Untitled: Etude In G Minor, Op 1

With the utmost subtlety, Hannah Cowlin allows herself to be overcome by terror. It is a memorable performance because of its understatement.

The film is so simple, it's genius. The camera remains close on Hannah's face as she walks from her flat down a narrow street. Writer/director Sandro Jandieri does not allow himself the luxury of a tracking shot, or anything else for that matter. The eye of the lens stays with the girl as she becomes aware of another behind her, a presence.

She does not look round, as a man dips into view - young, bearded, baseball capped. The intensity of his movements are threatening. He appears closer than he should. She senses him in this isolated lane and fears him, or rather the idea of him, what he might do/will do/can do. She knows that she must not run and yet, desperate as she is, cannot contrive an escape plan. The camera records the shadows of her thoughts. And then she acts. And then the movie is over. It only takes three minutes, but every one is lived.

Jandieri uses a Shostakovich score to great effect and manages to convey a feeling of claustrophobia and tension that uses the imagination of the audience to best advantage.

Seeds of horror are planted in the mind, where they grow, obliterating the light. Rationality becomes lost in the dark.