HORUS
2026 · 2m
Directed by Matthieu Montes
Tones: contemplative, melancholic, tender
After a tragic event that overturned their lives, Maxime and Julie meet in a park for an intimate confrontation between guilt and tenderness, their unbreakable bond carrying them through the ordeal.
Picked by Zoe
The scouts
Two minutes of park-bench reconciliation feels like the safest possible response to trauma—guilt and tenderness in a neat emotional arc, the kind of consensus-approved grief narrative that wouldn't challenge anyone's assumptions about how people actually break and repair.
Montes locates *Horus* within a quiet lineage of intimate European drama—the two-hander confrontation, the charged geography of a public space made private—and executes with formal restraint, though the melancholic register risks settling into familiarity without interrogating its own gestures.
There's a single decision here that matters: the choice to let silence and proximity do the work instead of dialogue explaining their fracture, letting the camera hold on what *isn't* said, which is what makes this two-minute piece breathe like something much larger.