Canary

As a young kid who grew up in two different countries in different parts of the world, I learned at an early age that bullies have a lot in common regardless of where they are from. One such trait is that they are almost always oblivious to the trauma they leave with their victims. I’ve carried this idea with me since then and explored it in my directorial debut, Stolen, a fictional story about a Japanese family that becomes the target of victim shaming after their youngest member is kidnapped by North Korea. The bullies of this story are the invisible enemies behind the keyboards whose words unknowingly devastate the family members. When I learned this rather implicit representation of bullying particularly resonated with the audiences, I knew my next step was to look back at my school years and tackle one of the most explicit and ubiquitous forms of abuse. And that I want to construct an immersive, terrifying world that in and of itself can represent the horror of bullying. This is why Canary, an Asian American-led horror short film, takes place in a monster-infested post-apocalyptic forest.

Our lead character Alan is that one kid in high school who no one ever bothered to save from the bullies. Alan is an isolated and apathetic character plagued with distorted thoughts that stem from a history of physical and mental abuse. The story begins with Alan hiding from the massive, spider-like monster along with three bullies who use Alan as a human punching bag in an attempt to maintain their sense of superiority. The cabin-in-the-woods in which they are trapped is as claustrophobic and hopeless as what schools are to the victims of school bullying. With nowhere to escape and no place to feel safe for Alan, the audiences will wonder: is it possible that the mental breakdown inside is a worse enemy than the death outside?