Hunter Brockmann‘s short film ‘A Month. A Day. A Year.’ hits you in the gut with its stark, unflinching portrayal of a man grappling with autism and depression. Serge, played by Brockmann himself, isn’t your typical protagonist. He’s the guy in the corner, the observer rather than the participant. Through a series of raw, self-shot video logs and haunting home-video footage, we’re dragged – willingly – into Serge’s isolated world.
The film feels more like a confessional than a narrative, more raw truth than crafted fiction. It’s as if we’ve stumbled upon a real sufferer’s video diary. Brockmann doesn’t shy away from Serge’s darkest moments – his confusion, his anxiety, his desperate search for meaning. It’s uncomfortable, almost voyeuristic, but that’s what makes it so gripping. You’re not just watching; you’re experiencing his isolation, his sadness, his bleak existence.
The low-budget aesthetic isn’t a flaw; it’s a feature. It strips away any cinematic polish, leaving us with something that feels achingly authentic. And then there’s the commentary – classic insights on autism woven throughout, adding layers of depth and a haunting echo of societal misunderstanding.
This experimental film is a character study that doesn’t just study – it exposes, it educates, it makes you feel. Brockmann has crafted something meaningful and insightful. It’s an experience, and one that’s impossible to forget after viewing.
