A group of strangers are invited to a grand, secluded castle for what appears to be a weekend of public appearances. They each expect to speak, network, or meet fans. Instead, they discover they have been summoned to face the consequences of deeply buried scandals. As secrets are exposed, their reputations, freedoms, and even their lives are put at stake in The Art of Telling Lies, a stylish and ambitious independent thriller directed by Pascal Payant.
Drawing inspiration from the stage-bound tension of An Inspector Calls, the psychological manipulation of Agatha Christie mysteries, and the surreal visual flair of Italian thrillers, Payant delivers a tightly wound and visually striking chamber piece. Four seemingly unconnected guests arrive at the castle: Ester (Syama Rayner), a powerful political aide entangled in an illicit affair; Malin (Sara Hagno), a high-profile news anchor grieving the mysterious death of her daughter; Isaac (Oris Erhuero), a respected doctor accused of helping terminally ill patients end their lives; and Noah (Declan O’Connor), a social media star facing allegations of underage misconduct.
Once inside, they are confronted by a man who calmly presents each of them with damning video or audio evidence. Without much explanation, he then pulls out a gun and takes his own life in front of them. Trapped inside the castle with no passports, no way out, and no clear understanding of who brought them together, the guests begin to unravel. Strange quotes begin appearing in their rooms. Their pasts echo through the castle’s speakers. The line between accuser and victim becomes harder to define.
The performances are strong across the board. Syama Rayner brings poise and complexity to Ester, making her both sympathetic and frustrating in equal measure. Sara Hagno’s Malin is one of the standouts, managing to convey both public confidence and private torment. Oris Erhuero gives Isaac a sense of emotional gravity, while Declan O’Connor’s portrayal of Noah walks a fine line between charm and menace. Together, the ensemble creates a believable mix of egos, secrets, and regrets.
What really makes The Art of Telling Lies work is its visual and tonal control. Shot largely within the confines of the castle, the film makes excellent use of its setting. Deep red walls and ornate furniture lend the interiors a claustrophobic elegance, calling to mind the lurid atmosphere of Suspiria. The cinematography, also handled by Payant, is composed with intention. Even the occasional moment where a shot falls out of focus seems purposeful, adding to the disorientation and emotional instability of the characters.
Payant’s script keeps the pace deliberate but never dull. With minimal action and few locations, the film relies on dialogue, tension, and character development to sustain interest. The stakes feel high not just because of the mystery, but because we begin to understand what each character stands to lose. These are people on the verge of public ruin, and their desperation is palpable. The addition of a paralysed girl in a wheelchair, able to respond only through blinking, adds another layer of unease. Her presence serves as a silent witness and potential key to the larger mystery.
The score, composed by Payant, is well balanced and atmospheric. It supports the mood without overwhelming the drama. Credit is also due to Payant, whose editing work maintains rhythm and momentum, especially during scenes where nothing overtly dramatic is happening. Dialogue is clear, cleanly recorded, and never buried under music. For an independent production, the sound and post-production quality is impressive.
Despite budget limitations, The Art of Telling Lies manages to feel like a complete, confident work. It knows its limits and uses them creatively. Confining the story mostly to a single location is a smart decision that helps the narrative stay focused. The film’s greatest strength lies in its restraint. There is no need for grand spectacle when the real fireworks come from tension, performance, and moral ambiguity.
Payant has created a compelling mystery that explores guilt, power, and personal responsibility in a world obsessed with reputation. In the crowded world of independent cinema, The Art of Telling Lies stands out for its visual style, sharp writing, and assured direction. Pascal Payant is clearly a filmmaker to watch, and this film is a fine example of what can be accomplished with creativity, discipline, and vision. If you would like to watch the film yourself, it will be streaming on Amazon Prime, Tubi SF anytime in Sweden , youtube movie and pascalpayant.com
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