“At the Mercy of Faith”: A Visceral, Faith-Restoring Supernatural Drama America Needs Right Now
When a story dares to tread the fragile line between grief, faith, and redemption, it demands not just talent — but courage. Writer Samuel Taylor brings that and more to At the Mercy of Faith, a deeply emotional, supernaturally-charged short film that stirs the soul while gripping the senses. As a man of deep faith and conviction, Taylor’s storytelling voice is both poetic and brutally honest — qualities that shine through every frame of this powerful proof-of-concept short.
Directed and lensed by Andrew Arguello, At the Mercy of Faith opens in Texas in the early 1985s, with a magnetic, emotionally resonant scene inside a church. A young Marvin Taylor preaches the gospel with fiery conviction — a visually stunning moment captured with cinematic precision. From the very first frame, Arguello’s command of the camera is evident: crisp, deliberate compositions, elegant push-ins, and a sharpness that rivals major studio films. It’s beautiful, powerful, and haunting.
Then, in a jarring but seamless cut, the story leaps 18 years forward. Marvin Taylor — now played with masterful weight by David Gamble Jr.— is no longer a man of the cloth, but a man at the edge. Broken by tragedy, stripped of hope, and struggling to provide for his family of three, Marvin wanders through a world that has seemingly abandoned him. Goebel’s performance is nothing short of anchoring. He doesn’t just play Marvin — he carries the film’s spiritual and emotional burden on his shoulders with subtlety and heartbreaking honesty.
The supernatural twist comes in the form of John James, played by Dan Morrison, a ghostly figure wrapped in mystery and menace. Morrison portrays a haunted, homeless presence who may or may not be a demonic force — and his performance is both magnetic and deeply unsettling. Is he here to condemn, or redeem? The film plays with that question beautifully, letting audiences stew in the moral fog rather than spoon-feeding clarity.
Samuel Taylor’s writing is the backbone of the film. He balances Biblical undertones with raw, human emotion — never preaching, always searching. In his hands, At the Mercy of Faith becomes more than a ghost story or a redemption arc; it becomes a mirror, reflecting the spiritual crises many Americans face in silence.
And the score — restrained, emotional, and always perfectly timed — guides the viewer like an unseen hand, reinforcing the stakes without overwhelming them. Every cue feels earned.
As the film closes, a final moment of attempted salvation — featuring a heart-wrenching performance by an elder woman preacher — brings everything together. While we won’t spoil what’s said or what Marvin does next, let’s just say it left a lump in our throats. The ending is not what we expected. It’s better.
In a time when spiritual fatigue and moral ambiguity define so much of American life, At the Mercy of Faith speaks directly to the soul of a nation. It’s a film about losing your light — and daring to ask if it can ever return. This isn’t just a film — it’s a call to remember what anchors us in the dark.
The team at the Love & Hope International Film Festival — Barcelona is proud to showcase this deeply needed piece of cinema. It’s the kind of work that reminds us why independent voices matter — and why stories of faith, pain, and transformation are more urgent than ever.
We thank Samuel Taylor for this gift. We thank Andrew Arguello for shaping it into cinematic beauty. And we thank David Gamble Jr. and Dan Morrison for bringing these layered characters to life.
At the Mercy of Faith is more than a short film — it’s a prayer caught on camera.
Disclaimer: This review reflects personal opinions based on a festival screening of the film. It does not reveal plot spoilers and is intended for critical and cultural discussion only. All film stills and materials are used with permission from the filmmakers.
Film Review: At the Mercy of Faith By Darwin Reina
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