By: Kelly Kearney
Directed by Blake Jarvis, the short film In Jeff We Trust closes out Tribeca 2025’s “Midnight Mash-up” series—a category built for horror-comedy hybrids and this one earns its place with laughs and bloody-flair. Equal parts disturbing and absurd, the short follows two mentally ill, privileged Millenials who impulsively join The Cult of Jeff—a deranged self-help collective led by a soft-spoken, gray-haired figure with the gentle cadence of a therapist and the authority of a dictator. Think Heaven’s Gate minus the fashion backwards tracksuits and the comet ride to earth’s exit and beyond to the unknown. Jeff’s power over his disciples is evident even in their names. He doesn’t just rename his followers with celestial absurdities like Ribs Quasar and Pelvis Nebula—he strips away their autonomy. He replaces uncertainty with obedience and tests their loyalty in increasingly sinister ways. From renamed identities to ritualistic devotion, The Cult of Jeff has all the familiar trappings of an off-grid commune gone very wrong.
Indecision is the Voice of Madness
As The Cult of Jeff plans for the big “Night of Ascension,” the girls’ dedication to the cause begins to unravel. Their blind faith gives way to growing doubt and soon they’re talking themselves into a corner—literally. What unfolds is a panic-fueled, deliriously funny spiral of a conversation where belief, fear and rebellion tangle in a torrent of self-delusion. Indecision becomes the voice of madness, as these two live in a constant state of self-guessing while also seeking out trendy spiritual aesthetics to fix their mental health struggles. The more they question Jeff, the more unhinged and convoluted their justifications become. It’s hardly surprising they first crossed paths on the floor of a psychiatric hospital—two lost souls who mistook shared trauma for clarity; convincing themselves that salvation could be found in the hands of a cult leader promising purpose. Sadly, that “purpose” quickly turns sinister and by the time phrases like sacrifice and moon zenith enter the conversation, these two fragile women start to look like the sanest ones in the room. Given that the devoted “Jeffist” Lungs Mercury spends the entire runtime naked, blood-soaked and unleashing maximum pick-me energy in a desperate bid for Jeff’s attention, the two anxious newcomers from privileged backgrounds—lost in their spiraling debate—clearly don’t belong. For them, becoming a Jeffist was more about an easy Instagrammable fix than any sort of therapy that could offer relief.
A Cult of Laughs and Screams
This short doesn’t just satirize cult dynamics—it weaponizes them with comedy. The writing, by co-stars Sydney Heller and Olivia DeLaurentis, is sharp, funny, and uncomfortable in equal measure. Their performances are manic but rooted, as if the characters are clinging to the edge of sanity and trying to talk their way back to safety. Their chemistry is unforced, and it sells the story’s emotional stakes under its bizarre comic surface.
Art Roberts’ portrayal of Jeff is appropriately enigmatic—chilling not in volume or violence, but in his polite, serene confidence that starts to unravel when his sheep start to stray from the flock. Natalie Palamides, as fellow follower Lungs Mercury, brings a feral absurdity to her brief appearance—thirsting (quite literally) for Jeff’s bodily fluids in one of the film’s most jaw-droppingly hilarious lines.
Directing Chaos and Comedy
The direction by Jarvis keeps a tight rein on the chaos, allowing the tension to simmer while giving space for surreal comedic beats to land. The cult’s logic may be nonsensical, but the film’s own internal logic is airtight. From the editing to the production design, every element supports the feeling of being trapped in a deranged, hippy commune that survives on naivety and blood.
What truly elevates In Jeff We Trust is its message: a cautionary tale about the seductive power of certainty, especially for those emotionally adrift. These aren’t hardened fanatics—they’re lonely girls who met in a psychiatric hospital and stumbled into something bigger than they could comprehend. Their struggle to reclaim agency isn’t just darkly funny—it’s self-empowering and at times, a bit of an eye-roll. When the two women finally take control of their lives, it’s an action-packed cathartic kill-fest that will leave you cheering the girl’s on.
Join Jeff for Laugh-Out-Loud Horror
In Jeff We Trust plays like a nightmarish TED Talk draped in cult robes and soaked in existential dread, both equal parts absurd comedy and psychological horror. Beneath its surreal surface and white-robe weirdness lies a sharp, darkly funny satire with real emotional weight. It skewers the desperate search for meaning, the seductive power of groupthink, and the fragile line between self-discovery and self-delusion.
Bitingly bizarre and unapologetically offbeat, it’s a ten-minute mental spiral that manages to be a bloody good time. If you’ve ever doubted your life choices, questioned your identity or just wanted to disappear into something—anything—that promised certainty, this short understands you and it might just make you laugh while it gently sets your sanity on fire. It’s a mini-masterpiece of millennial madness that asks you to believe in something, just maybe not Jeff.