By: Kelly Kearney
Playing God is a French-Italian stop-motion claymation short film showing at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival in the horror comedy category, “Midnight Mash-up.” The short reimagines the creation story as a grotesque parable for modern times—where failure, brutality and abandonment precede the great experiment called life.
Built in His Image
In a dark and grimy workshop littered with malformed remnants of previous creations, a strange clay sculpture begins to twitch to life. Surrounded by twisted castoffs of earlier experiments – it’s clear that something ancient and unsettling is happening in this room. The film, written and directed by Matteo Burani with co-writer Gianmarco Valentino, unfolds like a body-horror creation myth – a Kafka-esque metamorphosis for the existentially disillusioned.
What begins as abstract horror soon becomes disturbingly literal, as a human figure enters the room and immediately gets to work with disturbing precision. Ripping, molding and pressing his hands into raw clay, we realize that this is no loving sculptor; this is a god of habit, crafting life not out of love, but out of obsession to reach perfection. His subject—number 815—is just one of many logged into his diary, which is filled with sketches, failed attempts and discarded notes from his project. Around him the room is littered with the hunched and half-melted forms of abandoned creations, each one a casualty of his perfectionism.
As 815 begins to take shape, he is a fragile figure trembling on the edge of sentience. For a moment the creator pauses, eyes clouded with fatigue or something darker– a flicker of recognition or maybe pride, but probably not guilt as his creation wordlessly begs for his mercy. There is no dialogue in this short, as the entire story is told through movement, texture, sound and atmosphere. Emotions are heightened through the painful tears of the manipulated and the terrifying fear of God’s abandoned imperfections.
Bringing Life to Life
Alongside Burnai, animator Arianna Gheller breathes life into these tortured figures, each one rendered with heartbreaking detail. Their twisted forms and expressive faces bear silent witness to a creation process steeped in violence and neglect. Supporting the visuals, the sound fills the silence of the film with dread—manifesting the heavy, God-like footsteps that echo across the darkened room with oppressive intent. While the wet snap of manipulated clay is jarring, it’s the frightened squeaks of the malformed clay creatures that pierce straight through the viewer’s heart.
Composer Pier Danio Forni contributes a haunting score, blending celestial tones that evoke the divine before subtly descending into dissonant, nightmarish soundscapes. This sonic unraveling mirrors the film’s narrative arc and underscores its central question: If we are made in the image of a creator who discards, tortures and remakes us at will, what agency do we truly possess? Is free will merely a lie we’re told to keep us compliant and malleable in the hands of those who control the masses?
A Deeply Emotional Watch for a Horror Short
In just nine minutes, Playing God delivers a powerful statement on bodily autonomy, creator cruelty and the urgent need for liberation from oppressive systems — whether divine or manmade. It is a film about enslavement — not just of the body, but of purpose. A tale where clay becomes flesh, and flesh becomes a battleground for freedom.
If you’re drawn to claymation that doesn’t shy away from the grotesque, the philosophical or the deeply emotional, Playing God is a short you shouldn’t miss. This film is a visceral meditation on what it means to be created — and to create. It invites viewers to confront the discomfort of power and its path to suffering, all while questioning the illusion of free will. The visuals are both haunting and beautiful, matched by sound and music design that leave a lingering chill.
For those who appreciate animation that pushes artistic boundaries and explores the existential with raw, unfiltered emotion, Playing God offers a memorable, thought-provoking experience. It’s the kind of short that stays with you — etched in clay, carved into memory.