I am the filmmaker and owner of the short film, and here's my commentary: Since me and my skeleton film crew are a bunch of volunteer amateurs, with no prior experience of filmmaking, a few friends who just love watching movies, and we had only 48 hours to start from scratch and complete a 7 min short film with randomly drawn Genre and elements (Character, Prop, Dialogue), we made good many mistakes in hindsight. If the race limits were 72 hours and 15 min length, we would have done much better job of realizing our script shot by shot. But we are very proud we did it in time, full of surprises and fun despite the fatique of not sleeping 3 days, and much motivated to learn the art of filmmaking and to try ourselves again with short films. I already am working on dozen Real crazy original concepts of mine. Thanks to the 48HFP organizers for the opportunity to do something and begin our journey towards our dream. Logical explanation of the ghostly apparition and some notes: Since Tulga was in major depression, compounded by his disability below the waist, and his inability to escape from his bed, confined to his room in front of the cable TV all day long, he chafed and the life felt worse than prison cell. When a person is in depression, and when he is unable to fight off or cope with the depression, life seems worthless and feeling unbearable pain of boredom and loneliness, the person’s life feels like an unending nightmare of gloom and doom. Since depression is a form of mental disorder, it is very hard for the brain to cure itself. Every information, everything is reflected in contorted mirror in the mind, dark thoughts just would not go away, haunting every waking moments, whispering poisonous lies, twisting facts, sabotaging logical thinking and producing only self-destructive, self-accusing, deeper depressing, suicidal conclusions, trying to convince the brain that death is the only escape, thus attempting to overwhelm and override the survival instinct, which is afterall hard-wired in genes of all living creatures. Now, when Tulga is decided and committed to claiming his life, and all else fails to save him, and no hope remains, the self-preservation software that is lodged somewhere back of the brain frantically, desperately seeks a way to help itself. So intuitively, that survival program guesses correctly that since the logical brain cannot seem to heal itself from the fatal illness, and since no one outside, none of his close friends, nor his family, not even his beloved girlfriend could not and would not help him, because they don’t even realize that Tulga is in depression and so close to end his miserable life, although any of them could have helped him to get through the darkness of the mind if they were not so ignorant of the danger, and if they really tried to help him by talking to him, or just being there for him beside him, with compassion and with kind and prudent reasoning, but that only way that might be of help is if someone that he knows and listens to with respect were there to talk to him and shake him up until he wakes up. So perhaps Dalai figure was such a man, a childhood fond memory of a cool young man who was like a big brother to kid Tulga, who admired and emulated him with strong childish devotion. Or perhaps since the brain was replaying just that particular piece of memory at that time, the survival instinct self-defense software grabbed the figure of the long past childhood memory, and cast out and projected the figure, exactly the same as he remembers him, unto external world, just like a hallucination in principle. And it worked. The ghost man saved his life somehow, at least for time being, although with such unusual dramatic display of unexpected psychotherapy. Even the side effect of the exploding emotions triggered by the insults apparently broke through the neural block that prevented signals and caused the lower body paralysis, and miracously re-animated the numb legs with twitches and kicks (although it is of course doesn’t necessarily mean that Tulga is or will be cured from the paralysis), which ultimately had decisive impact of releasing the mind from the clawed hold of the malicious Depression, which is truly the killer epidemic in the modern world of lonesome teenagers. So now, where’s the dark comedy in this? First of all, people who watched the film, people who judged the film, and even the people who read the script, didn’t seem to understand what I wanted to say by this piece of story, and they all of them never got a clue as to why I think this story is in anyway a dark comedy. How fucking sad and frustrating, that I cannot express what I think in visual story, and how baffling that even what I wrote as the script could not communicate my thoughts to any reader I approached and asked for criticism and checked what they understood. People, esp. the judges seem to expect Dark comedy film (or story) to show a funny or hilarious story, e.g. of

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