At once intimate and mythic, this screenplay masterfully intertwines the grief of a fractured family with the shadowy presence of gods, demons, and the lingering scars of trauma. The story follows Talisa, a young girl caught between loss, memory, and the desperate hope that her sister is still alive. When custody battles and social services threaten to dictate her fate, Talisa’s world collides with Elysian Falls — a seemingly idyllic town that hides ancient, dangerous forces beneath its polished exterior.
The script’s greatest strength lies in its tonal balance. On one side, it captures the raw human drama of foster care, guardianship, and the fragile resilience of a child searching for truth. On the other, it expands into a supernatural allegory, weaving Thanatos, Kalantaka, and Melantheia into the fabric of contemporary life. These figures, rendered not as distant mythic archetypes but as dangerously intimate presences, embody grief, temptation, and the struggle for control.
Structurally, the work builds tension with precision. The courtroom scenes provide a grounded realism, layered with themes of faith, power, and systemic struggle, while the supernatural undercurrents suggest a wider, more terrifying fate awaiting the characters. By Act V, the emotional threads converge: Talisa’s fragile hope collides with the revelation of Hannah’s death, Rebecca’s protective pragmatism, and Thanatos’ unsettling presence in the café. The moment where Talisa glimpses his rotting form is a chilling payoff, signaling that personal trauma and cosmic dread are inextricably linked.
Thematically, the screenplay grapples with the weight of memory, the ambiguity of truth, and the inevitability of change. Talisa’s insistence on Hannah’s survival functions both as a child’s coping mechanism and as a metaphor for humanity’s refusal to let go of the past. The adults around her — Rebecca, Samantha, Jessica — embody conflicting roles of protector, manipulator, and bureaucrat, mirroring how institutions can both shelter and betray.
Visually and atmospherically, the script promises striking cinematic potential. The juxtaposition of mundane spaces — a group home office, a courtroom, a small-town café — with the intrusion of mythic horror sets the stage for an unsettling yet emotionally resonant viewing experience. Its small-town Americana aesthetic, punctured by moments of supernatural revelation, evokes both gothic dread and modern drama.
This screenplay stands out as an ambitious hybrid: part social realist drama, part supernatural thriller, and part allegorical meditation on loss. It is a story where the mundane and the mythic collide, where the struggles of a young girl reverberate against forces far older and darker than she can comprehend. For a festival audience, it offers not only suspense and atmosphere but also a poignant reflection on grief, survival, and the human need to find hope in even the darkest of places.
The Back Garden is a taut, beautifully acted psychological thriller that lingers long after the credits roll. Director Pat Bradley crafts an intimate and unsettling atmosphere in a deceptively tranquil suburban garden, turning it into the perfect stage for an emotional storm.
Melanie Gretchen delivers a raw and nuanced performance as Lorenz, a woman trying to move on from a painful past, only to find her peace shattered by old wounds that refuse to stay buried. Her portrayal is magnetic — subtle when it needs to be, and explosive when the character’s pain breaks through. The dynamic between Gretchen, Ryan Wesen, and Bryan Harlow crackles with tension, making every glance and silence feel significant.
The cinematography makes excellent use of the confined setting, heightening the sense of claustrophobia as the past literally intrudes on the present. The sound design and score add to the unease, drawing the audience into Lorenz’s fragile psyche.
What makes The Back Garden so compelling is how it manages to explore deep themes — trauma, forgiveness, and self-sabotage — without ever feeling preachy. It’s a story that’s as much about what’s unsaid as what’s spoken, and that restraint makes its emotional punches land even harder.
This is an impressive short film that proves you don’t need a huge budget or sprawling locations to tell a powerful story. With its layered writing, strong performances, and eerie beauty, The Back Garden establishes Pat Bradley and Melanie Gretchen as talents to watch.
Highly recommended for fans of psychological dramas and intimate character studies.