There’s a peculiar thrill to ‘The Listener’, a 15-minute short that begins in observational quiet and ends in a blur of menace. Shane R. Preston crafts something deceptively simple and increasingly unhinged – a simple commute turned psychological detour – rooted in the mundane but slowly bleeding into the bizarre.

Shot initially in black and white by cinematographer Daniel Zlobin, the opening frames feel like surveillance: a man waiting for a bus, earphones on, sealed off from the world. He is “The Listener” (Daniel-Paul Sampson), though he’d rather not be. Then comes “The Talker” (Daniel Christian Jones), a relentless stranger who wants the time but demands attention. The film’s early minutes are awkward, even comically relatable – every commuter’s social nightmare – but as the bus fails to arrive and the two men walk into the cold streets of Toronto, the tone bends and color seeps in. So does something darker.

Jones is magnetic and maddening as The Talker – an eccentric with a rebel streak and a mouth full of half-baked conspiracies. There’s a twitchy brilliance to his performance: you’re never sure whether to laugh or lock your doors. As his rants grow stranger, the film subtly morphs from a social slice-of-life into a psychological thriller. Handheld camerawork adds urgency, the dialogue turns from humorous to haunting, and what once felt quirky now feels like a trap.

Preston’s script is tight, the pacing and growing unease if flawless. What could’ve been a one-note premise expands into something thrillingly unpredictable. By the time the twist lands, The Listener has dug under your skin.

It’s a film that screams under the surface – about the people we ignore, the ones who won’t go away, and what happens when a simple “what time is it?” spirals into something far more sinister. Highly recommended.