Little Doors

It is, according to members of the counselling professions, an increasing issue in our own societies: how do people find motivation when the world seems to be ending? That process seems to be a little more advanced in Anthony Oberbeck’s film, which screened as part of Fantastic Fest 2026. Furthermore, as the population thins and more and more places are abandoned, not just social structures but the logic that structures the world as we understand it is breaking down too. “Strange things are happening,” people remind each other, in tones which imply that it’s useless to speculate.

We meet the couple as their relationship is just beginning. She (Megan Koester) has a problem with one of the rooms in the house where she’s squatting, so he (Oberbeck), a locksmith, comes to fix it. Afterwards, standing outside amongst the debris in her garden, she smokes a cigarette, so he does too, but he’s bad at it.

“Do you have a job?” he asks.

“The world’s ending. What’s the point?”

Neither has any game, so they agree to skip the flirtation and just get on with having a relationship. It’s quiet and simple and low effort to begin with. They wear identical dark blue clothes and often sit together in silence in the largely empty rooms (she doesn’t like stuff). He likes to make people laugh, but that’s not really her forte. Still, it seems to be going well until, one day, she discovers a small wooden door in her abdomen. A doctor, whom she consults reluctantly, asks her about her diet, sleep, exercise and mood, so she goes to talk to a priest. “There’s a small door in the side of your body,” he says, and one can almost hear the unspoken follow-up “but that’s not important just now.”

If you are the sort of person who gets upset when phenomena like this appear in films with no attempt at a rational explanation, this film is not for you. Answers are as thin on the ground as they are beside the point. Other viewers will struggle with it because it takes a while to go anywhere. Given the man’s profession, however, it’s clear that it’s going to. The urge to open the door is as understandable as the terror of what might happen if that’s actually done. Suffice to say that when the film does reach that point, it shifts gears and goes off in a completely unexpected direction.

Out in a field, the couple share a picnic as buildings explode in the distance. Why do we insist that things last forever in order to accord them value? Flattened emotions give way to something else when people learn how to open up. Even when time is short, the film suggests, life is there to be lived.

Reviewed on: 06 Oct 2026