The article was co-authored by Han Tien and Infero Hsieh. Originally published in FUNSCREEN. For details, see: https://funscreen.tfai.org.tw/article/37855
In the early 2000s, the Taiwanese film market was at a low point. Industry insiders widely recognized the need to produce more genre films to attract mainstream audiences, yet often struggled to do so effectively. Kevin KO, then a student at Fu Jen Catholic University’s Department of Communication, drew attention by uploading a 10-minute short horror film titled Ghost Print (鬼印，2004) – a project he created in his first year. After graduation, Kevin KO delivered his debut feature-length film, Invitation Only (絕命派對，2009), a rare Taiwanese torture film at the time. Later on, he explored various genres, such as the campus romantic comedy Dude’s Manual (脫單告急，2018) reminiscent of the Tianjin version of American Pie, and the sci-fi romance A Choo (打噴嚏，2020) adapted from the novel by Giddens Ko. In addition, he directed numerous music videos and commercials.
Now, his latest feature film, Incantation, revisits the horror theme. Its marketing boldly claims it to be the “most terrifying in the history of Taiwanese cinema." This wasn’t just a baseless claim, as since its release on March 18th, the film has garnered strong word of mouth and impressive box office results, setting it on course to be a new benchmark for Taiwanese horror films. Incantation incorporates themes of cults and folklore, drawing inspiration from the contagious Incantation imagery of The Ring (1998), and achieves a Found Footage / Mockumentary effect through the use of cameras, mobile phones, and other screens within its storyline. This combination of theme and form can be seen echoing in other recent Asian films, such as the Thai-Korean co-production The Medium (2021), set against the backdrop of northern Thai shamanism, or Shimizu Takashi’s Howling Village (2019) and Suicide Forest Village (2021).
In this issue of FUNSCREEN, we invited Director Kevin KO to discuss his film, which may leave audiences with lingering feelings and emotions, both unsettling and moving, long after the credits roll.
From Ghost Print to Incantation: A Focus and Evolution on Sub-genres of Horror Films
— Both Incantation and your university short film Ghost Print feature pronounced sensual genre elements, like the phenomenon of ‘bumping into walls by ghosts'(鬼打牆), the undistinguishable front and back of hair in horror scenes, and the handling of scary scenes inside and outside of cars. Has this always been the genre you wanted to explore?
Yes, Ghost Print was a project I emulated during university. I was a big fan of Japanese ghost films then, especially One Missed Call (2004) and The Ring. I also liked the Hong Kong film The Eye (2002). The biggest difference between Incantation and Ghost Print was considering what would scare the audience besides the overtly horrifying visuals. Eventually, I settled on the theme of cults.
The unease towards unfamiliar religions and the reverence for unknown deities is the primary sentiment Incantation aims to convey. The film was inspired by a real event in Kaohsiung in 2005. My immediate reaction upon hearing the news was: some people in Taiwan believe in very strange things. Just like we were told as kids that a certain relative believed in something peculiar and our elders would advise us to stay away. This religious reverence and fear of “it’s better not to approach" is hard to shake off and is something Taiwanese can deeply resonate with. “It’s better not to approach" can be metaphorically seen as “toxic," and if something is “toxic," it can “make you sick," or in other words, curse you.
So, the film employs an interactive approach, enticing the audience to engage with it, understand it, and unbeknownst to them, take something away – akin to something shareable, aligning with the curse theme in the movie. Because the prototype of fear is when you continuously tell yourself, “I better not know too much, better not get involved, and it’s best not to remember it," but when you inadvertently take something away anyway, the fear becomes real.
— The film adopts a mockumentary style. How did you decide on this stylistic approach?
I really enjoy found-footage movies, as they give a sense of “participating in someone else’s life." However, Incantation isn’t entirely a mockumentary. It’s more of a fusion between a mockumentary and a narrative film, fundamentally a commercial entertainment movie. For me, adhering to rules isn’t the most crucial aspect – being “engaging" is. While a pseudo-documentary must abide by certain “found footage" conventions, what I wanted was for audiences to appreciate it in this format but still experience the drama of a narrative film. Hence, I incorporated sound effects, music, cross-cutting, montages, and the like.
About 4 or 5 years ago, I wanted to make a short film about the dark web, akin to a “cursed letter" format – very DIY, raw, with no music, capturing all sounds with a mobile phone, the roughest kind of production. I hoped the viewers would think, “What on earth did I just watch?" or “Did I just partake in a ritual?" But many potential investors cautioned me, questioning how such a film would sell or who would dare to invest. They felt that viewers might associate any mishap after watching, like a stubbed toe, with the film’s curse. Regardless of the story, they might not recommend it.
Initially, hearing such feedback was frustrating. But it made me question myself — why was I showing off my skills? Did I genuinely enjoy such horror films when I was younger? The movies I used to queue up for were blockbusters like Jurassic Park, Transformers, and Harry Potter. It made no sense to distance myself from what I loved just because I had acquired filmmaking skills. So, I gradually shifted to blending elements from various “engaging" narrative films, aiming to create a movie that I, as a movie lover, would pay to watch.
Stylistic Execution: Refining the ‘rawness’ of a mockumentary
— Can you talk about the on-set camera, lighting setups, and other equipment?
We tried to use the camera that fits the narrative. For instance, if Ruo-nan has a camera in the film, we shot with that exact Sony point-and-shoot camera, without attaching any extra lens. Mobile phone scenes were genuinely shot with an iPhone. Remember the story from 6 years ago with a DV camera? (In the flashback) It was indeed shot with that DV. Surveillance footage was a bit different. We bought surveillance cameras, but they had issues, like not being able to monitor in real-time and overwriting footage after 10 minutes. We found that the iPhone’s front camera most resembled a surveillance camera, so we mounted it high and adjusted the frame rate to 12 frames per second (films are usually 24 fps). We considered using a dash cam, but due to similar issues with overwriting footage, we used a GoPro.
The lighting team was minimal, and we hardly used any professional lighting, just the kind you might see with a news crew. Sometimes we used on-site fluorescent lighting, just enough to see in darker scenes. For the underground scenes at night, the only light source was the flashlight held by the lead actress. Everyone else worked in pitch darkness. In one particularly dark scene, I asked an actor why he was moving so slowly. He replied that he couldn’t see, so I realized we needed to provide him with some light. At times, actors appeared to be looking in odd directions simply because it was too dark to see. In another instance, the camera and flashlight were attached together, blinding the actors, so we separated them.
— Regarding camera placement, did you strictly follow the rules of found footage?
Every scene had a specified camera placement on set. However, during editing, if we had to show every time a character picked up or set down a camera, it would become redundant and distract from the story, so we removed many of those moments. One particular scene in a temple was more rigid. Ruo-nan gets startled, and we only had two camera angles: one from the GoPro inside the stuffed bunny held by her daughter Dodo, and one from the camera in Ruo-nan’s hand. We needed a close-up of her frightened face, which required cropping and zooming in. After five takes, we realized the GoPro couldn’t capture her face well in low light, so we reshot using a camera with a larger aperture, sneaking in a zoom for the close-up.
— The temple scene, where something suddenly rushes towards the viewer, is a rare jump scare in the film. Most of the film is more suspenseful. Can you discuss the editing process?
The most critical aspect of making a horror film, be it shooting or editing, is always to put yourself in the audience’s shoes and ensure clarity. The editing and sound process took about 9 months. Through meticulous calculations, you can immerse the audience. It’s not about just adding a lot of music or sudden movements for horror.
For instance, in the temple scene, there were continuous light and dark changes. The first two occurrences were evenly timed, but the third was unexpected, startling the audience. The rhythm was the same with sound—initially consistent but then disrupted, jolting viewers. Most of the audience can predict that after Dodo screams and the door shuts, it will open again. How can we add another layer of surprise to that predictability? So, we substituted Dodo’s scream with another sound or made it seem muffled, as if from under a blanket. Also, we kept the characters’ breathing subtle to let the audience’s breathing fill that space. The ‘first-person’ perspective should come from the audience for total immersion.
— What was the approximate budget and how was it allocated? The Thangkas in the film left a deep impression. Can you discuss the art direction?
The budget was roughly 33 million NTD. Art and special effects took up the most, with sound effects and scoring slightly more than typical films. We didn’t have a lower budget just because we were making a mockumentary. Instead, we allocated it wisely. While the usual film budget can support one month of shooting, ours could stretch to two months, allowing us to capture the “rough" mockumentary feel with greater refinement.
The art director was Otto Chen, whom I met during an advertisement shoot. This was his first feature film, and he’s a very talented and passionate individual. He drew the symbols on the poster. I told him that we weren’t aiming for just beautiful props; the primary goal was to create a religion that Taiwanese people would find believable yet unfamiliar. The success of the art direction in this film relied on two main factors: thorough research on the cult and the settings of the cult’s compound and tunnels.
The Thangkas in the film were crafted by two accomplished artists who specialize in Buddhist imagery and heritage restoration. The composition of the Thangka had to maintain a specific ratio to resemble the divine images we’re familiar with. The Brahmi script on the scripture, resembling Chinese, was designed to make Taiwanese people feel a connection. When inventing a cult, it may need to feel ancient, but if it’s too ancient, it might feel too distant. So, we rooted it in Yunnan but localized it, aiming for a feeling that “my uncle might worship this." This includes the use of suona (a Chinese musical instrument) in the film.
The cult compound was located in the deep mountains of Hsinchu, and we were fortunate to capture a rare snowfall. It felt like the movie gods were smiling upon this film. During location scouting, we found a place with a structure very close to what we wanted. We retained its lived-in look, and the art team transformed it into a collective village-like setting within one large building. The design of the tunnel entrance was inspired by Taiwanese tomb designs. Inside the tunnel, which was a different setting, was the Jinshan air-raid shelter. The tree roots inside were original. The initial terrain went uphill, but we filmed it as downhill. In the most constricted, suffocating center, we placed our meticulously crafted Buddha figure. This setting was a real find. The original script and art direction weren’t like this; we adapted to the natural landscape.
Self-expectation of a good commercial film: Appealing & Moving
— From Ghost Print to Incantation, you’ve directed various types of films, numerous MVs, and advertisements. How do you handle different genres? And how has the experience of MVs and advertisements influenced you?
I’ve always considered myself a commercial film director and strive to be a good one.
For example, in a comedy film, it’s not about the editing but the acting. Humor is innate in actors and can’t be forced. Most people watch comedies because of the star cast. So, directing a comedy involves discussing with actors to bring out their funniest side. Horror films are different; they rely on camera shots and sound effects, requiring a calculated rhythm. A Choo is more like a cartoon, demanding a cartoonish mindset. Invitation Only aims for entertaining gore and torture – stimulating but not too sinister, emphasizing the gore. Incantation intends to terrify on psychological, cinematographic, or thematic levels.
In fact, I learned cinematography from directing MVs. MVs focus not on storytelling but on conveying a concept, like A-Mei’s FACES OF PARANOIA depicting obsessive love. While films emphasize story, the essence of MVs enhances visual conception in films. Diversifying my projects has been beneficial. Directing a mobile game ad, for example, taught me special effects and communicating with special effects artists. The “My Origin" ad, mimicking a news report about a dinosaur invasion shot on a phone, invested mainly in special effects and sound, serving as practice for Incantation.
— Referring back to the initial “epistolary" short film concept that evolved into Incantation. How did you integrate scare tactics with the emotional core of Incantation? The film intriguingly reverses emotions: the selfish become more “socialized", and the selfless become horrifying yet touching.
There’s an underlying concept, initially seeming contradictory, that aligns by the end, leaving viewers pondering their feelings about it. Maybe they harbor positive or negative emotions towards a character — but if negative, is it because their positive feelings got hurt? If they find a character selfish, where’s the line between selfishness and selflessness? If the film can make people “touch" this boundary, it transcends the fourth wall, resonating with human nature.
The film’s dedication “to the little angel" refers to my dog. We’ve been inseparable, especially during its last days when I was writing the script. I faced numerous dilemmas trying to prolong its life: hydration could lead to pulmonary edema, insufficient hydration to anemia; feeding became complicated due to reflexes. I questioned my choices, but I was sure we shared joy.
With its deteriorating vision and hearing, I devised a routine touch near its tail to assure it was me. But I constantly worried if it recognized me.
I even told it to leave if it wished, to avoid any discomfort. One day, while I was away, I received the call of its passing. I rushed back but didn’t get to say goodbye.
These unresolved emotions found their way into this film.
I later realized that even if it didn’t recognize me, it would’ve wished it was me, mirroring my own hopes. Such certainties inspired scenes in Incantation like the ER scene where the character recognizes a cherished stuffed toy — some truths don’t need evidence. If you cherish a life, perhaps you can see traces of yourself in this film.
Hence, my dedication to my “little angel" isn’t as dark as the initial short film concept. I hope Incantation moves its audience.
HAN TIEN 
The article was co-authored by Han Tien and Infero Hsieh. Originally published in FUNSCREEN. For details, see: https://funscreen.tfai.org.tw/article/37855
In the early 2000s, the Taiwanese film market was at a low point. Industry insiders widely recognized the need to produce more genre films to attract mainstream audiences, yet often struggled to do so effectively. Kevin KO, then a student at Fu Jen Catholic University’s Department of Communication, drew attention by uploading a 10-minute short horror film titled Ghost Print (鬼印，2004) – a project he created in his first year. After graduation, Kevin KO delivered his debut feature-length film, Invitation Only (絕命派對，2009), a rare Taiwanese torture film at the time. Later on, he explored various genres, such as the campus romantic comedy Dude’s Manual (脫單告急，2018) reminiscent of the Tianjin version of American Pie, and the sci-fi romance A Choo (打噴嚏，2020) adapted from the novel by Giddens Ko. In addition, he directed numerous music videos and commercials.
Now, his latest feature film, Incantation, revisits the horror theme. Its marketing boldly claims it to be the “most terrifying in the history of Taiwanese cinema." This wasn’t just a baseless claim, as since its release on March 18th, the film has garnered strong word of mouth and impressive box office results, setting it on course to be a new benchmark for Taiwanese horror films. Incantation incorporates themes of cults and folklore, drawing inspiration from the contagious Incantation imagery of The Ring (1998), and achieves a Found Footage / Mockumentary effect through the use of cameras, mobile phones, and other screens within its storyline. This combination of theme and form can be seen echoing in other recent Asian films, such as the Thai-Korean co-production The Medium (2021), set against the backdrop of northern Thai shamanism, or Shimizu Takashi’s Howling Village (2019) and Suicide Forest Village (2021).
In this issue of FUNSCREEN, we invited Director Kevin KO to discuss his film, which may leave audiences with lingering feelings and emotions, both unsettling and moving, long after the credits roll.
From Ghost Print to Incantation: A Focus and Evolution on Sub-genres of Horror Films
— Both Incantation and your university short film Ghost Print feature pronounced sensual genre elements, like the phenomenon of ‘bumping into walls by ghosts'(鬼打牆), the undistinguishable front and back of hair in horror scenes, and the handling of scary scenes inside and outside of cars. Has this always been the genre you wanted to explore?
Yes, Ghost Print was a project I emulated during university. I was a big fan of Japanese ghost films then, especially One Missed Call (2004) and The Ring. I also liked the Hong Kong film The Eye (2002). The biggest difference between Incantation and Ghost Print was considering what would scare the audience besides the overtly horrifying visuals. Eventually, I settled on the theme of cults.
The unease towards unfamiliar religions and the reverence for unknown deities is the primary sentiment Incantation aims to convey. The film was inspired by a real event in Kaohsiung in 2005. My immediate reaction upon hearing the news was: some people in Taiwan believe in very strange things. Just like we were told as kids that a certain relative believed in something peculiar and our elders would advise us to stay away. This religious reverence and fear of “it’s better not to approach" is hard to shake off and is something Taiwanese can deeply resonate with. “It’s better not to approach" can be metaphorically seen as “toxic," and if something is “toxic," it can “make you sick," or in other words, curse you.
So, the film employs an interactive approach, enticing the audience to engage with it, understand it, and unbeknownst to them, take something away – akin to something shareable, aligning with the curse theme in the movie. Because the prototype of fear is when you continuously tell yourself, “I better not know too much, better not get involved, and it’s best not to remember it," but when you inadvertently take something away anyway, the fear becomes real.
— The film adopts a mockumentary style. How did you decide on this stylistic approach?
I really enjoy found-footage movies, as they give a sense of “participating in someone else’s life." However, Incantation isn’t entirely a mockumentary. It’s more of a fusion between a mockumentary and a narrative film, fundamentally a commercial entertainment movie. For me, adhering to rules isn’t the most crucial aspect – being “engaging" is. While a pseudo-documentary must abide by certain “found footage" conventions, what I wanted was for audiences to appreciate it in this format but still experience the drama of a narrative film. Hence, I incorporated sound effects, music, cross-cutting, montages, and the like.
About 4 or 5 years ago, I wanted to make a short film about the dark web, akin to a “cursed letter" format – very DIY, raw, with no music, capturing all sounds with a mobile phone, the roughest kind of production. I hoped the viewers would think, “What on earth did I just watch?" or “Did I just partake in a ritual?" But many potential investors cautioned me, questioning how such a film would sell or who would dare to invest. They felt that viewers might associate any mishap after watching, like a stubbed toe, with the film’s curse. Regardless of the story, they might not recommend it.
Initially, hearing such feedback was frustrating. But it made me question myself — why was I showing off my skills? Did I genuinely enjoy such horror films when I was younger? The movies I used to queue up for were blockbusters like Jurassic Park, Transformers, and Harry Potter. It made no sense to distance myself from what I loved just because I had acquired filmmaking skills. So, I gradually shifted to blending elements from various “engaging" narrative films, aiming to create a movie that I, as a movie lover, would pay to watch.
Stylistic Execution: Refining the ‘rawness’ of a mockumentary
— Can you talk about the on-set camera, lighting setups, and other equipment?
We tried to use the camera that fits the narrative. For instance, if Ruo-nan has a camera in the film, we shot with that exact Sony point-and-shoot camera, without attaching any extra lens. Mobile phone scenes were genuinely shot with an iPhone. Remember the story from 6 years ago with a DV camera? (In the flashback) It was indeed shot with that DV. Surveillance footage was a bit different. We bought surveillance cameras, but they had issues, like not being able to monitor in real-time and overwriting footage after 10 minutes. We found that the iPhone’s front camera most resembled a surveillance camera, so we mounted it high and adjusted the frame rate to 12 frames per second (films are usually 24 fps). We considered using a dash cam, but due to similar issues with overwriting footage, we used a GoPro.
The lighting team was minimal, and we hardly used any professional lighting, just the kind you might see with a news crew. Sometimes we used on-site fluorescent lighting, just enough to see in darker scenes. For the underground scenes at night, the only light source was the flashlight held by the lead actress. Everyone else worked in pitch darkness. In one particularly dark scene, I asked an actor why he was moving so slowly. He replied that he couldn’t see, so I realized we needed to provide him with some light. At times, actors appeared to be looking in odd directions simply because it was too dark to see. In another instance, the camera and flashlight were attached together, blinding the actors, so we separated them.
— Regarding camera placement, did you strictly follow the rules of found footage?
Every scene had a specified camera placement on set. However, during editing, if we had to show every time a character picked up or set down a camera, it would become redundant and distract from the story, so we removed many of those moments. One particular scene in a temple was more rigid. Ruo-nan gets startled, and we only had two camera angles: one from the GoPro inside the stuffed bunny held by her daughter Dodo, and one from the camera in Ruo-nan’s hand. We needed a close-up of her frightened face, which required cropping and zooming in. After five takes, we realized the GoPro couldn’t capture her face well in low light, so we reshot using a camera with a larger aperture, sneaking in a zoom for the close-up.
— The temple scene, where something suddenly rushes towards the viewer, is a rare jump scare in the film. Most of the film is more suspenseful. Can you discuss the editing process?
The most critical aspect of making a horror film, be it shooting or editing, is always to put yourself in the audience’s shoes and ensure clarity. The editing and sound process took about 9 months. Through meticulous calculations, you can immerse the audience. It’s not about just adding a lot of music or sudden movements for horror.
For instance, in the temple scene, there were continuous light and dark changes. The first two occurrences were evenly timed, but the third was unexpected, startling the audience. The rhythm was the same with sound—initially consistent but then disrupted, jolting viewers. Most of the audience can predict that after Dodo screams and the door shuts, it will open again. How can we add another layer of surprise to that predictability? So, we substituted Dodo’s scream with another sound or made it seem muffled, as if from under a blanket. Also, we kept the characters’ breathing subtle to let the audience’s breathing fill that space. The ‘first-person’ perspective should come from the audience for total immersion.
— What was the approximate budget and how was it allocated? The Thangkas in the film left a deep impression. Can you discuss the art direction?
The budget was roughly 33 million NTD. Art and special effects took up the most, with sound effects and scoring slightly more than typical films. We didn’t have a lower budget just because we were making a mockumentary. Instead, we allocated it wisely. While the usual film budget can support one month of shooting, ours could stretch to two months, allowing us to capture the “rough" mockumentary feel with greater refinement.
The art director was Otto Chen, whom I met during an advertisement shoot. This was his first feature film, and he’s a very talented and passionate individual. He drew the symbols on the poster. I told him that we weren’t aiming for just beautiful props; the primary goal was to create a religion that Taiwanese people would find believable yet unfamiliar. The success of the art direction in this film relied on two main factors: thorough research on the cult and the settings of the cult’s compound and tunnels.
The Thangkas in the film were crafted by two accomplished artists who specialize in Buddhist imagery and heritage restoration. The composition of the Thangka had to maintain a specific ratio to resemble the divine images we’re familiar with. The Brahmi script on the scripture, resembling Chinese, was designed to make Taiwanese people feel a connection. When inventing a cult, it may need to feel ancient, but if it’s too ancient, it might feel too distant. So, we rooted it in Yunnan but localized it, aiming for a feeling that “my uncle might worship this." This includes the use of suona (a Chinese musical instrument) in the film.
The cult compound was located in the deep mountains of Hsinchu, and we were fortunate to capture a rare snowfall. It felt like the movie gods were smiling upon this film. During location scouting, we found a place with a structure very close to what we wanted. We retained its lived-in look, and the art team transformed it into a collective village-like setting within one large building. The design of the tunnel entrance was inspired by Taiwanese tomb designs. Inside the tunnel, which was a different setting, was the Jinshan air-raid shelter. The tree roots inside were original. The initial terrain went uphill, but we filmed it as downhill. In the most constricted, suffocating center, we placed our meticulously crafted Buddha figure. This setting was a real find. The original script and art direction weren’t like this; we adapted to the natural landscape.
Self-expectation of a good commercial film: Appealing & Moving
— From Ghost Print to Incantation, you’ve directed various types of films, numerous MVs, and advertisements. How do you handle different genres? And how has the experience of MVs and advertisements influenced you?
I’ve always considered myself a commercial film director and strive to be a good one.
For example, in a comedy film, it’s not about the editing but the acting. Humor is innate in actors and can’t be forced. Most people watch comedies because of the star cast. So, directing a comedy involves discussing with actors to bring out their funniest side. Horror films are different; they rely on camera shots and sound effects, requiring a calculated rhythm. A Choo is more like a cartoon, demanding a cartoonish mindset. Invitation Only aims for entertaining gore and torture – stimulating but not too sinister, emphasizing the gore. Incantation intends to terrify on psychological, cinematographic, or thematic levels.
In fact, I learned cinematography from directing MVs. MVs focus not on storytelling but on conveying a concept, like A-Mei’s FACES OF PARANOIA depicting obsessive love. While films emphasize story, the essence of MVs enhances visual conception in films. Diversifying my projects has been beneficial. Directing a mobile game ad, for example, taught me special effects and communicating with special effects artists. The “My Origin" ad, mimicking a news report about a dinosaur invasion shot on a phone, invested mainly in special effects and sound, serving as practice for Incantation.
— Referring back to the initial “epistolary" short film concept that evolved into Incantation. How did you integrate scare tactics with the emotional core of Incantation? The film intriguingly reverses emotions: the selfish become more “socialized", and the selfless become horrifying yet touching.
There’s an underlying concept, initially seeming contradictory, that aligns by the end, leaving viewers pondering their feelings about it. Maybe they harbor positive or negative emotions towards a character — but if negative, is it because their positive feelings got hurt? If they find a character selfish, where’s the line between selfishness and selflessness? If the film can make people “touch" this boundary, it transcends the fourth wall, resonating with human nature.
The film’s dedication “to the little angel" refers to my dog. We’ve been inseparable, especially during its last days when I was writing the script. I faced numerous dilemmas trying to prolong its life: hydration could lead to pulmonary edema, insufficient hydration to anemia; feeding became complicated due to reflexes. I questioned my choices, but I was sure we shared joy.
With its deteriorating vision and hearing, I devised a routine touch near its tail to assure it was me. But I constantly worried if it recognized me.
I even told it to leave if it wished, to avoid any discomfort. One day, while I was away, I received the call of its passing. I rushed back but didn’t get to say goodbye.
These unresolved emotions found their way into this film.
I later realized that even if it didn’t recognize me, it would’ve wished it was me, mirroring my own hopes. Such certainties inspired scenes in Incantation like the ER scene where the character recognizes a cherished stuffed toy — some truths don’t need evidence. If you cherish a life, perhaps you can see traces of yourself in this film.
Hence, my dedication to my “little angel" isn’t as dark as the initial short film concept. I hope Incantation moves its audience.
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