Writer’s block can be terrifying enough without a supernatural creature threatening to drain the life out of you unless you come up with something worth reading. That wonderfully simple idea sits at the centre of Tell Me A Story, an impressive seven-minute horror short from writer-director Joseph Garman that takes a familiar creative frustration and turns it into a literal fight for survival.
This is Garman’s directorial debut, but there is already a confidence to the filmmaking that immediately stands out. Rather than overcomplicating a concept perfectly suited to the short format, Garman establishes the situation, introduces his supernatural threat and gets everything moving remarkably quickly, resulting in a punchy little horror film that understands exactly how much time its idea requires.
The film opens with Annie (Hillary Takacs) at home as her husband Xavier (Alex Irwin) prepares to leave with their child. Before heading out, he mentions that his mother has bought Annie a present she discovered at a flea market. Annie now has the weekend to herself and intends to use the peace and quiet to finally work on the book she has been wanting to write.
Unfortunately, inspiration refuses to cooperate. Annie sits in front of her laptop staring at an empty document, but as daylight disappears and night arrives, the cursor remains exactly where it started. Not a single word has appeared. Anyone who has attempted to write something while their brain stubbornly refuses to provide that opening sentence will recognise the frustration immediately.
Eventually, Annie opens a bottle of red wine and turns her attention towards her mother-in-law’s present. Sitting on the dining table with a bow wrapped around it is an old mechanical typewriter. Perhaps abandoning the laptop and going old school will provide the creative spark she needs, so Annie sits down and prepares to write.
She doesn’t get very far before things become considerably stranger.
The typewriter suddenly moves of its own accord, followed by the stool beneath Annie shifting and pushing her closer to the table. At this point, most sensible people would probably forget about writing the novel, throw the typewriter through the nearest window and spend the rest of the weekend somewhere considerably less haunted. Annie isn’t given much opportunity to consider that option because the keys begin moving by themselves and four words appear on the page: “Tell Me A Story.”
It is a wonderfully straightforward horror premise because Garman doesn’t waste precious minutes explaining rules or mythology. We understand almost immediately that this isn’t simply a possessed typewriter looking for company. Something expects Annie to produce a story, and failing to satisfy it could have considerably worse consequences than missing a self-imposed writing deadline.
Tell Me A Story Turns Writer’s Block Into a Nightmare
The film becomes considerably more sinister once Annie realises there is something else in the room. Strange noises draw her attention while we can see a shadowy creature approaching from behind. Daniel Click plays the entity, and Garman is careful about how much of it he allows us to see, frequently keeping it in shadow, deliberately out of focus or partially obscured behind Annie.
That restraint works beautifully because we never get the opportunity to become overly familiar with the creature. There is enough visible to appreciate the design and makeup work, but Garman understands that something lurking just outside our visual comfort zone can be more effective than dragging the monster into bright light and showing us every detail.
The typewriter then produces another threatening message, asking whether Annie has no story to tell. The creature places its hands upon her shoulders and Annie’s appearance suddenly changes, her face becoming grey and aged for several seconds as though whatever is behind her is physically draining the life from her body. The makeup work sells the moment particularly well and immediately establishes what could happen if Annie fails to give this thing what it wants.
Annie quickly types that she does have a story, causing the creature to retreat slightly. When she stops, however, it begins moving towards her again. The rules are simple enough: keep writing or face whatever the creature intends to do to you. Suddenly writer’s block isn’t an inconvenience anymore, and Annie’s fingers begin racing across the keys as words fill the paper.
There is a streak of dark humour running through the idea that works particularly well. If this is the sort of motivation required to finally overcome writer’s block, there are probably plenty of frustrated novelists who could make use of one of these typewriters. Give some of us a demon standing behind the chair and that book we’ve been promising ourselves we’ll write for the last twenty years might finally get finished.
Garman never allows that humour to overwhelm the horror. The supernatural threat is still treated seriously, but there is something inherently amusing about transforming the familiar struggle to write into a literal life-or-death situation. It gives Tell Me A Story a little more personality than simply having Annie trapped in a room with another generic monster.
Eventually, Annie’s story reaches its conclusion and the creature leaves. There isn’t an unnecessarily elaborate explanation of what the typewriter is, where the entity came from or precisely why it requires stories. Garman trusts the central concept and leaves enough unanswered for the audience to fill in themselves.
Although the listed running time is 7:03, the actual story occupies roughly five and a half minutes once the end credits are removed. That gives Garman remarkably little time to establish Annie, introduce the typewriter, reveal the creature, explain the supernatural rules and reach a conclusion, yet the short never feels like a collection of disconnected moments rushing towards the finish.
A major reason for that is the quality of the filmmaking. Tell Me A Story looks excellent. Cinematographer Sam Stephenson makes particularly good use of the available space, alternating wider compositions with extreme close-ups while incorporating some effective camera movement. The visual presentation gives the short a much more accomplished identity than simply pointing a camera at Annie and waiting for supernatural things to happen around her.
The lighting is another standout. Annie remains attractively illuminated while practical sources within the rooms contribute to the atmosphere and create depth within the frame. That’s particularly important for a film built around something lurking behind its protagonist because Garman and Stephenson can use those darker areas to conceal the creature without making the images themselves impossible to see.
Production designer Lauren Brooks also helps create an environment that feels convincing without drawing unnecessary attention away from Annie and the typewriter. The film is predominantly contained within a small domestic setting, but thoughtful framing and lighting prevent that restriction from becoming visually repetitive.
The creature effects are equally impressive. Samantha Reisner is credited as makeup artist, while Alan Tuskes handled the special makeup effects. Brandon Dohner and Brian Recktenwald are credited for visual effects, and the different departments combine particularly effectively during Annie’s brief transformation after the creature touches her.
Hillary Takacs deserves considerable credit because there is very little time available to develop Annie before everything starts going wrong. Her frustration in front of the laptop establishes the character quickly, while her reactions to the moving typewriter and approaching creature sell the increasingly bizarre nightmare without pushing the performance too far into exaggeration.
Daniel Click also benefits from the decision not to overexpose the creature. His physical presence behind Annie becomes part of the composition of several shots rather than simply providing a monster for her to react against. The closer it gets, the greater the pressure on Annie to keep those keys moving.
Editors Amanda Nalette and Josh Ries keep everything progressing at exactly the pace this premise requires. There is no unnecessary backstory, lengthy explanation of the flea-market purchase or attempt to construct an elaborate mythology around the typewriter. Xavier mentioning where his mother found it is enough information for the audience to understand how this strange object entered Annie’s home.
Caleb Cameron’s music complements a production that feels remarkably complete considering how quickly it is over. Nothing about Tell Me A Story suggests Garman is stretching a five-minute idea simply to reach a particular running time. He has a concept capable of sustaining a few minutes of escalating horror, executes it efficiently and knows when to finish.
Perhaps the most exciting element is that this is Garman’s directorial debut. There is an assured quality here that isn’t always present in a filmmaker’s first short, particularly in the framing, lighting, camera movement and decision not to show too much of the creature. Horror filmmakers can sometimes become so proud of their monster that they reveal it from every possible angle, but Garman understands that glimpsing something threatening in the darkness can be considerably more effective.
There are certainly bigger questions that could be explored around the typewriter and whatever inhabits it, but doing so might actually spoil the simplicity that makes the film work. We don’t need an elaborate history of previous owners or an explanation of precisely what happens to writers who fail. Annie’s rapidly ageing face tells us everything necessary about the consequences.
Tell Me A Story is an excellent little horror short built around one strong idea and executed with considerable technical confidence. It’s beautifully photographed, atmospherically lit, efficiently edited and features a creature that Garman wisely knows not to overuse. Most importantly, it understands the value of brevity and leaves us wanting more rather than wondering when it will finish.
Joseph Garman looks to have a natural eye for filmmaking, and this debut provides plenty of reason to be interested in whatever he decides to make next. If he continues producing work at this level while expanding his ambitions, there could be a very promising filmmaking career ahead. Tell Me A Story is precisely the kind of compact, inventive and well-made horror short that should find an appreciative audience on the horror festival circuit.
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