empathy, that she puts other people’s needs above her own. She has done so with her father, and she’s reproducing the same behaviour with Max. Another case of “acting this way” because it’s the only way they know how.
NC: This movie is almost like a musical, I think that the redeeming thing about Max’s character is his voice. Were there any outtakes or b-sides you shot?
KK: I’m glad you liked his voice! This was a live performance on camera, so there were a couple outtakes to get the best performance. But there’s no b-side. I recorded a cover of the song myself, with the fingerpicking pattern and lyrics as a way for him to learn and that was it.
NC: Can you explain to me the type of gear you used, and crew? The film is very finely made!
KK: Thank you so much! The cinematographer I had used a Blackmagic URSA Camera and we plugged it into a boom mic. This was a student film, therefore this wasn’t a large crew. There was me (the director), the cinematographer, the two actors and we rotated through people for boom operator, slate, script supervisor. The crew sometimes was always 4-6 of us. I sometimes held the boom or helped out the camera operating. It was very small, but it needed to be in order to fit everyone in the small locations that we had. We had two houses. In one we used all the rooms, and the other we used the larger bathroom.
NC: How do you think tragedies like these can be averted with the help of community support and acceptance?
KK: I think these situations can be very dangerous and last a long time since both sides can think that they’re doing the “right thing” if that’s all they know. To avoid this, I think it’s crucial that they have outside communication with close friends or professionals, that would unconditionally want to help out their best interests. And more importantly, give an outsiders’ perspective to what your situation is really like. I actually based this story on a past relationship I had (much less extreme, but not so different psychologically). I was the Natalie in this situation. The worst thing I did was stay quiet about it. My thinking was that things would work out if both our intentions are there. But I was also too ashamed to say anything and neither of us were acting rationally. It wasn’t until after we broke up, I realised how important it was to talk to trusted people who accept you for your flaws and genuinely want to help you. They helped me put into perspective the actual dynamic of the relationship. Going to trusted people would help you put things in perspective. Therapists are paid to help people because it’s such an important responsibility to have. They get trained to help. They are amazing to go to for that reason.
There’s so many people suffering in silence, and I think the worst thing you can do is stay quiet about it. I believe most people have demons that they find hard to cope with. As for the friends who actually are genuinely happy, I think they should reach out because it’s sometimes so hard to have the strength to open up. Even if they haven’t acted different. You never know the catalyst that could get them to open up. For me, I just wanted someone to rescue me, I wanted someone to care. And as soon as I got that, things fell back into place.
We’ll be delving more into the youth in mental health shorts block now, which includes One Less Lonely Ghost. A short film by the young Madison Marie Timm about a college student who loses her friend to suicide, One Less Lonely Ghost has more going for it than just a great title. It’s based on, and feels like, a very personal experience, with the main character acting just how someone who has lost their best friend to suicide would act. Being too shocked or embarrassed to immediately tell others what happened may not seem logical, for instance, but it’s emotionally accurate. So much of this film seemed painfully true to the process of suicide loss grief, including using the Internet to look up possible drugstore ingredients for your own planned suicide–and then deciding not to follow through.
As you may have guessed from the title, this film ends on a hopeful note. The decision to live doesn’t feel trite or wrapped in a bow so much as a deliberate and difficult decision to change the narrative in the way that is still possible to do. It is a wise film for someone so young, and touches upon the vital topic of suicide among teens and young adults with great empathy and sensitivity.
The prevalence of post-traumatic stress syndrome and suicide among military veterans has been well-established and documented, but solutions and treatment are sadly still lacking. There is no transitional support for those returning home from service, and they are forced to navigate a complex VA health system that doesn’t have time for them and doesn’t understand their needs.
Mental Filmness has featured some powerful films about the link among veterans, PTSD, and suicide, but Final Fight distinguishes itself by exploring the brain science behind the trauma and the unique mental health challenges faced only by veterans. The film is a deep dive that covers topics I knew little about, like the commonality of sexual assault on the field, and military trainings and ceremonies that teach soldiers to break down their individuality and think of themselves as merely a cog in a team. As a result, veterans often return home feeling their value to society has diminished and they can’t find anyone who understands their specific experience. Many of them long to go back and re-enlist in the military despite their traumatizing experiences because they can’t adapt to civilian life again and they don’t feel seen and heard by anyone else.
Even among many films I’ve seen about PTSD, suicide, and the military, Final Fight stood out as having compelling subjects who spoke their truth candidly and by highlighting the way their brains change the broken support system they face when they get home—the final fight.
You can still find and watch Final Fight under the features section in the virtual festival for FREE from now through 11/2.
The inimitable Beatrice Wong is a pride and joy who truly embodies the spirit of Mental Filmness. A filmmaker who screened her innovative short film My Room 37 in the very first festival, she later signed on as an insightful and devoted jury member, watching and reviewing every film. Her perspective on both film and mental health has been invaluable the last few years.
Momo Cao made the beautiful and mesmerizing animated short Not Alone that kicks off the festival. What many may not pick up on is that Not Alone is about a cat that absorbs their twin sister during fetal development, a medical phenomenon known as chimerism. The story follows the cat’s battle with mental health, processing the pain until the sisters are reunited and turn into stars. However, Not Alone is open to many different interpretations, and the turbulent but ultimately hopeful immersive atmosphere of this unique and compelling short will resonate with audience members who have had to navigate the way through their own stormy periods to find their stars.
This conversation between Beatrice and Momo highlights the hope in this work and how though sometimes the mysteries of life and nature are outside of our control, our ability to cope with them and find the light at the end of the tunnel is not. Make sure to watch the lovely animated short Not Alone, which should be easy to do since it is the first short in the very first shorts block of the virtual festival!
We were really spoiled with creative and expressive hand-drawn animation this year! Note also that Beatrice took the time to make a very unique video for the interview, including the use of the meditative music of YUHANG, to set the tone. I love this!
It was an amazing year for animation at Mental Filmness! Another amorphous animated piece that could be open to multiple interpretations is Mothamorphosis by Kate Schneider. Although her director’s statement explains that the film was inspired by acceptance of her queer identity, it is easily relatable to people who struggle with any aspect of their identity or who are confused or in denial about their mental state.
The meticulous 2D animation here is vibrantly colorful and fluid, and uses imagery like that of fruit, a snake, and butterfly as visual motifs that symbolize desire, ridicule, and change and acceptance. It’s much easier to enjoy it while watching it as an expressive art piece than it is to listen about it, and at a two-and-a-half minute runtime perhaps you may wish to watch it again and again, like our jury did, entranced by its mesmerizing journey.
The only short film in the returning filmmakers’ block we haven’t covered yet is the animated short Crowboy. Crowboy was directed by a sibling animation team, Alexander and Cynthia S. White, and based on the artwork and writing of William Doan. This same dream team worked on Sticks and Stones, a film about men’s mental health and masculine pressure that played in the festival a few years back. I find their hand-drawn, storybook animation style visually stunning, and am pulled in right away by the organic, sketchy look.
Crowboy might not immediately jump out as being on point for the topic of mental health, but it’s important to recall how expressive and open to interpretation animation can be. While the narrative almost sounds like a children’s fable, the gothic illustrations give it a moody and ethereal vibe hinting at a darkness and loneliness beneath. The pictures are really what carry the unspoken words though, as they hint at a sense of melancholy and isolation that is a central part of childhood loneliness.
You still have time to watch Crowboy in Shorts Block No. 5, the returning filmmakers’ block, for FREE from now until 11/2:
If I was to point to a Mental Filmness filmmaker who was “indie” in the most literal sense of the word, returning filmmaker Tim Kail would probably be at the top of the list. For example, he wrote, directed, and starred in the short film Do Other People (along with his dog). A quietly powerful video diary of sorts, Tim as the main character is haunted by intrusive thoughts and ponders his coping mechanisms and to what extent others experience the same sort of thoughts of not belonging and self-harm.
As a result of Tim’s DIY approach to filmmaking, his films feel as raw, vulnerable, and personal as they truly are. It was great to catch up with Tim again as he is a good example of someone who has struggled with a serious mental illness and who has not only regained his footing, but has also developed a self-awareness of his own condition and the courage to explore it on film.
I love what Tim says here about intrusive thoughts never really going away, and sometimes feeling like a daily cycle or battle. That was what I felt at the ending of Do Other People: the relief of getting through another day while talking back to your thoughts, through meditation or cuddling with your pet or whatever works for you.
Tim is very good at capturing those very small moments that are part of a bigger mental health story, such as the way he portrayed the excitement and magical thinking brought on by the first blush of mania in I Was Not Who I Was, which played the festival a couple of years ago. By focusing on these quiet contemplative moments, so different from what many people think of when they think about mental health, I think his films actually feel more relatable and more universal.
Listen to the Mental Filmness interview with Tim below!
For anyone who might think they don’t have time to watch the features, I’d like to highlight Quiet, Arlo. At forty minutes long, it straddles the border between being a short film or a feature length, but its epic and cinematic presentation felt more in the spirit of a standalone feature to me. Directed with confidence and ambition by David Guerrero, this is an assured film that it’s difficult to believe was a student project from Studio 76 out of Weber State University. Based on real lived experience with bipolar disorder and addiction, it portrays those illnesses in depth, with style and substance to spare.
While I’ve seen many films about these topics, Quiet, Arlo does something different with a presentation I’d call slick and even “cool.” I wouldn’t say that the film makes having bipolar disorder or a substance use disorder “cool.” What I mean is, the film itself, with its frenzied voice-over and anxiety-inducing rapid cutting and panning, reminds me of films by cool, stylish directors like David Fincher and Martin Scorsese, which come to think of it, have also captured men struggling with mental health in their own way.
But Quiet, Arlo is not just cool, it’s also functional: the sound, monologue, and visuals in work together in conveying some of the more indescribable aspects of bipolar disorder as a visceral experience where you really get inside Arlo’s head. Abounding with hyper-literate metaphors capturing creative writer Arlo’s condition like deep-sea diving and playing with fire, his mind can be both a dark and beautiful place to be.
You can find Quiet, Arlo, in the features section of the virtual festival streaming for FREE now through 11/2: Quiet, Arlo | Mental Filmness 2025
Some Mental Filmness audience members might remember Hayley Nash from her film Make Up Your Mind, which played in the virtual festival a few years ago. Make Up Your Mind was a creative sci-fi film with a brilliant conceit: if you could trade your mentally ill (or otherwise defective) brain in for a new one, would you?
As a returning filmmaker, the film that Hayley entered into the year’s festival, Don’t Fail, is much different, while still retaining her characteristic feminist lens experimenting with unconventional ways of depicting mental health. A primary tenet of Don’t Fail seems to be show, don’t tell: the character’s struggles with obsessive-compulsive disorder (or OCD) during a female weightlifting competition are communicated through the lead character’s repetitive actions, the lighting, and the buzzing in the sound design. My conversation with Hayley was fascinating because I know nothing about the world of female weightlifting competition, and due to her experience with both that sport and OCD she is able to elaborate upon it in a detailed and eloquent way. Hayley touches upon the pressure to be perfect in fields like academics and sports, and how that can exacerbate OCD—so it can be helpful to know when to ground yourself or step away. Overall, Don’t Fail is a tense portrait of someone in the midst of a stressful achievement, meant to communicate that feeling to the viewer, and it is a sometimes uncomfortable but riveting watch.
Check out the Mental Filmness interview with Hayley Nash below, and make sure to watch Don’t Fail while it is still streaming for FREE in the virtual festival for the next week: Don’t Fail | Mental Filmness 2025
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