Universe 25

If you saw 2024’s hit indie thriller Dead Mail, which screened alongside this film as part of the Fantaspoa 2025 line-up, then you’ll already be familiar with the process whereby letters and parcels without sufficient address information to get to their intended destinations are handled by postal services. Set in England rather than the US, this film uses the same jumping-off point but presents a different mystery, as an inexperienced postie finds himself alone in a sorting office, curious about the contents of a large envelope labelled simply ‘Universe 25’, and quickly becomes fascinated by the account he finds within.

“Who is my master, and how have I come to be?” it begins. And soon “I am no longer human.”

Is it a true account? It would appear that the author took it seriously, to have written so much, but whether we are consuming the ramblings of a schizophrenic man or, as he claims to be, an advanced post-human intelligence is left as an exercise for the viewer. We don’t know whether or not we are supposed to believe it when a slimy, naked man arrives clinging to the side of a bridge over the A4 at midnight, as if he has manifested out of the void. “I am what you call an angel,” he says, though he will later contradict that. He tells us that his name is Mott, though he goes by Tom, and we follow him to a phone box where a heavily distorted voice gives him his mission. The world will end in a few days, it explains. Before that, he must find a saint and a sacrificial lamb, and make a scroll.

Parts of the film bear a strong resemblance to Wim Wenders’ Wings Of Desire, as Mott discovers goth music and falls in love with a distinctly mortal woman for whom he is willing to give up the existence he has known. “I’m no angel. I’m just a man. Just a normal, ordinary man,” he will claim then. But the floor is covered in feathers. There are intense moments of tenderness between these two characters. The woman, trapped by grief, is looking for something to believe in. To her, it might not matter what is or isn’t true.

As in Wenders’ film, the style is as important as the substance. There’s a similar tone, but director Richard Melkonian’s visual ideas are his own. He also brings Mott into sharp conflict with the present day world as, on more than one occasion, he is assaulted by men who take offence at his unusual, careless or religiously inspired appearance, at the way he moves through space. Is this a world which still has use for spiritual endeavour? Do most people, in fact, look upon it and mental illness as much the same thing?

The cinematography is deliberately downbeat. The narrative meanders as its hero does. It’s all put into perspective by the frame, whose own twist might leave you with further questions. Though it doesn’t ultimately come across as meaningful to the degree that its creator might have hoped, it’s a brave piece of work, gently tempered by humour. It makes its mark.

Reviewed on: 19 Apr 2025