TRIGGER WARNING: This review discusses suicide and PTSD.
While FCSyndicate has largely taken notice to Peter Jang’s work in the stunt arena over the years, he’s continued to further showcase himself beyond cinematic fight scenes and wrecks, invoking an intent to one day take the mantle as a bonafide filmmaker, with a diverse repetoire of his own ideas to share with audiences en masse. Audiences at this year’s Marina Del Rey Film Festival will get to sample a little of this as Jang dives deep into the torured psyche of an ex-veteran coping with the loss of a fellow soldier and friend in the new shortfilm drama, Mask.
The opening two minutes are a medley of explosive, violent and torturous audibles of warfare and voices inside the head of Nick (Peter Jang), an ex-soldier already in the middle of a nightmaring pounding session on the bags at his local boxing gym. His workout goes well into the evening until there’s no one left in the gym, that is, except for him, and a recurring mirage of someone who turns out to be his late friend, Tyler (Tim Neff).
We don’t really learn this until well into the second half of the short, but the lynchpin of events here is what happens when Jang is packed up and leaves the gym, and sits in his car for a few moments before pulling out a gun. Whilst seemingly intent on using it, evidently what keeps him from unaliving himself right then, really, is the one thing he can’t seem to let go of, leading to a final confrontation back inside the gym to face his demons once and for all.
Clocked at fifteen minutes and dialogue-free for close to half of its duration, Mask is a little rough around the edges, but succeeds in painting a stark, vivid dramatization of PTSD, as iterated through the passionate and personal storytelling of its director. The pacing slows down midway, but the shortfilm is well-acted, with an ample performances by Jang, as well as by Neff in the antagonizing role of Tyler, and supporting co-star Gabrielle LaJudice who plays Nick’s wife.
Overall, the writing and execution present an impressive packaging of Jang’s concept, delivered with a cohesive, nuanced understanding of a very complex issue, and brutalizing, emotive effect. The most climatic moment of the short near the end almost felt unnerving in a sense, and left me guessing a little bit before the closing scene, which kind of speaks to the film’s brilliance in capturing psychological drama, unintended or not.
I’m rather keen on what Jang can do next. He’s been great in getting my attention as an action actor since I started writing back in 2013, but I’m always interested when there’s more waiting in the wings, and as he continues to grow his craft as a filmmaker, so does my curiousity.