My Lonely Heart Calls

"My Lonely Heart Calls" is, as the title implies, an exploration of loneliness, and the paranoia with which isolation can often breed. Tristan is reeling from the end of his longtime relationship with Joel, a figure who, critically, is not seen throughout the film. We follow Tristan as he copes alone, smoking cigarettes, doing laundry, and so on. His night of seclusion takes a frightening turn when his home is invaded by a vicious, shadowy intruder. The film, then, must have a clear thesis: breakups are difficult, but remaining mired in a loveless relationship is equally, ahem, suffocating. For Tristan to overcome his grief, he has to fight for his life as his sanctuary is desecrated.

With this project, I attempted to play with horror’s long-held concepts of masculinity and femininity. My film does not feature a prominent female character, and yet I feel it has deeply feminist values. "My Lonely Heart Calls" allows its protagonist to be not just vulnerable, but pathetic. It is through his traumatic experience of victimization that Tristan will be compelled to not only rise above the imminent threat, but also the more insidious threat of regressing to a state of complacency in a worn-out relationship.

I hope to market my film to an unsung niche of horror fans. The genre could generously be called ‘formulaic’; as a result, the perception is often that it may only be enjoyed as vapid popcorn entertainment, rather than intelligent and artful fare. In my experiences as a lifelong fan of horror, I have found comradery in the unlikeliest movie buffs. These filmgoers are not fixated on gore, but are rather keenly interested in how each film in the genre subverts expectations, toying with horror’s prescribed set of rules. These same viewers value social commentary and deliberate character-building as much as they value the delirious doses of blood and guts.

I was inspired to create "My Lonely Heart Calls" after a year of living in an old suburban house with close friends that would often take weekend trips to visit their families, leaving me as isolated as Tristan when we begin his story. It was on these occasions that I began to see not only my home, but the larger construct of a ‘home,’ as the perfect breeding ground for horror. Tristan’s panic upon meeting the killer is fight-or-flight: he can either rise above, or succumb to the elements that have put his guard down on this fateful night.

Your home is where you should feel safest to simply exist. How would you fare if this perception was abruptly, brutally destroyed?