A troubled screenwriter spirals into paranoia when faced with selling his script and possibly his soul in Chris Esper’s surreal short film Michael Solace.
Set largely across a series of increasingly disorienting encounters, Michael Solace explores the anxiety that lives at the heart of creative ambition. Michael, played with intensity by Justin Thibault, is a writer on the verge of a career breakthrough. His latest screenplay, titled The Gunman, sits on the table in front of him as he waits in a restaurant that seems to hum with the sounds of deals being made. Yet from the outset, something feels off. Conversations blur, faces drift in and out of focus, and it becomes unclear whether what we are seeing is reality, memory, or something born entirely from Michael’s fractured state of mind.

Director Chris Esper leans confidently into that uncertainty. The film quickly shifts from industry drama into psychological horror, charting Michael’s internal collapse as he wrestles with a dilemma that many artists quietly fear. He wants his work to be seen, celebrated, and financed, but he also fears losing control over the very thing that defines him. That conflict drives the narrative forward, even as the film itself bends and twists around him.
Diana Porter plays Monica Vallencia, an agent figure who appears calm, supportive, and reassuring on the surface. Yet there is always a slight edge to her presence, a sense that she sees Michael less as an artist and more as an asset. Their conversations are some of the film’s strongest moments. Monica speaks in soothing tones about opportunity and success, while Michael’s responses grow more frantic, revealing just how fragile his sense of self has become. Porter handles this balance beautifully, offering warmth that never quite feels safe.
As Michael flees the restaurant and wanders into stranger territory, the film’s tone darkens. He encounters unsettling figures, including a former writer who serves as a warning of what happens when creative compromise goes too far. These scenes build toward a disturbing sequence in the woods where the industry itself takes on an almost cult like presence. Monica reappears, now leading a masked group tied symbolically to the machinery of filmmaking. The message is clear without being heavy handed. Success comes at a cost, and that cost may be more than artistic.

As the titular Michael Solace, Justin Thibault carries the film with a performance rooted in desperation and fear. He captures the mental spiral of someone who is both terrified of failure and equally terrified of what success might demand. His Michael is not a heroic dreamer but a deeply human one, flawed, anxious, and painfully aware of how easily his work can be taken from him. That emotional honesty grounds the more surreal elements and keeps the audience connected even when reality begins to fracture.
Technically, the film is impressively crafted. Cinematographer John Westcott gives the restaurant and forest settings a moody, controlled look that mirrors Michael’s slipping perception. Subtle transitions and visual shifts help signal when we are moving further from reality without ever making the boundaries obvious. Jimmy Jackson’s score adds to the unease, maintaining a low, psychological tension rather than relying on loud shocks.
Writer Kris Salvi’s script taps into a long tradition of stories about artists battling systems larger than themselves, but Michael Solace feels intimate rather than grand. Its short runtime works in its favor, keeping the experience tight and focused, like a vivid nightmare that lingers long after waking.

Chris Esper has appeared on Screen Critix many times before, and this film shows continued growth in confidence and style. Michael Solace is unsettling, thoughtful, and emotionally raw, a short that understands the horror of losing control over your own voice. For anyone who has ever created something personal and then been asked to hand it over, the film hits very close to home.
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