Lamb

By: Kelly Kearney

From Irish-director Sinéad O’Loughlin comes a harrowing fifteen minute interaction between a young mother and an unhinged intruder with eyes for her infant daughter. Taking its cues from home-invasion and slasher horror films, Lamb delivers an edge-of-your-seat ending that will leave you breathless and running to lock your doors. 

After airing out the house from burnt toast, young mother Sarah (Aiofe Duffin) is shocked to find an intruder standing inches away from her happy baby, Lucy, after slipping in while her back was turned. When Sarah asks what this awkward man is doing in her off-the-Irish country road cottage the disheveled man, who we learn is named Paul (Éanna Hardwicke), smiles with an intensity that leads you to believe he is anything but friendly. “Toast,” he says, and It is obvious by the way Paul is acting that this isn’t a pop-in for breakfast because of the manner in which he doesn’t say anything, says everything – loud and clear. His quiet focus on baby Lucy is weighted with something much darker than a lost traveler or a thief looking for money and it isn’t long before his forced smiles turn to grimaces; unleashing a barely restrained rage that has Sarah questioning if rape is his motivation for holding her and her daughter hostage. It’s not, or so he claims, while staring adoringly at her child. And as their kitchen table conversation starts to unravel, it is immediately clear that Paul is struggling from some sort of mental illness that has manifested into stalking and delusions. Rape might not be on his agenda but violence certainly is and in his scattered mind he uses Lucy and her mother as stand-ins for his own unfulfilling experiences with parenting that seem to be the basis for his bubbling anger. 

Sinking into its unsuspecting horror–slow, like quicksand; the realization of what Paul’s plans are without blatantly pointing out the clues are where the genius of this piece lives and breathes. Director O’Loughlin does her best not to hand hold the viewer – walking them through the climax and towards the resolution and, instead, leaves that up to the imagination; which is often far more terrifying than anything a short film could deliver. Sarah’s fear and confusion as well as watching her slowly come to grips with what’s happening is shared with the viewers right up until the vague and heartstopping final moments. O’Loughlin crafts a feeling of  dread and trepidation; having no idea where this encounter is heading until Paul grabs Lucy and mutters out the most terrifying line of the short film, “To move a ewe you have to take the lamb.”

O’Loughlin does a fantastic job building the tension right from the start by pulling in the focus with close-up shots of a happy Sarah going about her morning routine with her chubby-cheeked and blissfully unaware Lucy while Paul slides into the background in a blur. It’s a nod to slasher films and stalker horrors alike and O’Loughlin does it effectively. Filming the entire short in the kitchen adds to the claustrophobic feeling of Sarah and Lucy being trapped between a madman and the only door outside offering the two an escape. The world beyond the door is bright and breezy, but inside things are dark and sinister, like the shadow that crept across Sarah’s threshold and the camera work effectively highlights that divide. There is no need for blood or violence to tell this horrific tale because it’s not what’s seen or said that shakes you to your core but the idea of what could happen which leaves you silently hoping Sarah and Lucy make it out alive.

In one of the best scenes of the short, Paul reaches across the table and scoops up little Lucy, holding her tightly (almost too tightly) as he tries and fails to calm the wailing child down. His aggravation grows but he holds his smile like he’s forced it to the surface, birthing it from the depths of his rage. Masterfully portrayed by Hardwicke, Paul doesn’t have to announce his plans as they are expressed in every inch of his face. Likewise, Duffin manages to deliver as the subdued and frightened Sarah, who is a relatable heroine to anyone who’s been cornered by the unwanted advances of a stranger. Her negotiations with what she assumes is his humanity felt desperate without giving in to her base fears. The performances were beautifully nuanced and tucked into this unsettling plot, leading up to an end that left this viewer both shocked and panicked by what I could only assume was a gruesome finale.