Mirrors

In a dimly lit world where everyday places pulse with an uneasy undercurrent, the film follows the uneasy rhythm of a historic department store that has just been revived in New Orleans. Its polished surfaces and towering mirrors become more than décor; they hint at a reality that slips just beyond ordinary perception, casting ordinary moments in a faintly surreal glow. The atmosphere is both claustrophobic and expansive—rooms feel intimate while the reflected corridors suggest hidden depths.

Max Matheson carries the weight of a recent tragedy: a car crash that claimed his fiancée and left him haunted by guilt and flashbacks. After months of therapy, he steps into a new role as a night‑shift security guard, a job that offers routine but also places him at the heart of the store’s most reflective spaces. His father, Jack, has poured his hopes into the reopening, and their strained yet affectionate bond colors Max’s every move, as he balances personal redemption with the quiet vigilance demanded by his watch.

Within the store’s bustling aisles, Max encounters a small cast of coworkers—store manager Keller Landreaux, buyer Jenna McCarty, and operations vice‑president Ryan Parker. Their interactions are layered with professional politeness, unspoken tension, and the occasional flicker of curiosity about the strange sensations that seem to emanate from the mirrors. The tone teeters between sleek corporate life and an undercurrent of something unnamable, creating a mood that feels both modern and oddly timeless.

A pivotal scene unfolds in a cramped gay‑club restroom, where two ostensibly “straight” men retreat into a tiny cubicle to discuss feelings they rarely voice elsewhere. The confined setting amplifies the raw honesty of their conversation, mirroring the film’s broader meditation on hidden truths and the ways strangers—whether bound by blood, work, or fleeting encounters—might confront the reflections they see in themselves and in the glass that surrounds them.

Last Updated: October 23, 2025 at 16:12